THE BLACK FOX

PART TWO

By

Peril Master

Warning! The following story contains adult material. If you are offended by such content, then don’t read any further.

San Francisco 1947

Under the clear blue sky San Francisco’s beauty was even more majestic. Everything was right again. The A-bomb had won the war against Japan. It had saved thousands of American lives. The world was at peace once again, recovering from years of misery and destruction. America looked toward a promising future. Of course crime was crime. It had no respect for such notions as peace and beauty.

Three rugged-looking men armed with Thompson machine-guns emerged from the National Bank located in the heart of the city. One of the robbers carried a large bundle stuffed with packs of money. The thieves moved smoothly and quickly to a getaway car parked near the curb. A fourth robber waited inside the car, ready to race down the busy street. The criminals climbed inside the car. It sped away, leaving behind a set of tire tracks on the street.

Unknown to the criminals was the fact that a secret alarm had been activated by a bank employee before the robbers were even out of the bank. The police wasted no time in responding to the alarm and three police cars appeared on the street, sirens wailing. San Francisco’s finest sped after the four robbers.

Inside the getaway car the thieves became aware of the cops giving chase. Two crooks leaned out of the car widows, opening fire at the pursuing cops. They sprayed the getaway route with deadly machine-gun fire, disregarding innocent bystanders. Machine-gun bullets ripped across the windshield of the lead police car. The police car swerved to the side of the street, striking a parked car. The other two cop cars continued the chase.

The crooks resumed firing at the two remaining police cars as the getaway car ran stop signs and traffic lights. It dodged near misses, weaving in and out of heavy traffic. The second police car was not as lucky. A passing motorist rammed into the side of the cop car at an intersection. A violent chain reaction ensued and the busy intersection was soon jammed with cars, screeching to a halt to avoid collisions. The third police car was blocked from the fleeing robbers. San Francisco’s finest were not having their best moment.

“Ha! Stupid cops,” the robber driving the getaway car muttered. “Nice going, boys, were almost home free.”

The crooks were too busy gloating in their apparent success to notice a motorcycle rider pull into the street behind them. The motorcycle zoomed skillfully past slower traffic until it was directly behind the crooks.

The crook driving the car noticed the vision in the rearview mirror. He could not believe his eyes. Chasing after them was a girl on a motorcycle! Not just a regular girl, but a girl dressed in a ridiculous black costume. And what a girl! Her face was obscured by a mask but her hair flew freely behind her. Her sensuous lips and perfect breasts removed all doubts regarding her gender.

“What the fuck!” the driver said, stealing a glance at the pursuing rider.

The rest of the robbers turned back. They spotted the girl on the bike. She suddenly sped up and rode right alongside the getaway car. She wore a skin tight black body suit that hugged and accented every curve of her voluptuous body. White gloves, a belt, and knee high boots added contrast to the dark costume. A black “boomerang” shaped mask covered most of her face; leaving her nose, mouth, and green eyes exposed. Thick, shoulder length auburn hair flapped freely behind her.

“What the hell is this?” One of the robbers asked.

“Who cares?” the driver exclaimed. “Let her have it!”

The masked motorcycle girl drew a .45 automatic gun from a holster strapped around her upper thigh. She aimed at the front tire of the car, firing a single shot. The tire popped and hissed. She fired a second shot at the rear tire of the car. The getaway car lost control, zig-zagging wildly before sideswiping a parked car on the side of the street. The car jumped the curve, screetching to a halt on the sidewalk.

The motorcycle girl replaced the gun back in the holster and continued down the street, leaving the disabled car behind. The four crooks exited the car, weapons in tow. The costumed girl executed a U-turn and charged at the criminals. Their natural reaction was to eliminate the crazy girl. The robbers raised their machine-guns at the approaching rider and opened fire. A hail of bullets struck the motorcycle and the girl, but nothing happened! The deadly barrage had no effect whatsoever, producing only harmless sparks as bullets struck the front of the motorcycle.

The girl raced directly at the four crooks, sending them scrambling out of the way. She skidded to a halt and dismounted from the motorcycle. The four criminals looked on, slack-jawed, as the girl launched herself at them. She flew through the air, executing a perfect cartwheel and somersault before landing in front of the amazed robbers. She followed her gymnastics with a spinning kick to a crook's face, knocking him silly. The crook fell to the street, wondering what had hit him.

The remaining crooks converged on the masked girl, determined to beat her to a pulp. The girl delivered a series of spinning kicks, punches, and forearms as she cut down the three criminals. Not one of them landed a single blow on the girl. One minute later the battle was over and the four robbers were sprawled out on the street, groaning and moaning as the victorious girl stood defiantly over them.

“Thank you for a most enjoyable fight,” the girl said mockingly.

Police sirens broke the silence. Several bystanders gathered on the sides of the street, gazing at the surreal sight before them. The men were particularly intrigued by the shapely vigilante.

“See you boys in about twenty-five years,” she said to the defeated crooks.

She dashed to the motorcycle, mounted the heavy bike, kick-started it, gunned the engine, and raced down the street as onlookers gawked with disbelief. Had they not seen it with their own eyes they would have never believed it.

Valerie could not be happier about her first mission. It was actually easier than she expected. Of course had it not been for her bullet proof costume she would be dead now. Instead she sped toward her house on the motorcycle, making sure she was not followed or spotted. Buckley was going to be proud of her.

She pulled off the main road and headed down a narrow dirt path leading to the back of the house. The path ran along the bottom of the hill where the house stood. Valerie pressed a button on the handle bars of the bike. Two thick shrubs next to the steep hill parted. Behind the shrubs a metal door slid open. It concealed the entrance to a tunnel leading to the secret room under the house.

Valerie rode the bike through the opening. The shrubs and metal door closed behind her, once again concealing the tunnel. She steered the bike through the tunnel until she reached another closed door. She killed the engine and dismounted from the motorcycle.

Valerie pushed the door open and entered the secret room under the house. It was no longer a research lab, but her secret headquarters. All the research equipment had been removed, replaced by sleek furniture and exercise stations. The concrete floor was now shiny white marble. A large selection of knives, guns, and martial arts weapons hung from a wall. A two-way radio sat atop of a large desk. A privacy screen completed the furnishings. It had been placed there at Buckley’s request. The door leading to the den of the house opened and Buckley entered.

“Mission accomplished Buckley,” Valerie said, removing her mask.

"Glad to hear that, Miss Miles," Buckley said. He suddenly looked away, avoiding eye contact with her.

“Those crooks didn’t put up much of a fight. If you want to make a living out of crime you should... really...learn...to...” Valerie paused, noticing Buckley gazing away from her. He appeared nervous and uncomfortable. “Is something wrong, Buckley?”

Buckley did not face Valerie. “No, not really.”

“Then look at me, please,” Valerie said.

“I’d rather not, Miss Miles”

"What do you mean you'd rather not?" Valerie said, placing her hands on her hips. “Buckley, what is the problem?”

Buckley sighed, still not facing Valerie. “If you must know. It’s your costume, Miss Miles.”

Valerie glanced over her body. “What’s wrong with my costume?”

“Nothing. It's just that...it... It’s not appropriate for a woman of your caliber, Miss Miles.”

Valerie stared at Buckley. He was old-fasioned but this was too much.“It is a bit revealing, but it’s hard to do those judo moves wearing a skirt,” She regarded Buckley with sympathy. “I won’t think any less of you if you look at me.”

Buckley turned to Valerie, slowly. He swallowed as he watched her disappear behind the changing screen where her original clothes hung. He couldn’t help but notice how her shapely backside moved under the tight fitting suit. He had never thought of Valerie as an attractive woman, but as the young daughter of Professor Miles. Seeing her in that outfit suddenly changed his opinion about her. He was afraid where that would lead.

“I had no idea no you didn’t approve of my outfit,” Valerie said behind the screen.

“It’s not that,” Buckley said. “It’s just that...I’ve always thought of you as a young girl. I guess I have to get used to the fact that you’re now a young woman.”

Valerie draped the black costume over the screen. “Can’t argue you with you there.” A pair of stockings were pulled down from the screen, disappearing behind the screen. “What I need now is a name. I can't be the masked-girl-on-a-bike-who-fights-crime. I was thinking about calling myself the Black Fox. What do you think?”

Buckley thought for a moment. “I like it,” he replied. “A fox is cunning, agile, and intelligent. Very good, Miss Miles.”

“The Black Fox it is,” Valerie said, grabbing her remaining clothes from the top of the screen. Two minutes later Valerie emerged from behind the screen, fully dressed in a form fitting skirt and top. She posed before Buckley. “Is this better?” she asked.

“Actually...it is,” Buckley said, relieved.

Valerie was not done having fun with Buckley just yet. She reached down to the hem of her knee length skirt, pulling it up around her thigh. Buckley watched as Valerie adjusted the garter attached to the stocking top. His eyes widened, glued to the young woman’s shapely leg as she fidgeted with the white garter strap.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a woman and have to deal with these things,” Valerie said, tugging on the stocking top. “Still, they do have their charm.” She pulled the elastic garter back and released it, making a popping sound as it struck her bare skin above the stocking top. She looked up at Buckley and smiled. “Don’t you think?”

Buckley swallowed. “Quite right, Miss Miles,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant. His eyes and demeanor betrayed his failure.

Valerie knew she had gone too far. She released the hem of the skirt, allowing it to drop to its original length. “Why don’t we go have dinner?” she said. “All that crime-fighting made me hungry.”

Detective Joseph Pike did not like criminals, especially bank robbers. He gazed at the robber sitting in the interrogation room with contempt. The only reason he hadn’t laid into the scumbag was because he wanted to hear what the crook had to say about the masked motorcycle girl.

Pike dragged on his cigarette and stepped behind the crook. “So you’re telling me that this...masked girl dressed in black chased you down, ran you off the road, and beat you bastards silly? Is that your story?”

“That ain’t all,” the crook said. “We opened up on her with everything we had. Nothing happened. The bullets just bounced off her like nothing. It was the strangest thing. Like she wasn’t human.”

“So you morons got beaten up by a girl?”

The crook almost smiled. “She can beat me up anytime she wants. You should have seen this broad. What a body...and that hair. What I wouldn’t give for five minutes with her.”

Pike glared at the day-dreaming crook. “There aren’t any broads where you’re going!” He blew a puff of smoke in the criminal's face and made his way to the door.

“Can I have a cigarette?” the crook asked.

Pike turned to the crook before exiting. “No!”

Police Captain Thomas Blake met Pike as he emerged from the room. He had observed the “interview” through a two-way window. Old and cynical, Blake had no patience for anyone or anything.

“You buy any of that bullshit?” Blake asked Pike.

“Normally no,” Pike replied. “But his story is backed up by several witnesses who saw the same thing.” He shook his head with disbelief. “This is incredible. Looks like there’s a bullet proof vigilante girl helping us out.”

Blake scowled. “That’s all we need. We already have a crime spree on our hands and now this nutty broad.”

“She did catch the crooks,” Pike offered.

“We don’t need a wacked out dame helping us!” Blake barked. “What we need is tougher cops. This country is going to hell! Some day some woman will be doing my job!”

“Captain, are you sore because she caught the crooks or because she’s a woman?”

Blake stared at Pike, ready to rip into the detective when several reporters stormed into the room. They located and surrounded Blake and Pike, showering the befuddled captain with questions about the masked vigilante girl.

“Who the hell let you voltures in?” Blake asked.

“Captain, is this girl working with the police?” a reporter asked.

“No!” Blake replied. “Get the hell out of here!“

“Is it true that bullets had no effect on her?” another reporter asked.

“No comment!” Blake said, fighting his way through the reporters.

They chased after the captain, continuing their assault with questions. Pike looked on and smiled. He was intrigued by the motorcycle girl. Who was she? Why was she doing it? How could bullets not hurt her? He vowed to get answers to all these questions.

Valerie stepped into the dinning room, dressed in an elegant navy blue suit. She took pride in her wardrobe, rarely leaving the house not looking her best. This was her way of honoring her mother. She had instilled in Valerie the importance of being proper and feminine.

Buckley waited in the dinning room. “Breakfast is ready, Miss Miles.”

Valerie scanned the hotcakes on the table. “It smells delicious, Buckley. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Buckley pulled out a chair and Valerie sat down. She immediately reached for the newspaper. She wasn’t surprised to see that the front page story was about her. Not really her, but the masked motorcycle girl.

“‘Masked Girl Foils Crooks’” Valerie read aloud, almost chuckling. She stared up at Buckley. “Have you read this?”

“Yes I have,” Buckley replied. “Miss Miles, there’s something in there that you may not like. I’m sure that...”

Valerie proceeded to read the story. “What?” she suddenly exclaimed. “That bastard!”

Buckley flinched. “Really, Miss Miles. Such language.”

She looked up at Buckley. “Did you see what that pin-head Blake said about me?”

“Miss Miles, it’s-"

“Listen to this: ‘Police Captain Thomas Blake said this masked girl is nothing more than a glory seeking vigilante who is interfering with serious police work.’” Valerie threw the newspaper down on the table and stood.

“Miss Miles, I wouldn’t-"

“How dare he say that?” Valerie said sharply. “If it hadn’t been for me those crooks would have escaped!”

“Miss Miles-"

“I’ve worked really hard the past three years, learning judo, gymnastics, how to ride a motorcycle without breaking my neck, and using weapons!” Valerie paced back and forth, continuing her tirade. “And now this...this...Blake character is calling me a glory seeking vigilante! If I wanted glory I wouldn’t wear a mask! Oh, that really makes me tired! ‘Glory seeking vigilante’! If I ever get my hands on him...”

“Miss Miles, you shouldn’t take what he says seriously,” Buckley said. “Keep in mind that you’re a woman who’s doing something great. Blake and many others will not understand that. That’s just the way it is. At least now”

Valerie sighed. As usual, Buckley was right. “Do you think someday things will be different?”

“With women like you leading the way things will change,” Buckley said. “Just keep going, Miss Miles. Don’t listen to jerks like Blake."

Valerie smiled. She kissed Buckley on the cheek “Thank you, Buckley. Now, let's eat."

Valerie stared out the window of her second story office, studying the steady flow of traffic and people in the streets below. Surely someone out there needed the services of V.H. Miles, Private Investigator, she thought. Her private eye business was three months old, but she had yet to land a case. She did get some potential customers, but the men merely wanted to date her and the women didn’t like her. She began to understand why women had trouble in social advancement.

She had even gone to the trouble of using only her initials on her office door. Thus far she had been mistaken for the secretary, wife, sister, girlfriend, and even “the other woman” of V.H. Miles. As the first and only female P.I. in the city she expected some resistance, but certainly didn’t expect to be looking for her first case three months later. She wasn't the most experienced P.I. and had used her "natural charms" to "by-pass" some of the requirements, but she did have a degree in criminal justice and was licensed. That meant nothing to the men who were too busy ogling her breasts and legs.

She decided to take an early lunch, which wasn’t the first time, and headed to Jake’s Café, her usual lunch designation. The café was located within walking distance and she knew the owner, Jake Battles, personally. He was a retired merchant marine who had settled down to a less adventurous life. Though he was an imposing and gruff man, Valerie was drawn to his sensitivity. He was basically her "bartender" who would listen to her problems.

Valerie stepped into Jake’s Café to the sound of a ringing bell. She was immediately spotted by Jake Battles and greeted him with a smile. The male customers stopped cold in the consumption of their meals to gawk at the redheaded knock-out strolling toward the counter. She sat at her usual place, fully aware that every man was leering at her. She was used to it and no longer bothered her.

“Good morning Jake,” Valerie said cheerfully to a husky man behind the counter. “How’s business?”

“Could be better,” Jake replied. His late morning had just improved with the arrival of Valerie. “You’re early again, aren’t you?”

Valerie smiled. “It’s your food.”

“It ain’t that good,” Jake said, leaning on the counter in front of Valerie. “I’m glad you’re here. It helps with the male customers.”

“Anything for you, Jake,” Valerie said. “I’ll have the usual.”

“Coming right up.”

Jake busied himself on preparing Valerie’s food. Valerie looked around the intimate café. Her attention was suddenly drawn to a nearby booth where a man was giving an Asian busboy a hard time.

The heavyset man stood before the busboy, towering over the frightened young man. “This is what you and your kind did to me!” he said, showing the busboy his left hand, which was replaced by a metal hook. “But I was lucky, at least I made it home!”

“You make mistake,” the busboy said. “I’m Chinese, not Japanese.”

“The hell you are!” the man said angrily, shoving the busboy to the floor.

Valerie knew it was time to step in. She stood and dashed in front of the man. “Leave him alone!”

Valerie’s boldness surprised the man. “Beat it, sweetheart, this ain’t none of your business.”

The man stretched his arm out, placing it on Valerie’s shoulder. He attempted to shove her aside. Valerie grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it violently, stepped in front of him, and flipped him over her shoulder. The startled man landed on top of a table, smashing it to bits as he landed flat on his back. The man was temporarily dazed, but recovered quickly. He got to his knees and stood before Valerie. She raised her hands, waiting for the man’s attack in a judo stance.

Jake made his way toward Valerie and the man, holding a baseball bat. “All right, mister, that’s enough. You’re out of here.”

The man glared at Jake and then at Valerie. He thought better of it and picked up his hat. “You just lost a customer,” he said to Jake.

“It’s not the first time,” Jake said.

The man stared at Valerie and grinned. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Valerie and Jake watched the man walk out of the café. All activity had ceased around them. Jake addressed the customers. “All right, folks, the show’s over. Anybody up for apple pie?”

“Sorry about that, Jake,” Valerie said, looking down at the broken table. “Put it on my tab.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake said. “That’s the most excitement I’ve had in a while. Where did you learn to do that?”

“Just standard P.I. procedure,” Valerie replied. “I think I’ll take a rain check on that sandwich.” She gazed out the window and exhaled. “That was one bitter man.”

“War can make good men turn bad,” Jake said, shaking his head. He made his way to the frightened busboy who was still sitting on the floor.

Valerie looked around the café, noticing she was still the center of attention. It was time to leave. “See you around, Jake,” she said, heading to the door.

Valerie exited the café, unaware that she had caught the eye of a young man sitting across the café. The young man took a final drink from his coffee and stood, never taking his eyes off Valerie. He pulled out his wallet, placed some money on the table, and went after her.

Valerie stood outside the café, contemplating whether to call it a day or return to her office. She failed to notice the young man approach until it was too late. She heard footsteps behind her and turned, ready for anything.

The young man raised his hands and took a step back. “Easy. I just want to talk. I saw your handy work in there. Nice going.”

"Thank you."

Valerie glanced over the young man. He wasn’t overly tall, perhaps only a couple of inches taller than her. He was attractive in a boyish kind of way. His thick dark hair was parted and neatly combed. His ethnic features were quite intriguing.

“Can I help you?” Valerie asked.

“Yes...” the young man replied, awed by the attractive redhead. “My name is David Dulac. I’m a reporter for The Examiner.”

He offered his hand to Valerie and she shook it briefly. “Valerie Miles,” she replied. “What can I do for you, Mr...Dulac?”

“That's right. It’s a Cajun name,” Dulac explained. “I’m from Louisiana. Best shrimp in the world, but not much else.” He noticed the impatience in Valerie’s face. “That was a heck of a move in there. What was that...Karate?”

“Judo,” Valerie replied.

“Very nice,” Dulac said. “What line of work are you in? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a private investigator.”

“A private eye?” Dulac said, once again taking in her appearance. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a woman P.I.”

“As far as I know I’m the only one in the city,” Valerie replied.

“How interesting.”

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Dulac.”

Valerie walked away from Dulac. She knew this conversation was not over. Dulac chased after her, catching up with her at a busy intersection. “Excuse me, Miss Miles, but would you be interested in me doing a story on you?”

“A story about me?” Valerie asked, unconvinced.

“Why not?” Dulac said. “It’s a good human interest story. Aside from the vigilante girl you're the next best subject. It might even help your business some.”

“What makes you think I need help in my business?”

“Don’t you?”

Valerie glared at Dulac. “Mr. Dulac...”

“I'n sorry. You probably do very well. Why don’t we discuss it over dinner?” Dulac offered. “I know this great Cajun place.”

“Not in a million years, Mr Dulac.”

“Not in a million years what?” Dulac asked. “You won’t do the story or you won’t have dinner with me?”

“Both,” Valerie said. “Good day, Mr. Dulac.”

Valerie walked away from Dulac. He watched her cross the street but didn’t chase after her. He grinned from ear to ear. “Not in a million years,” he said to himself. “She didn’t say never.”

Valerie headed back to her office. She never made it easy for the men who courted her, always staying a step ahead. Still, this David Dulac had a charm she hadn't encountered before. She had a feeling she hadn't seen the last of him. She suddenly stopped walking and turned back in the direction of Dulac. He was walking away and failed to notice Valerie flash a faint smile.

Valerie stood outside her office door, wondering if she was ever going to get a case. She was nearing the end of her rope. Maybe this private investigator business wasn't for her. Something needed to happen, and quickly. She opened the door and walked into the office.

She was about to flick the light switch but didn't make it. She felt a powerful blow on her neck, followed by a paralyzing pain. She gasped sharply and the world went black. She was out cold before she hit the floor.

When she emerged from her forced sleep she wished she hadn’t. Valerie groaned with discomfort at the pain stabbing the back of her neck. That was the least of her problems. She tried to move but couldn’t. She laid on the floor with her arms tied behind her back. Her ankles were also bound securely. If that wasn’t enough she was also gagged. A packing of some sort was stuffed in her mouth, held in place by a narrow cleave gag cinched tightly between her teeth.

She looked around nervously, wincing with pain as she recovered. She was still in her office. Who had done this to her and why? There was no one in the room. She rolled over on her stomach, groaning under the gag. She strained against her bonds. There was some give, but the bindings around her wrists held tight. The stretchy material felt strangely familiar.

She rolled on her side, gazing down at her bare legs. Her nylons and shoes were missing! She was tied with her own stockings! How humiliating, she thought. Not to mention that it was her best pair of nylons. She had no idea who was behind this but vowed to break free and get even. She rolled around the floor, once again straining in a futile attempt to break free. She was suprised at how strong a flimsy material like nylon could be when pulled taut.

Her struggling stopped abruptly when she heard the sound of running water coming from inside the bathroom in her office. Whoever had tied her up was in there! The running water stopped and the bathroom door opened. Valerie braced, not knowing what to expect. A slender man dressed in a wrinkled suit stepped out of the bathroom. Dark piercing eyes and a thin mustache stood out from an otherwise ordinary face. His skin was naturally dark and he was obviously Latin. He stood near the entrance of the bathroom, making eye contact with Valerie.

“Whooommm do ink..u..mmmph!” Valerie said through the gag. It was the best her mouth could with: Who do you think you are?

The man remained relatively calm, though his eyes shifted nervously. “You’re awake,” he said flatly. “I’m sorry about hitting you and tying you up, but I can’t take any chances.”

“Unnntie mmpphh mmmph!” Valerie protested. What she meant to say was: Untie me now! To further express her point she thrashed about, tugging at her bound wrists and ankles.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’ll untie you as soon as V.H. Miles gets here. I assume he's out to lunch?” the man said. “Is he a friend of yours?”

Valerie shook her head furiously. “Hummmmph! thhmmm me! Hmmmmph mmmmph!” She lost her patience and was now angry. How dare this man treat her like this?

The dark man walked to where she lay, kneeling before her. Valerie glared at him, nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. “My name is Jose Hernandez. I need to speak with V.H. Miles. I’m going to ask you some questions. Shake your head for ‘no’ and nod for ‘yes’. Do you understand?”

“Hmmmmppph!” Valerie shouted. “Immmmpphh....Mmmmph!” As a last resort she rubbed her face against the floor, attempting to pull the gag free.

Hernandez had stuffed his handkerchief in Valerie’s mouth and cleave- gagged her with his neck tie. There was no way it was going to come free. He placed his hand under Valerie’s chin, lifting her squirming face toward his.

“Let us have none of that,” Hernandez said casually. “I could remove the gag, but you would probably start cursing and yelling and we would get off to a bad start. Don’t you agree?”

Bad start? Valerie was incensed. This strange man had broken into her office, knocked her out cold, bound and gagged her...with her best pair of nylons, and he was worried about getting off to a bad start? Once she broke free he was done!

“Now,” Hernandez said camly. “Will V.H. Miles be back soon? For your sake I hope that’s the case.”

Valerie had to find a way of communicating to this idiot that she was V.H. Miles. “Mmmmphhhh!" she muttered, gesturing with her head toward the desk in the office.“Mmmpphhh! Dssslkk mmmpphhh pplllsss!”

Hernandez turned to the desk. “You want me to look in the desk?” he asked.

Valerie nodded furiously.

Hernandez shrugged. “Okay, but you better not be wasting my time.”

Valerie glared at the man, her eyes narrowing. If looks could kill this man would be deader than a dinosaur. How dare he taunt her like this?

Hernandez stood, circling around the desk. He opened a drawer on the side of the desk, finding a woman’s handbag inside. He pulled out the bag and tossed it on top of the desk.

“Is this what I’m looking for?” he asked Valerie.

Valerie nodded and grunted.

Hernandez dumped the contents of the handbag on the desk. He sorted through the contents as Valerie looked on from the floor, fuming with anger. He found an I.D. case and flicked it open. His face dropped when he realized his mistake.

He glanced at Valerie. “You’re V.H. Miles?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Valerie nodded ominously.

Hernandez covered his eyes with his hand. He suddenly began laughing. "Talk about false advertising," he muttered.

That was not the reaction Valerie expected or wanted. She thrashed about the floor, hurling a series of muffled threats at Hernandez. The Latin man was about to walk over to Valerie when the phone on the desk rang. He contemplated whether to answer the phone or untie Valerie.

“Just a second,” he told Valerie as he picked up the phone. “Yeah?” he said into the mouthpiece. There was a short pause and Hernandez stared at Valerie. “I’m a client. Miss Miles is....all tied up right now. Can I take a message?” After another short pause Hernandez said goodbye and hung up the phone. He addressed Valerie, who was about to explode with anger. “That was some guy named Berkley or something. Said to tell you to pick up some red wine for dinner.”

“Mmmmpphhhh utie mmmmmeee mmmphhh!” Valerie shouted at Hernandez.

“Oh, of course,” said Hernandez, stepping out from behind the desk. He once again knelt before Valerie. He raised his pant leg up, revealing a hidden knife strapped to his ankle. “Hold still and I’ll have you free in no time.”

Hernandez sliced through the nylon securing Valerie’s wrists behind her back. He moved to her ankles, making quick work of the stocking around her legs. Valerie sat up, reaching for the gag. She pulled the tie cleave gag down around her neck and ejected the now wet handkerchief from her mouth. She licked her lips and worked her jaw, making sure it was working properly. She glared at Hernandez.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked with controlled anger.

Hernandez stood. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were V.H. Miles.”

Valerie shot to her feet. “Why did you tie me up? Who are you? What do want?"

“One thing at a time,” Hernandez said. “I’m sorry about tying you up. Like I said, my name is Jose Hernandez and I want to hire you. You’re obviously a woman, but that’s not your fault.”

Valerie did not appreciate the last remark. “You want to hire me?” she asked, her anger rising. “You have a funny way of expressing it.”

“I’m a wanted man,” Hernandez said. “Every criminal in the city is after me. There’s a price on my head. I can't afford to trust anyone.”

“Try asking next time," Valerie said, rubbing her sore wrists. Angry red marks were still present across her soft skin. "What's your story?”

“I was in the heroin trade with a man named Drake Turco," Hernandez said, pacing around the office. "He’s a big shot in the underworld and we were partners. We were going to bring in several tons of heroin from South America. That was the plan.”

Hernandez parted the blinds of the window, staring at the street below. He continued his tale as Valerie listened, still angry about being bound and gagged. “I decided I wanted no part of it. You see, Turco plans to distribute the stuff in schools. You know, start them early. Let’s just say that’s not my style.”

“Why does this Turco want you dead?” Valerie asked.

“Because I know about him and his plan,” Hernandez replied. “He doesn’t want me to talk. I might tell my story to the wrong people.”

“Why come to me?” Valerie asked, not sure whether to believe any of this. “Why not go to the police?”

“He has cops on his payroll,” Hernandez scoffed. “I wouldn’t last fifteen minutes in police custody. They’d find me hanging from my cell faster than you can say 'crooked cops'".

“What do you want from me?” Valerie asked.

“Protection,” Hernandez said. “I need a bodyguard and a place to stay. I've been on the run for three days now. I'm suprised I've lasted this long."

“I’m not in the habit of protecting criminals,” Valerie said. “Especially narcotic traders.”

“Look, if we don’t stop Turco a lot of kids are going to be hurt. Do you want that?”

“How are we going to stop this Turco?”

Hernandez shrugged. “I got connections. I'll find out where and how he’s bringing in the heroin and we'll go from there. Of course in order to do that I need to stay alive.”

Valerie remained silent. She was still angry at Hernandez for what he had done to her, but decided that preventing this Turco character from flooding San Francisco with heroin was more important. This was also an opportunity to put her skills as the Black Fox to use.

“I’ll agree to help you on one condition,” Valerie said.

“Name it.”

“After this thing is over you turn yourself in to the police.”

“If I’m still alive,” Hernandez said.

“Let’s get out of here,” Valerie said, searching for her shoes.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe,” Valerie replied. She found her discarded shoes and slipped them on. “By the way, you owe me a pair of nylons.”

Hernandez stared at Valerie’s shapely legs as she stepped into her shoes. He could still recall her smooth, warm skin as he removed her stockings. After tying her up he retreated into the bathroom to relieve himself from the biggest hard-on he’d ever had in his life. If he had met this Valerie Miles a week before he would have helped himself. Too bad he had switched sides, at least for now.

THE END-PART TWO