Part 26 (2/2)
The last garment was removed and she was naked there in the middle of the living room. He studied her body again, that pa.s.sionless, preoccupied frown on his face. He drew her down onto the floor and, for a moment, the room spun around Rhoda, her emotional entrapment now the focal point, the eye of the storm that raged in her being. He went on with his minute inspection of her person.
_No--no. Please don't. Please don't treat me like this. I'm a woman.
Don't be contemptuous of me. Oh, no--please. Don't degrade and humiliate me like this._
There was sudden pain. Rhoda's body wrenched and heaved upward. With a sob, she sank back to the floor.
_I must fight. I must not allow this. I must not let him do these cruel, degrading things to me. I must fight but I am afraid to. I am afraid he'll go away and never come back--and if he did that, there would be nothing left for me._
John Dennis seemed to become aware for the first time that certain manipulations caused reaction--the jerking of Rhoda's body and her involuntary cry of pain. He repeated the manipulation with his eyes on her face.
_I cannot allow this. I must fight. I must resist. Oh, Rhoda Kane, what has happened to you? Frank, please help, help me. Frank--_
But something seemed to flow out of John Dennis and into her mind and soul and spirit; something that made the flesh and what was done to the flesh unimportant.
The touch of John Dennis' hand brought fright as it foretold further pain and degradation. Rhoda sobbed inwardly and braced herself to withstand whatever was to come.
_Mad!--mad!--mad!_
But it meant nothing.
The building was not for tourists. It wasn't like the Pentagon or the White House or any of the other historical or glamour symbols in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C. It was on a side street, and while no one a.s.sociated it with governmental activity, it was of a size and importance that justified a uniformed attendant in the lobby.
He was a hard-bitten old Irishman named Callahan, and n.o.body got past him without justification. Also, he was a man of robust hates and great loyalties; a man whom Brent Taber was honored to call friend.
He was also a man Brent Taber was waiting to hear from.
The call came late in the afternoon of the day following Charles Blackwell's search for his would-be brother. Taber picked up the phone.
”It's me--Callahan. He's here, Mr. Taber.”
”Thanks. I'll be right over.”
”And be hurrying right along if you want to get here in time. He's not one to be restrained indefinitely.”
”Tell him the elevator's busted.”
Brent Taber slammed the phone down and left. He used an elevator this time and went across town in a cab. Even then, he was almost too late.
As he arrived at his destination, Senator Crane was protesting loudly.
”It's just plain stupidity. Elevators don't quit running for no reason.
Find a burnt-out fuse. Do something! And do it quick or I'll phone somebody who will!”
”Well, I'll be blessed,” Callahan said, completely crest-fallen. ”It was the switch, Senator. The blessed switch was off.”
”Well, turn it on and get me up to ten.”
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