Chapter 1

The little 'fishing' boat, showing no lights, slipped quietly into the estuary. All my previous visits to England had been to London and points East, where the land is mostly flat. I was a little surprised, then, to see the rugged Devon coastline with its jagged rocks, emerging in huge, slanting slabs from the black water of the English Channel. The lights of Plymouth, to the west, were suddenly blotted out by the rocky bluffs at the mouth of the inlet.

As we rounded the bend in the river, I could see that the villages on either side of the Yealm river estuary were asleep, with few lights showing. The night was clear and cloudless. Even though the moon was not full, there was enough light for reasonable visibility. I could see, in the pale moonlight, the ends of the vosses (stone walkways across the estuary that are covered by several feet of water at high tide but exposed at low tide) beginning to show as the tide ebbed. The craft had a shallow draft, but the captain wasn't taking any chances.

He turned the little vessel in mid-channel, and with the muffled engines idling in reverse against the pull of the tide and the flow from the river, held her position long enough for a rowboat to pull alongside. A crate was lowered into the rowboat, and I clambered in after it.

Silently, the man in the boat pulled for shore as the delivery vessel drifted back toward the open water. I didn't know or care what was in the crate. My cargo was sewn into the lining of my jacket.

Neither of us spoke a word as I paid the smuggler, in US Dollars, for getting me safely to shore. A short climb up to Riverside Street, then a trudge up the hill, back toward the English Channel, through overhanging trees. I went through a latched gate, and suddenly, I was out in the open on a footpath, moving steadily upward as I neared the mouth of the estuary.

My life as a confidential courier is often a dull, uneventful series of flights to various parts of the world. Once in a while, though, I get a commission that challenges me, and puts all my skills to the test. This was one of the strangest ones I had ever taken. The request had come to my triple blind email box from someone who wished to remain anonymous: Pick up a package from a specific location in San Francisco, and deliver it to an undisclosed location in Europe. There would be people trying to prevent the delivery, so I was to watch my backtrail, and leave as little trace of my passage as possible. Time was not critical, as long as the package was delivered safely. I would be responsible for getting across the Atlantic without a tail, from there, my client would handle the travel arrangements. My guess was that he or she wanted to be able to check for followers, as well.

The price was set, the upfront money paid into my receiving account in the Bahamas, then split between four other accounts in various locations around the world.

It's strange what some people think of as security. The package contained a CD and some specific instructions about where to go for the first leg of my journey. Just for grins, I duped the CD, and mailed the copy to myself. If all went well with the delivery and final payment, that copy would be destroyed. If things went wrong, however, I wanted to have a little insurance.

It was my responsibility to get myself to a certain latitude and longitude in the North Atlantic by a certain time. After that, my employer would handle the travel arrangements.

Making my way across the US was simple: I drove. Well, okay, I drove one of several nondescript vehicles that I own under different names from San Francisco to Biloxi, Mississippi.

From there, I hired a man with a fast boat, with whom I had done business before, to get me across the Atlantic. We met up with the smuggler's boat at the designated coordinates.

GPS systems have revolutionized the art of smuggling. In the old days, ocean-going ships that needed to meet up somewhere had to pick a recognizable landmark that both knew, which put them in sight of land and potential spies. Nowadays, such rendezvous are held on the open ocean, and cargo is transferred far from shipping lanes or prying eyes.

Satellites? The paths and assignments of US spy satellites are available to anyone who's willing to pay the price, and these guys knew exactly when, where, and for how long they'd be out of view of the eyes in the sky.

I just had one little difficulty to overcome. It's one thing to step from the deck of one small vessel to another in the quiet of a sheltered harbor, and quite another to transfer between two wildly pitching boats in the open ocean. They dressed me in a wetsuit and transferred me the same way they did the cargo: A line was tossed from the receiving vessel and attached to the cargo (me, in this case), then the cargo was tossed overboard (okay, I stepped into the frigid water with my meager travel kit in a waterproof bag) and hauled aboard the vessel that was to make the final delivery. I didn't see any point in letting them know I could have made that swim on my own, without the rope, blindfolded.

I was bundled into a small cabin to change out of the wetsuit, and was surprised to find a small Chinese woman waiting for me. Instantly on the alert for trouble, I opened the velcro pocket of the bag to reach for the 9mm inside.

"You will not need the gun, Mr. Winchell." The petite, black-haired beauty said calmly. "I am not here to keep you from delivering your package."

Maybe. And maybe I was going to sprout wings in the next few minutes and finish the trip by air. I got a grip on the weapon and flicked the safety off, but left it where it was.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" I asked. Not very original, but to the point.

"I believe you know Mr. Stephen Hastings, do you not? You have done some work for him." She said.

Yeah, I had done some work for him. Nice guy, but those security people of his gave me the creeps. The stories people told about those four little Chinese women...

"Which one are you?" I asked, without answering her question. If she was who I thought she was, she already knew the answer.

She smiled, and it was truly a beautiful expression, enhanced, somehow, by the scar running down her right cheek. I had heard the stories of the epic struggle Steve Hastings and his bodyguards had survived to get his first product on the market, and before she replied, I knew the answer to my question.

"I am Jun. I see you know our reputation."

If the reputation I knew was even half true, that gun in my bag was not going to do me any good. I put it back on safety and slowly withdrew my hand from the bag, making sure she could see that it was empty.

"I thought you people always worked in pairs." I said.

Again she smiled. "I will be joining my sister shortly. For now, I need to talk to you without anyone else knowing."

For the first time, I realized that she, too, wore a wetsuit. A dive mask and fins lay on the tiny bunk.

"Does anyone else know you're aboard?" I asked.

"No." She said. "It's best left that way. What you're carrying was stolen from our employer, and we want to get it back, but not before we have discovered who commissioned the theft and eliminated the threat. I trust you will destroy your copy when this is all over."

Holy shit! This chick was amazing! Not only had she been able to track me down in the middle of the Atlantic, and get aboard this boat with no one the wiser, but she, or THEY, had somehow found out about my having copied the disc! I didn't find out until later that it was the disc, itself that told them I had copied it.

"Of course." I replied, trying not to look surprised. "My business depends on my reputation. I do not violate my clients' trust unless they violate mine."

"Good." was her reply. "We need you to work with us to track the person responsible for this theft. There will be... rewards, and your reputation will not suffer."

"How can you say that?" I answered. "Already the mission is compromised. If I don't deliver this package, word will spread, and I'll be out of business."

"You WILL deliver the package." She said. "We will not act until your client has received it."

"How do I know you're even who you say you are?" I asked. "I assumed, when I saw you and you mentioned Hastings, that you were one of his security people, but how can you prove it?"

"How much have you heard about us, Mr. Winchell?" she asked, reaching behind herself to pull down the zip on her wetsuit. "Have you heard of our physical, shall we say, anomalies?"

"I had heard rumors that you were women, but that you had, um, equipment for a man, too." I replied.

"That's one way to put it." she smiled. I couldn't get over the beauty of that smile. "Here is my identification from Gemini Security."

She handed me a laminated badge that identified her as 'Jun NLN' of Gemini Security. That was the security firm run by Hastings' bodyguards. I was busy staring at her small, perfectly shaped breasts and it took me a moment to focus on the badge.

"What's 'NLN'?" I asked.

"'No Last Name'" she replied.

"Oh." I said. "Okay, but that could be forged."

"Of course." she turned away from me and finished wriggling out of her wetsuit. My delighted eyes took in the luscious curves of her bare buttocks as she bent to push the suit downward.

She bent further forward and said, "Take a good look, Mr. Winchell."

Nothing loathe, I studied her rounded buttocks and the lovely, moist folds of her little pussy, lightly lined with straight, black hair.

"Nice." I said, "But I don't see..."

She turned as I spoke, and the thing I didn't see almost took off my kneecap in the tight confines of the cabin - a huge, raging erection!

"Oh." I mumbled. "And it's real?"

"Please," she said, "feel free to determine that for yourself."

Mesmerized, I slowly stretched out a trembling hand. The warmth of it struck me first, then the smooth, velvety texture. I could feel her pulse beating within it, like holding a bird in the palm of my hand.

Long after I should have been convinced, I still held that miraculous shaft, unconsciously stroking it softly.

"Perhaps..." she rasped in a hoarse whisper, taking my bag from me and dropping it on the bunk, "a closer inspection?"

A closer inspection indeed! I dropped to my knees, staring that bobbing, weaving, rigid snake in its single eye. Of its own volition, my mouth opened, and my tongue flicked out to taste the clear droplet that oozed from the slit in the purple plum. I have been bisexual for years, but this was something so totally beyond my experience that I felt I was drowning in a fantasy!

Since Jun didn't object, I opened wider and allowed that slender rod to slip effortlessly down my throat. Small, strong hands gripped my hair and guided my head up and down that improbable staff! I could tell from the urgency of her hands and the way her pelvis arched to meet my face that she was enjoying my ministrations, but not a sound issued from her mouth. Even her breathing, though faster, remained quiet as she fucked my throat with long, quick thrusts!

In moments, her cock pulsed, and I withdrew far enough to capture the second round of her slimy discharge in my mouth, savoring its extraordinary sweetness before gulping it down to make room for more!

Still no sound emerged from her as blast after blast shot from her slender cannon, filling my mouth and forcing me to swallow rapidly! Seconds later, she withdrew and bent to kiss me tenderly.

"I think we will work well together, Darren." she smiled, "All you need to do is not react if you see me or my sister as you make your way to your destination."

"Uh, okay, but you should know, they're only giving me one leg of the trip at a time." I said, "I think they've got watchers to see if I'm being followed."

"We surmised that this would be the case." She smiled, lithely re-fastening her wetsuit. "Do not worry. We will be able to track you without following, just as we did this time."

Another kiss, then she was gone, taking the mask and fins with her. I waited tensely for the outcry that would signal her discovery by the crew, but none came.

Jun's super sensitive ears told her that no one was nearby as she slipped from the tiny cabin and silently lowered herself into the frigid water. Holding her breath, she dove beneath the waves before stopping to don the fins and mask. Turning face up, she blew air from her nose while lifting the bottom edge of the mask. When the mask was clear, she rose to the surface for one more deep breath of air, just as the engines of the smuggler's craft engaged. Sinking silently again, she stroked upward with her hands, pushing her body well below the waves before bending into a dive that would take her deeper. When the fins on her feet moved, this far below the surface, they made no visible disturbance.

Jun touched the button on her belt as she dove still deeper, and at a depth of about fifty feet, detectd the sled rising to meet her. She first felt the vibrations of its engines and then saw the dim glow of the instrument panel. Nearing the limits of the oxygen in her lungs, Jun quelled her body's instinct to dash for the surface and calmly felt with her gloved hands until she located the mouthpiece for the sled's air supply.

She used the air in her lungs to clear the water from the mouthpiece, then took in a cautious breath. A few droplets of salt water still gurgled in the tube, to be cleared out by her next forceful exhale.

No longer lacking for oxygen, the slender Asian fit her body into the passenger compartment of the sled, lying prone within it as she closed the transparent canopy, and turned due east. With the throttles open to max, the jets drove the teardrop shape through the water at more than thirty knots. The passenger compartment remained full of water, but the bullet nose and long, pointed, rear of the tiny craft minimized the drag and turbulence of the water, while the jets, whose pumps were enclosed within the sled's body, operated almost silently on electric power.

Exactly twenty eight minutes after starting, Jun cut the throttles and waited until she was dead in the water, then set the locator blip. The sled emitted a quick burst of sound, received an answering burst from the pick up vessel, and sent it back, receiving the sled's answering blip. Computers on the mother craft calculated direction and distance, and in less than a minute, the larger boat came to a stop directly over the sled. When the doors in her bottom opened, Jun deftly guided the sled through the portal.

"Have you forgotten our training, Sister?" Sun scolded as Jun emerged from the shower, drying her hair.

"Did you enjoy that, Sun?" she smiled, "I... improvised. If you had seen the look on his face, you would know why."

"Did you at least remember to plant the tracking devices?" Sun tried to ignore her sister's obvious enjoyment of the situation.

"Oh yes." Jun said, nonchalantly. "One in his bag, one in his hair, and one in his stomach."

"In his stomach?" Sun looked at her sister as if she were crazy.

Jun nodded smugly. "On a hunch, I inserted it into my penis just before I asked him if he wanted to inspect it more closely. When he swallowed my cum, he also swallowed the device."

Suddenly, Sun was laughing. "You ARE crazy sister, but what better place to put the device so it won't be discovered! I wondered what you were doing to yourself while you had your back to him!"

"Well, don't be too happy sister." Jun smiled. "In a day or two he'll pass that one, but it should get us closer to our goal."

"You're right, of course." Sun said. "Let me make a report, then you can suck me off to make up for letting him do you while you were on duty!"

In a daze, I stripped off my wetsuit and took a quick, water conserving shower. Vessels this size couldn't carry an evaporator, and fresh water was only what they could take with them.

Another day, and a few hours spent pretending to fish, and the smuggler's craft deposited me in Noss Mayo, Devon, England.

After rounding the headland on the footpath, I peered through the darkness downslope, toward the ocean. I had walked for maybe half an hour when I spotted it - a WWII vintage pillbox, situated about halfway down the rocky slope between me and the water.

It was slow going in the dark, even with the moonlight to light the way. Shadows were tricky and I had to take care not to step on any of the loose rocks on the slope. There was probably a path, but I couldn't make it out in the dark, so I took my time, placing each foot with care. I finally reached the rectangular concrete structure, and feeling around the base of it, on the left side, I located a loose rock. Underneath was the envelope.

I stuck it in my pocket, feeling something lumpy inside. I would have time to open it later, but first I wanted to get back on the path. It was highly unlikely that anyone would be on that path at a quarter past two in the morning, but just in case, I would attract less attention if I, too, were on the path.

Returning was a little easier, as I found the path leading up from the pillbox. Once there, I used a penlight inside the flap of my jacket to quickly scan the instructions and retrieve a set of car keys from the envelope.

Okay, back down the path to the village. My timing was perfect. By the time I reached the bottom, the tide had receded enough to expose both vosses, so I wouldn't have to hike around to the bridge.

I knew I had missed the access to the Noss Creek voss when I saw the Ship Inn looming in the dark to my left, and had to back track, but soon I was making my way across the little creek that split Noss Mayo, taking care with my footing on the slippery stones of the voss. At the other side, I stayed on the exposed, rocky bottom of the inlet and walked to the Yealm River voss. This one took me across the estuary to the village of Newton Ferrers, near the Blue Dolphin. A steep climb up the street, and a quick left turn at the closed co-op, and I was able to locate the little Renault in one of the marked parking spaces along the street. Right hand drive, naturally.

I noticed that the number tag didn't have the little blue sticker that would allow the car to be driven outside Great Britain, so I was either delivering to somewhere in the UK, or this was just another leg of the journey.

I carefully studied the map that accompanied the instructions in the envelope before starting out. Thank god there were no other vehicles on the road! The lanes I took to get to the A379 were barely wide enough for the little car I drove, and the hedges and stone walls on either side would prevent any evasive maneuvering. If I met another car, one of us would have to reverse to one of the microscopically wider spots that looked as if they would allow passing, as long as neither vehicle had an extra coat of paint!

Once on the A379, the signposts pointed the way clearly, and before long, I was on the four lane divided carriageway numbered A38, headed north and east. Just south of Exeter, A38 became the M5. With little traffic on the road, I was tempted to floor the accelerator, but this wasn't the Autobahn and I kept it below the nominal speed limit of 70 mph. I didn't need the police noticing me at this stage of the game, especially since I had entered the country illegally.

I continued North on the M5. At Bristol, I turned eastward onto the M4, and finally took the exit for Windsor and Maidenhead just as the sky began turning orange in the east. It would be a couple of hours before I could get the instructions for the next leg of the journey, so I parked in a long stay car park, using some of the coins I kept in my travel stash to pay for four hours parking. Stuffing the keys in the Renault's tailpipe, and leaving the parking slip on its dash, I headed into Windsor.

"Okay, he's headed for London, so we can at least start up the Thames." Jun said, watching the plot of the courier's progress on the map overlay. "That should get us close. I wish we could get a position check more often!"