J.T. Edson - Blonde Genius

So, having taken all the facts into account, the man regarded his period on sentry duty as nothing more than a waste of time. Of course, he would get paid overtime for doing it, which was something to look forward to.

Having passed around the rear of the building, the man turned along the western wall. He saw a shape ahead and came to a halt. Starting to raise the Schmeisser, he studied the figure and relaxed. Small, bent, wearing a long skirt and with a shawl covering its head, the person in front of him looked like an aged Turkish woman of the kind that were all too common in the neighbourhood.

“Hoi, Granny!” the man called, in Turkish. “Get out of here.”

Stopping the figure peered in the mans direction. She raised her cupped left hand to her ear, but did not withdraw. Deciding that she must be hard of hearing the man slouched closer.

Crouching behind a rock, Miss Benkinsop flashed a look to where Amanda lay in the shadows of a small depression in the ground. Then the headmistress turned her gaze to where the burly man bore down upon the bent, ‘aged’, almost diminutive figure.

Comparing Penelope’s size with that of the sentry, Miss Benkinsop experienced some slight misgivings. Yet the head girl had been so insistent that she should be the one to go and request permission to enter the villa. Both Penelope and Amanda had been aghast at the idea of Miss Benkinsop lowering herself by doing so personally. At least, that had been the excuse upon which they had based their arguments. The headmistress had yielded, despite her conviction that—for all she had impressed them with her attire—they still believed that her age precluded her from any strenuous part in the visit.

Of course, one liked the girls to show initiative and a willingness to assume responsibility. But Miss Benkinsop was finding their attitudes—respectful and well-intentioned as they might be—a trifle irritating.

Watching the man approach, without losing her pose as an aged Turkish woman, Penelope prepared to make her request. As everybody knows, the Japanese had made remarkable strides in the field of Debating. Penelope had learned a number of their arguments and intended to make use of some. It seemed that she was making a good job of her impersonation, for the man had returned the Schmeisser to the crook of his left arm.

Lorraine Capone preferred a Schmeisser to the more aesthetically satisfying Thompson, which did not endear the man to the head girl. In fact, it lessened any slight scruples which might otherwise have assailed her. When all was said and done, she did intend to take an unfair advantage of him; which went against her nature as a leading member of the Benkinsop’s Debating Society.

“Come on, Grannie,” the man said, extending his right hand. “Get back to the vill——Ooof!”

Holding her thumb across the palm of her hand, Penelope jabbed her extended fingers quickly and forcefully into the man’s solar plexus. Taken by surprise at such a response from a bent and ‘aged’ Turkish lady, the man gasped and withdrew a step. The Schmeisser fell from under his arm as he doubled over at the waist.

Instantly Penelope proved that she had learned more than one piece of foreign culture. Still retaining her hands in the same manner, she raised both into the air. Down they flashed, chopping their edges against the sides of the man’s neck. Sounding as if he had a frog in his throat, he sank on to his hands and knees.

Leaving their places of concealment, Miss Benkinsop and Amanda darted forward. They converged on the head girl as she prepared to ensure that the man could not spoil their surprise by announcing their presence.

“Let me, please, Penny,” Amanda requested, polite as always.

“Oh, all right,” Penelope replied graciously and lowered her foot.

Always generous to a fault, the head girl also appreciated that the School Swot had worked exceedingly hard to organise the outing. On top of that poor Amanda was always too busy cramming to get much fun out of life. She never even found time to take part in any of the Debating Evenings. So Penelope decided that her friend deserved a treat.

Stepping aside, Penelope allowed Amanda to approach the man. He was still on his hands and knees, gasping for breath and showing signs of deep distress at being unable to carry out his duties. Amanda reached out her left hand, inserting it carefully and delicately under the left side of his open-necked shirt. Enfolding his shoulder, near the base of his neck, with her thumb and fingers, she sought for, found and pressed gently at a particular point.

Instantly the man relaxed. Sinking forward, he lay face down and motionless on the track.

“’Ere!” Penelope yelped. “What’d you do to him?”

“Just a little something I learned when I translated Professor Ayashi Kamimoto’s treatise on karate from the original Japanese,” Amanda replied. “It’s called the ‘ Tanoshii ikoi o sasotta yasashii oshi ’, which means ‘Gentle Pressure Which Induces Pleasing Repose’.”

“Cor! Does it hurt him?”

“Gracious me, no!” the School Swot gasped, aghast at the thought that she would knowingly inflict harm upon another person. “He’ll merely be unconscious for ninety minutes, with the amount of pressure I applied. But he won’t suffer any ill effects. In fact, he’ll wake up quite refreshed.”

“Cooer!” Penelope ejaculated, then a slightly annoyed expression came to her perky face. “I fink you’re mean, Amanda Tweedle. You never told me about it.”

“That was my decision,” Miss Benkinsop put in “It wouldn’t have been fair to your Debating opponents if you had known about it. They have so little chance against you as it is.”

“I did want to tell you, Penny,” Amanda apologised, pleased that the headmistress had exonerated her from her friends implied charge of disloyalty.

“I should’ve known you would,” Penelope admitted. “And Miss Benkinsop’s right about it, too.”

“Come, girls,” Miss Benkinsop put in, satisfied that harmony had been restored. “We are wasting time.”

“Let us do that, ma’am,” Penelope requested, stepping forward hurriedly as the headmistress reached out to take hold of the unmoving, blissful-looking man. “Come on, Amanda, give us a ’and,”

Miss Benkinsop stood back, frowning a little, as the girls gripped the man by his wrists and hauled him towards the hollow in which Amanda had concealed herself. Having settled him comfortably with Penelope— always the joker—insisting that he be laid flat on his back and with hands folded upon his chest, they gathered the kitbags.

“You’d better let Benkers carry her own,” Amanda advised, taking a belt from which were suspended a coiled rope attached to a grapnel of her own design, various tools and a small plastic sack. “I think she’s annoyed at us for molly-coddling her as we have been doing.”

“It’s f or her own good.” Penelope protested, watching Amanda strap on the belt.

“I know, dear,” the School Swot replied. “But you know what these middle-aged ladies are like concerning these things.”

“Cor, though,” Penelope grinned, slinging her kitbag across her shoulder. “Doesn’t Benkers look fab in that cat-suit?”

“I only hope I look as good at her age,” Amanda confessed, gathering the two remaining kitbags and followed the head girl to the waiting headmistress. “May we carry one please. ma’am?”

“Please do,” Miss Benkinsop replied, holding out her hand. “I’ll take my bag, dear. And yours—”

“I’ll have it, ma’am,” Penelope interrupted, interposing herself deftly so as to take Amanda’s kitbag. Well, I don’t have any-fing else to do for a bit.”

“Very well,” Miss Benkinsop assented resignedly, promising herself that she would teach the girls a lesson if the opportunity presented itself.