The Satan Bug By Alistair MacLean

“Spine-chilling, throat clutching!” Books and Bookmen

The General handed me the phone. “It’s for you. Won’t give his name.”
The words came over the wire in a deep, dark, throaty whisper: “If you want to see the little lady alive again, lay off.”
My heart did a somersault and landed on its back with a thud. I said “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I mean the beautiful Mrs. Cavell. I have her. She would like to speak to you.” A moment’s silence, then — “Pierre? Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry —”
Her voice broke off abruptly in a gasp followed by a scream of agony. Silence. Again the dark whisper. “Lay off, Cavell”, and the click of a replaced receiver…