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As we watched TV, I could tell that mom was rather uncomfortable. She kept leaning off the back of the couch, trying to give her back a rest.Tomorrow was when dad was due home. After about two weeks of being gone, it was about time he spent some time with his family. Not that I really cared, anyway. I hardly ever saw him, and for me this was just going to make things harder with me and mom. After getting off the phone, mom called for me to come into her bedroom. When I came in, she was wearing a beige colored, short nightgown, with matching panties. She was sitting on a stool in front of her mirror. "Paul, your father will be home in the morning. My back is just killing me, so would you mind rubbing some cream on it for me? I want to at least be comfortable when he is here. I don't know if he wants me to even be laying out in the sun while he is gone. Heh, if he only knew, huh?" "Sure mom, I'll help you out".I walked behind her and she raised her nightgown over her head and laid it. He would appear in public with a woman that he’d only known a short time and since we were not looking for a couple, our investigators never got near him. Once his mission – whatever it was – came to a satisfactory conclusion, he would leave the woman raped, tortured, and beaten to death, as a warning to those who wished to capture him. Locals often made the sign of the cross whenever he came up. It was that scary to them.This particular wartime spy seemed to move around a lot. Whatever nation was running him seemed to be content to keep him on the move, so as to avoid an embarrassing capture and interrogation. As the dead piled up behind him, my bosses began to press us to try and put him down.Wanda wanted us to dangle her out as bait. That was emphatically not happening. My staff heard my intentions loud and clear. We were not using our help to catch a torturing, psychotic, spy. As the search unfolded and more dead girls turned up, I began to imagine ways to pay him back for the.
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