. . ?" Then she looked to her side and screamed once more. "No!" she cried. "No!It can't be . . . !" Something big and black seized her and forced her...ontoher desk. With a twist of his head, the Hound (for that's what it was) strippedoff her blue mini. Then he forced his muzzle between her madly kicking legs.His jaws closed, and her scream now was much louder—full of hurt anddesolation, as well as fear. More screams could be heard in the studio. The camera began to lurch backand forth; then,. He looked very worried. Childlike in his worry. He took her right hand into both of his and squeezed. He could sense her fear. He had that fear in himself."Very bad, I'm afraid, my liebschen. The Commandant has labeled you a traitor..." He let the words just hang there, waiting for her response."Traitor? That's nonsense, Hans, I'm a loyal party woman, you know that. So, I played Devil's advocate with my odd views, but... "Hans shushed her. "Liebschen, we don't have much time. We must talk. More

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