She studied the top of his head and selected the exact point of entry. It was to be the motor cortex just behind the frontal lobe. It would produce immediate paralysis of basic movements and the brain stem would cease to stimulate the lung muscles. His life would expire within ninety seconds.

He was grunting as he continued his savage thrusts into her and growled, "Do you like being fucked hard, you whore."

Her legs were wrapped tightly around him and her arms were behind his back. She reached for the underside of her right forearm and with her left thumbnail picked at the flesh coloured plastic skin. She peeled back one inch and grasped the thickest part of the tapered tungsten steel spike. She withdrew it easily.

It was of no importance which way his head was tilting as both her hands were equally efficient, but as he was leaning slightly to her left she kept the spike in her left hand.

He raised his head and snarled, "You like my cock, don’t you?" and spat into her face.

His spittle landed just above her mouth but her concentration was not affected. She put her right hand behind his neck and pulled his head towards her. Her thumb was behind the thickened base of the spike and she raised her arm. Her stomach muscles tensed and she stabbed downwards. There was a cracking sound as the spike pierced his skull exactly at her point of aim.

His body jerked spasmodically for nineteen seconds and she held his head tightly to her until his movements had ceased. She reached into her mouth and removed the wad of soft silicon that she had been concealing and wrapped it around the spike close to his skull.

She reached for a tissue and wiped his saliva from her face while she waited for the full seven minutes of average bleeding time to expire. There was no need to check her watch because her mental clock was just as accurate. When exactly four hundred and twenty seconds had elapsed she carefully withdrew the spike, at the same time pressing the silicon into the hole to stop any seepage.

The girl removed the excess silicon from around the puncture hole and folded it into the tissue that she used to clean the spike. She tidied his hair and slid the spike back into the pocket under her forearm and pressed the self-sealing skin into place.

Only then did she roll him off her and on to his back. His eyes were open but she closed them and then effortlessly lifted him higher so that his head was on the pillow. She dressed quickly and took a cheroot from the box on the bedside table. She lit it and placed it between the fingers of his hand and then folded his arm across his chest.

Once again she checked, but she already knew that there would be no trace of her remaining in the room. The transparent micro-thin pads on her fingers tips would leave no prints on the wine glass or in the bathroom.

She tapped on the door and the guard opened it. He looked over her shoulder at the man lying on the bed who had his eyes closed but was smoking a cigar. He quietly closed the door as he let her out.

The guard was heavily built and had an acrid smell of body odour. He was unshaven and his teeth were brown as he grinned at her. He reached behind and squeezed her buttocks as he sneered, "Did he give you a good fucking then?"

She stepped away from him and giggled. She said, "You look like you would do better than him." As she walked to the top of the stairs she looked back at him and wriggled her bottom provocatively.

The downstairs guard looked up as the tall blonde hooker descended the stairs. He had searched her when she arrived and she had been clean. He opened the front door and gestured to the waiting taxi. She gave him a brief smile as she passed through the door and it closed behind her.

She settled into the back seat of the cab as it pulled away and lifted up the seat beside her. The case within the hollow space contained a complete set of clothes and she changed quickly. Her blonde wig was swapped for a mousy one and she altered her face makeup. She pulled on thick stockings and exchanged her stiletto shoes for brogues.

Only when she had stowed the case back inside the seat did the driver speak. "Your passport is in the pocket in front of you and your flight goes in two hours. You fly to Paris where you will pick up the connection. We'll be at the airport in fifteen." She remained silent.

As he pulled up in the departure lane she stepped out. She was no longer a brassy prostitute but a plain middle aged woman.

The morning was grey and drizzly as the girl walked along Lombard Street and turned into the bank entrance. The door at the far end of the hall was marked 'Staff only' and the lock clicked open when she swiped her card. The corridor was quiet as she made her way to the private lift and pressed the button to descend. When the lift opened she walked the few paces to the heavy oak door and pressed her right palm against the scanner. She waited the few seconds for the camera to blink green and pushed the door open.

The woman sitting behind the desk looked as drab as her office. She was in her middle thirties. Her hair was dragged behind in a severe bun. She was gazing at a computer screen.
The girl said, "Namaste, Devika jee. (Good morning, Miss Devika.)"

Without taking her eyes from the screen the women replied, "Namaste, Bela. Tum hamesha ki tarah der se panhuchi ho. (Good morning, Bela. You have arrived late as usual.)" She continued without looking up, "Madam ne kaha hai ki tumhe aate hi andar bhejna hai. (Madam asked me to send you right in.)"

The girl smiled and walked to the other door. The room she entered was equally cheerless and paneled in dark oak. The neon strip lighting cast a depressing glow on the brown carpet that had an indistinct pattern. Air conditioning hissed softly but failed to remove the lingering musty smell. There were framed pictures of yachts on the walls and the room was without windows.

The woman sitting behind the desk was in her fifties. She was wearing a black sari and her grey hair was cut short in masculine style with a parting. She wore no makeup. Her desk contained a computer screen and a few files neatly stacked. Extending the full width and height of the wall behind her was a bookcase filled to capacity. There was a single straight backed chair in front of the desk. The girl sat in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. The woman stared at her as if hoping for a word but when one was not forthcoming she sighed and looked back at her screen.

She said, "Hamesha ki tarah tumne ye kaam bhi bahut mustaidi se anjaam diya hai. Agency tumhare kaam se khush hai. Par mujhe pata chala hai ki aakhiri waqt par tum standard technique se hat gayee thee. Tumne us ghatiya aadmi ko apne oopar chadhne diya. (As usual you have completed this assignment with tremendous efficiency. The agency is happy with your work. But I have learnt that you deviated from the standard technique at the last moment. You allowed that scoundrel to mount you.)"

"Madam, main dekhna chahti thee ki jab mard jhadne ke kagaar par hota hai us waqt achaanak uski aatma uske shareer ka sath chhod de to uska chehra kaisa dikhta hai. Bahut hi pyara manzar tha. Aisa nazaara aapko bhi dekhna chaahiye. (Ma’am, I wanted to see how a man looks when he is about to cum, and suddenly his soul departs from his body. It was a lovely sight. You should also witness such a scene.)"

The woman looked at Bela disapprovingly, tapped on her keyboard and then leaned back in her chair. She placed the tips of her fingers together as if praying and put them to her lips. She stared at the girl for a few seconds before she said in English, "There is another assignment and I have been deliberating who would best deal with it. It's a tricky one and I've decided to give it you as I believe your unique talents make you the most suitable."

She lifted the top file and passed it across the desk. The girl opened it and turned the few pages. When she had turned the last page she closed the file and handed it back.

The woman placed it carefully back on the pile and said, "Describe him."

The girl also replied in English, "Age thirty eight, one hundred and seventy five centimetres, one hundred kilograms, black receding hair. Two bullet scars; one in the left upper chest and the other in the right shoulder. Served two terms of imprisonment; the first for three years when aged eighteen for wounding with a knife and then five years aged twenty seven for violent assault in which the victim died. The murder charge was dropped when the witnesses disappeared. Known as the Bull...."

The woman held up her hand to stop the flow. She smiled for the first time. "I had no doubt that you would have stored every detail, it's just that it never ceases to amaze me."

She leaned back in her chair and with a serious expression said, "He is a very unpleasant man who has become a nuisance. As you will have seen, he describes himself as an exporter but his merchandise consists of the female population. Much of it is finding its way into other European countries. He seems to have the local constabulary in his pocket which is why he continues to operate unhindered.

My associates and I decided some time ago that he should be deleted. The French sent their best man to accomplish the mission. Some of him was later deposited at their embassy gate labeled 'return to sender'. So now it's our turn."

The women gazed intently at the girl before she spoke again. "Bella this will require all of your ingenuity and a considerable amount of luck to get close to him but somehow you always find a way. As usual, anything that you require will be made available to you and will await your arrival.

The girl remained silent.

When there was no reaction the woman said, "You can download the file and you have seven days to prepare yourself. Your contact will be this man." She passed another file across the desk.

"He is Arnold Simpson and he occupies the position of English teacher at the local school where you will be his trainee.