Disclaimer: The Equalizer and all its characters are property of Universal and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.  


Harley Gage walked along the hallway and barged into the office of the local desk officer without bothering to knock. He was pissed, which wasn't unusual, and looking for an argument.

Richard Dyson didn’t even raise his head at the abrupt entrance, he continued reading a report. "Sit down, Gage. This won't take a minute."

The immaculately dressed older man waved him in the direction of the easy chairs on the other side of the office but Gage was feeling antsy. He’d only been back in the country for two days having been dragged out of Eastern Europe just when things were getting interesting.

"It’s okay, I’ll sit here." Pushing the chair facing the desk back a little, he sprawled in it and, lifting his feet, rested them on the desk. Half of him hoped that Dyson would tell him to move them, then he could tell him where he could stick his new operation and his job.

About five minutes later, just as he was about to lose it, Dyson put down the report.

"So, Dyson, what hellhole have you got for me this time? Beirut? Nicaragua?" It was August; either place would be the pits at this time of year.

"Neither. I’ve got a special job for you, Gage."

"Special? Shit! That must mean Europe. Somewhere like Bulgaria or Albania. So why the hell did you drag me back here first?"

"Wrong again!" There was a harder snap to Dyson’s voice this time and Gage decided he'd better hear him out.

"Okay. Where?"


Not sure he had heard correctly Gage repeated, "Duluth?"

"Yes, Duluth. What’s the matter – is there something wrong with your ears?"

"Ahh, no. I was just surprised. Isn’t operating a mission in Duluth treading on FBI toes?"

"Of course it is. That is why this is a special assignment. There are reasons why I picked you."

"Okay, Dyson, I’ll buy it. What do you want me to do?" Harley found himself grinning. A special assignment! That would look good on his résumé.

Dyson unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out a file, passing it over. "That file doesn’t leave this office. Read it and then I’ll answer any questions you have."


Gage shut the file. They wanted him to spy on another agent and there was a good chance that this one was very dirty. Reading between the lines of the report it looked like the wife, Angela Walker, was the primary reason for Colonel Tom Walker to turn traitor. Mrs. Walker had very expensive tastes and also an eye for anything in a pair of pants. Harley was a little concerned that there had been an incident a few years back when Walker had shot a man and claimed that he was an intruder. The police were of the opinion that he had killed his wife’s latest lover. But nothing had ever been proved. He would have to keep his wits about him.

"How do you want me to play it?" From the picture Angela Walker was a real looker and Harley liked the idea of trying to get into her panties.

"I’ve picked you for this mission because you will probably appeal to Angela Walker. Use that to get into the house and have a look around. Our masters in Washington know that Walker is part of a spy ring working in the area and is passing National Security information over to Moscow. But because we’re not supposed to operate in this country, those upstairs can't just tell the FBI openly. They want you to plant some information and arrange things so that the authorities have to take a look at the house. Once they find the files they’ll wrap up the whole network. Walker isn’t as important as his cronies and contacts."

"How far can I go?" He knew what Dyson's answer was going to be, after all, thinking on his feet was another of his specialties.

"As far as necessary. Washington wants this problem to disappear but they also want enough evidence to cover their collective asses should someone make a fuss."

Gage smiled again. "Okay. Who’s my back-up?"

"No one"

"No back-up?" Just how he liked it – no one to check up on him.

"There is no one else who can be trusted with this operation. I'm your contact and won't leave this office until I know you have the job done."

"Am I flying out of La Guardia? "

"Yes, seven o’clock tomorrow morning."

Harley stood to leave, "Okay, I’ll be there at six-thirty."

"Where will you be this evening if I need to go over any details with you?"

Harley shook his head, "No way. I’ve got plans tonight."


"Yeah. I have a date with a very curvy redhead and a big steak – not necessarily in that order."

"I suppose this means you sleep through the flight tomorrow."

Gage grinned and nodded, "I sure don’t aim to sleep tonight."


Harley looked around him and wiped his forehead on the back of his arm. As he had expected the sidewalk in Duluth in August was hot enough to fry an egg, even this early in the morning.

Once he had arrived in the Walker’s neighborhood he had parked the car and gotten out to take a look at the area on foot. Finally his roundabout route led him back to the target’s house. He walked on, stopping once to ease his sticky shirt away from his back and take a good look at the house. The yard was really overgrown and it occurred to him, if there looked to be no other way to contact this woman, that he might be able to offer to do some yard work there. That could be his way in. Not that the idea of physical labor appealed to him at all. He’d prefer a different route. A bar and a pick up, but Dyson wanted the stuff planted in the house ASAP. So here he was, playing the brawny type.

The big house, in a very prestigious location, and the Porsche that she owned told him that they were living beyond the income of a Colonel working for the NSA. The file Dyson showed him also said that, along with her affairs, her husband had been balling another women for the past year.

While he was still looking, an imported car pulled into the drive and a very attractive brunette got out. It was the Walker woman and her picture in the file hadn’t done her justice. She had a figure that made him hard just looking at her. The view when she bent forward to lift a bag of groceries out of the back seat and her skintight shirt made it very clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Not bad! He was going to enjoy this job.

When she noticed him, she pursed her lips, looked him over for a moment and then smiled. "Can I help you?" Her voice was pleasant sounding.

"Maybe." He'd have to go for the yard work option. Nothing else came to mind right now. "I’m looking for some employment and I saw your yard. I’m real good at outdoor work and I thought that maybe I could tidy it up for you – if your husband wouldn’t mind."

"Husband?" She made him sound like a reptile that had crawled out from under a rock. "Damn it! That’s why the yard is in the mess it is, he’s never home."

She walked over to him and he could see her tits fighting with the fabric of her shirt, straining at the topmost button. Deliberately he let his gaze rest on them. When he finally looked at her face, she licked her lips and said, "How much do you charge?"

Just like he expected, she was interested.

"That all depends on what you want done."

He saw her gaze drop to his crotch for a moment and his cock reacted. "Do you work inside the house too?"

Make that very interested. Shit! This was too easy.

"Wherever you want, darlin'. My policy is satisfaction guaranteed or your money back – how’s that sound?" He made his voice low so that she had to move closer to hear him.

"Very tempting, er… What’s your name?"

"My friends call me Harley."

"Okay, Harley. My husband won’t be home until six so why don’t we continue this inside?"

"Sure thing, Mrs. …?"

"Walker, Angela Walker."

He took the bag of groceries from her and, smiling to himself, walked to the door in front of her, aware without looking that she was following his every move with her eyes. This sure was one horny female…

She shut the door behind them and at once he was enveloped in cooler air, "Hey you have air conditioning!"

"Yes, I get so hot sometimes that I made Tom put it in." Her message couldn’t have been plainer.

"Wait here a minute." She took the grocery bag from him and disappeared.

Harley looked around, they were in a hallway and he could see at least three rooms leading off. He called out, "So where do you want me to start? Out back?" It would only take him a couple of minutes to get the evidence he had to plant out of the car.

She reappeared with a half empty iced tea glass in her hand. From the smell wafting off her, it must have been full of scotch and ice. Great she was a drunk too – this job couldn't be easier.

"Why don’t we go in here first." She pushed open a door and Gage could see a sunlit room. There were a couple of couches, a TV and a big wooden dining table in front of the windows looking out onto the back yard. Angela stumbled ahead of him. In the bright light her skirt was almost transparent and he admired the way her ass moved under it.

It was a fucking shame that such a great looking piece of ass was married to a traitor.

She drained the glass and set it down on a small table and stepped towards him, "I was really thirsty. It’s a real hot one out there today."

Before he could answer she pushed him back against the wall and started sucking on his face, letting him taste the booze.

Jesus it’s like she’s on heat or something! But that suited him just fine.

Grabbing her ass, he pulled her up close, letting her feel his hard on. She must have liked that because her tongue wormed its way between his teeth and started trying to massage his tonsils. At the same time her hands were on his belt and the zipper of his pants.

He pushed her to one side and moved away from the wall. Shrugging off his shirt, then his pants he stood there for a minute to let her appreciate the goods. He was going to run this show. "How’d you want to do this, slow and easy or…?"

She managed to drag her gaze away from his rigid cock to answer dry mouthed, "Here, now, hard and fast."

"How hard?"

"Hurt me. I’ll say 'when' if you go too far and I want you to stop."

Giving her his best seductive smile he nodded, "Just how I like it."

He pushed her back against the wall and gripping both her hands in one of his, he lifted them over her head. With this other hand he lifted her skirt and tucked it up at the front. He pulled her panties down until they were around her knees. He could feel her moving around to get them around her ankles as he put his hand in between her legs. He waited until she was stepping out of the panties and stuck two fingers deep into her cunt. Her legs nearly gave out and she almost slid to the floor.

Keeping her helpless against the wall, he let his fingers get coated with her juices then he held them against her lips, "Lick them clean."

She stared at him for a second as though wondering if he was kidding but then she started licking on his hand, keeping eye contact. It made him feel even hornier.

When she had finished, he opened her shirt one handed and squeezed her nipples, one at a time, until she gasped with pain. "Good?"

"Oh God, yes." She writhed against him. "Do it now!" she groaned, "Fuck me hard!"

Lifting he positioned her in the right place and then, as she looped her legs around his hips, he forced her all the way down onto his cock. She was nice and tight. He drove into her again and again, pushing her hard up against the wall with each thrust. Gripping her hips he pounded into her until there were tears rolling down her cheeks. After what seemed like an hour she came, holding onto his neck until he thought she would strangle him. He let himself go then.

When they had both gotten their breath back, she dropped her legs back to the floor, stood up and said, "Do you want a drink?"

"A beer would be good."

With her clothes still in disarray, she lurched out of the room and came back a minute later with an opened bottle of Bud and another glass of scotch with ice. Harley had plopped down on the couch and she joined him. In a minute she’d drained the glass and was reaching for his cock again before he’d even finished his beer.

"Hey take your time, I need a chance to recover from a great fuck like that." From her stupid smile she really believed him – Jesus the woman was a skank. Stroking himself to get hard again he asked, "How do you want it this time?" To give him more time he took one last long hit from the beer.

She giggled and handed him a small bottle of oil she had taken from her skirt pocket. "I want it from behind."

"In the ass?" Jesus, he’d hit the mother load of an assignment.

"Yes. You’ll do that for me?"

"Hey darlin’ I’ll do anything you want. You’re paying."

He got her to stand behind the low couch and pushed her head down until she was bent over it, her ass in the air. He spread her legs apart and lifted her skirt over her head. He coated his cock with the tangy scented oil. Then, dripping some into the crack of her ass and, rubbing it between her cheeks, he stuck first one, and then two fingers into her ass until she squealed.

"More! More," she gasped.

He added another finger and started to finger fuck her as he reached around and began rubbing her clit with his other hand.

Her legs started to shake and she moaned, "Let me have it now, I can’t wait."

Keeping up the pressure on her clit he pulled his fingers out and with one move rammed his cock into her ass. She muffled a scream as he felt the tightness of her muscles grab at him. To stop himself coming too soon he looked around the room. There was a mirror above the fireplace, opposite the couch, and in it he could see the way her tits were hanging down over the back of the couch. They bounced around each time he thrust into her.

When he looked again, she was watching herself in the mirror too. He could see a smile of satisfaction on her face.

Damn, this was better than any whorehouse!

By the time he finished she was unconscious, sprawled over the back of the couch. Hell, he had that effect on women! Sometimes he was just too much for them.

Letting her roll onto the cushions, Harley then got dressed. Pulling some latex gloves from his pocket he searched the room, watching her but she showed no sign of waking. Not surprising. She must have drunk nearly half a bottle of scotch already.

Once he got out into the yard he climbed over the back fence to get the stuff from the car, making sure no one saw him leave the property. When he got back, he checked that Angela Walker was still out of it and went to explore at the rest of the house.

In the basement he discovered an old filing cabinet containing some household stuff which was just right for his purpose. Harley stashed the files – all marked 'Top Secret' he noticed – in one of the drawers. Harley flicked through some of them and the information they contained made pretty conclusive proof that Colonel Tom Walker was a traitor. Hell, there were even accounts showing how much he was paid each time he sold information. Harley shook his head; Walker was screwed for sure. The job was almost done – he just needed to take care of getting the FBI to the house.

When he got back upstairs, Angela was still out cold. Harley looked at his watch. It was nearly three o’clock and and the husband was usually back at six.

While she slept on he wiped over everything he might have touched in the room. Getting an old grocery sack from the kitchen he put his empty beer bottle into it. He checked that the unmarked .45 he'd brought from the car was loaded and hid it with the grocery sack.

He looked around; the back yard was even more of a mess than the front. But the pool was clean with hardly any leaves floating in it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair; at the same time he got a sniff of his armpit. Shit he needed a shower!

Walking back into the house he went over to the couch and slapped Angela roughly on the ass, she mumbled and finally stirred enough to be able to listen to him. "What?"

"You owe me some money. But I wondered how much more time we had until your husband gets home. Maybe we can have some more fun?" Harley sure as hell wasn't doing any manual labor, but if he was outside he was unlikely to leave any more prints.

"Tom won’t be back till much later." Her voice was slurred, "He usually gets home at six."

"That’s okay. Maybe we can take a swim later to cool off, before he gets home," he rubbed her ass, "Would you like that sweetstuff?"

"I’d like that."

Going outside, he took off his t-shirt, wet it with pool water and wiped his chest and underarms off . Then he stripped off and lay down on one of the loungers beside the pool. Now this was the life. Big house and a willing broad at the ready.

She came outside ten minutes later, wearing only a bikini and large pair of sunglasses. After spreading a large beach towel over a sun lounger, she sat down and openly admired him. Harley grinned back.

When she picked up a bottle of suntan lotion, he got an idea, "You want a hand with that, darlin’"

Angela tipped her sunglasses down and smiled seductively, "Please."

She lay face down and he unfastened the bikini top, pulling it away and dropping it next to the chair. After he had poured some of the sweet smelling lotion onto his hands he worked it into her back and neck, adding more lotion as he moved lower down. Once he’d finished the backs of her legs he said, "Turn over, I’ll do the rest."

Her eyes closed as he massaged the lotion into her tits and she moved her head from side to side when he started squeezing her nipples, working them until they were hard and erect. She really seemed to get off when he was rough with her.

She trembled when he caressed her stomach and he heard her moan with pleasure when he slipped a finger under the edge of her bikini bottoms, running along the line where her cunt hair began.

He put his hand further into her bikini and stroked her clit, working on getting her really hot. Just as she was about to come he pulled his hand away, turned around and ambled back over to the pool. He could hear her groan with frustration as bent down and washed the lotion off his hands.

Gasping, she sat up, "Why’d you stop?"

He smiled, "I wanted to make sure you were really hot – for later." He needed her so dizzy with booze and desire that she would follow anything he told her to do just to get him to slide his meat into her. Hell, if he kept her in a state of arousal long enough, she’d break her own neck to get her hands on his cock.

She looked like she might argue but then she stopped – probably thought he wouldn’t fuck her again if she made a fuss. Even so, very satisfied with himself, he could feel her eyes on him again when he went to lie down and soak up some more sun.

After maybe thirty minutes and she had been dozing on and off, he heard her glass hit the table.

"Would you like to have some food and something to drink?" she called out over her shoulder as she wobbled towards the house.

"Yeah, I’d like that."

A few minutes went by and she came out with the beer and a sandwich for him – and the usual glass of scotch for herself. She collapsed in the chair, spilling some of her drink.

She didn’t appear to be hungry – at least not for food. She kept running her fingers over the edge of her nipples and her bikini bottoms as though she was considering getting herself off.

He pulled the lounger closer to her chair, sat down on the edge of it and took a bite from the sandwich and chewed it for a moment.

"If you want to do yourself, I wouldn’t mind watching."

"I’d like that." At once her hand dived into her bikini and he could see the outline of her fingers as they danced under the cloth.

"Not like that." Holding his sandwich to the side, he moved forward and rested his hand on hers with just the spandex of the bikini between them, "Strip and spread your legs so that I can see it all."

She colored a bit, then picked up her glass and took another deep drink before trying to stand up. Finally she shrugged off the bikini bottom. Back down on the lounger, she spread her legs, letting them fall off the sides of the lounger.

He saw that her cunt hair was glistening with her juices, matching her skin, which was shiny with lotion. He was amazed how easy it was to get her to do anything he wanted, they taught him well in spy training. It was just too bad he didn’t know these sexual brainwashing techniques when he was in high school.

He ate the sandwich slowly, watching as she took an ice cube out of her glass and stroked herself with it. Before long she started sticking her own fingers into her cunt, making herself writhe and moan.

She came, crying out, just as he chewed the last bite of sandwich.

He waited until she could hear him. "I want to take a swim now, I’m too hot." That was the truth. He had a massive boner. Watching her had been very good.

He stood and dived into the pool and swam a couple of lengths enjoying the cool touch of water against his skin.

She watched him for a while and then walked unsteadily over to the wide stone steps into the shallow end of the pool. He got to his feet and waved her in. When she was in the water, he swam over to her, and stood, smoothing his hair down, letting the water sluice off his body. He knew he had her full attention, because she couldn’t take her eyes off him and her mouth was hanging open with desire.

Jesus she was a nympho!

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her roughly, feeling the hard points of her tits pressing into his chest. Getting her to brace herself against the side of the pool, he guided his cock into her and her legs encircled his hips.

She was so drunk she could barely hold on and he made sure they both came quickly.

Pulling out, he kissed her on the lips and held her tightly as they swam out into the middle of the pool. "I just wanted to say goodbye. You were a great lay."

It took a long time for his words to sink in, but then he could tell from her expression that she was getting angry. "What do you mean goodbye? I want you to come again tomorrow."

"Oh I’ll come again but not in the way you mean. Goodbye darlin’" With that he took one step away from her and punched out with his fist, catching her on the jaw. She was flung backwards and then floated, dazed on the water.

Feeling no emotion, he waded towards her and pushed her head under the surface. She remained still for a moment, then she started to struggle, but it wasn’t very much. Already, he was turning the events of the day into an outline that he would write in the report. He held her down until her feeble movements stopped and for a couple of minutes longer to be sure. Then he let her go.

Her body floated away – face down.

Pulling himself out of the pool he quickly dried himself with his still damp shirt and got dressed.

He checked his watch – five o’clock – just enough time to put on the gloves and take one more look in the house and check that he’d cleaned up properly.


When Colonel Tom Walker entered the house at six oh five and called out to his wife, Harley was once more wearing the latex gloves and in position, hidden, unmarked .45 at the ready and the large beach towel draped over his shoulder. Walker walked out into the yard and his eyes were immediately glued to the naked body of his wife at the bottom of the pool.

"Oh my God! Angela," he said in a hushed voice, as if all his energy had drained out of him.

It was obvious that he wasn’t aware of Harley until he felt the barrel of the gun pressed against his head. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Let’s move slowly over to the lounger, Walker."

"How do you know my name?" Walker’s voice sounded hollow and he looked confused, as if he had walked into a bad dream.

"I know all about you. I also know all about you selling secrets to the Russians."

Walker’s shock seemed to deepen. His voice was thick and slow when he spoke, "What? I would never betray my country."

For a moment Harley almost believed him, but his own shit detector kicked in. Walker was too convincing.

Walker’s voice broke, "Did you kill Angela?"

Harley nodded. "Yeah."

Tears flowed from Walker’s eyes, "Oh God. Did she suffer?"

"No. She was drunk. It was quick and easy. And I made sure she had a good time before I did it."

Suddenly, Walker pivoted and tried to land a blow at the side of Harley's head. Prepared, he'd expected the asshole to try something, he kicked Walker's feet out from under him. They landed at the edge of the pool and Harley used his full body weight to pin the man down. At once he threw the towel over Walker's head. With the gun pressed up hard against the Colonel's skull, he pulled trigger.

The side of Walker’s head exploded inside the towel in a spray of blood and brain matter. Wrapping his victim’s fingers around the grip of the gun, Harley then, without a backward glance, collected the grocery sack, climbed over the back fence and headed away from the Walker house.

Everything would point to a murder suicide, to the police and to anyone else who cared to investigate: Walker came home, saw his naked wife in the backyard, a fight about her being a slut ensued. Walker punched her and let her drown in the pool. Knowing that he’d never walk away from a second homicide, he blew his own brains out.

And the best part, because Walker had a high secruity clearance, the FBI would also do a look see, and then they’d just happen on the evidence that he was a traitor.


Harley was more than a block away before he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. He congratulated himself on another job well done.