Edge of Tomorrow

by Wolf Wootan

  “It’s OK, Bill. You did what you had to do. I’ll call the nearest cops and have them come over here and take charge of this mess,” replied Sara.

  Gunny began tying up Koko.

  • • •

  In the Triple Eye chopper, Hatch and Syd were listening to the conversations between Sara and the Lexus team. They had watched the entire battle on Hatch’s monitor, which he had connected to Sara’s via satellite.

  Hatch commented with a sigh, “Those assholes would all be alive if they had done as they were told. Well, we tried.”

  He sighed as he looked out the window. He saw a spot in the sky which was growing larger as he watched. It was the SAS attack helicopter approaching them at top speed. He pointed, and Syd leaned over and saw it.

  He told Sara, “Sara, the Brits’ gunship is coming to check us out. Get out of there ASAP, just in case they decide to swing over that way.”

  “Roger, Hatch. The local cops are on the way—probably ten more minutes. It took me awhile to convince them I was for real. Bill doesn’t want to leave the woman alone down there with Koko and the stiffs. I’ll pick up your money and the rest of the team so we’ll be ready to go when Bill’s through down there.”

  “Ok, just stay sharp. Do you have these Brits on your radar?” asked Hatch.

  “Yes. They’re 100 yards behind you and closing.”

  “Thanks. Later.”

  The deadly-looking gunship closed on the Triple Eye chopper, and after assuring themselves that this was not their quarry, they moved off to continue their search.

  “I’m glad we beat them to the punch,” remarked Hatch to Syd. “I think we saved a lot of hostages’ lives today.”

  Syd looked at him and smiled. “I think so. Hatch, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, sweetheart. Shoot.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Sara and the colonel to just whack those guys? It would have been safer.”

  “I don’t like to give orders to kill people as the first option, even scumbag murderers like those pricks. I pay my people to do a job, not assassinate people. If the situation requires lethal action—as this one did—they make their own assessment and do what’s required,” he answered seriously. “You still trying to figure me out?”

  Syd took his hand between both of hers and smiled. “Maybe. But there’s no rush. We have a lifetime to explore each other.”

  Hatch moved his hand to the inside of her thigh and laughed, “I love exploring!”

  “Not now, Hatch! The pilot!”

  “I know! I know! Ah, before I forget it again, there’s something I meant to give you. I did more than arrange to buy you an engagement ring before we left Rome. I spoke to my lawyers in New York and arranged a couple of things that …”

  Syd interrupted, “Good! I meant to bring this up myself before we actually get married—the prenup, I mean.”

  Hatch frowned, “Prenup? I’m not talking about a prenup!”

  “We must have one! It’s your only protection against me really being a conniving, gold-digging bitch! I may be one, you know!”

  “It doesn’t matter to me if you are! I know you’re not, but if my love for you has blinded me to your sneaky conniving, then so be it!” chortled Hatch. “In case it’s only my money you’re after, I’ll save you the trouble of having to marry me.”

  “What in hell are you talking about!”

  He opened his briefcase and took out two pieces of paper and handed one to Syd.

  “This is a general Power of Attorney. It allows you to act on my behalf on any matter, financial or otherwise,” he explained.

  Syd took it and peered at it suspiciously, wondering what Hatch was up to this time.

  “What are you doing, Hatch? This is insane! Ah! I get it! I know so little about your affairs, I wouldn’t know how to use this thing anyway! Is that your message?”

  She was starting to get upset with him. She did not want to be discussing this subject with him. Maybe after they were married, but certainly not now!

  Ignoring the snit she was in, Hatch continued with a smile, “This is not a game, darling! After we’re married—I assume we still agree on doing that—if anything happened to me, my empire would go to you. I’ve decided I want protection in the interim, since we haven’t discussed a marriage date as yet. I’ve changed my will already; so if I die, everything goes to you, so if you are an evil gold digger, just whack me!”

  “Hatch, I don’t like this discussion! I’m just saying, you don’t need to do all of this! I’ve never been attracted to you for your money, and you know it! And stop talking about things happening to you!”

  “I know that, but you have to be interested now. It’s not just about money, Syd, it’s about unbelievable power; and I want it to go to you, not some faceless trust.”

  “You have family.”

  Hatch squeezed her inner thigh and said, “My family will be taken care of with plenty of money, but the power—the empire—goes to you!”

  “This is so overwhelming, Hatch! So commercial!”

  “That is a part of me you will have to become familiar with and hopefully accept. Since I don’t plan on leaving you right away, we’ll be in this together for quite awhile. A long while! In the meantime, keep this Power of Attorney with you, just in case. This paper,” he said as he handed her the second piece of paper, “has the name of the person who can guide you through the maze of my businesses if you ever need to use the Power of Attorney in my absence. His name is Martin Winsocki. He is President of Lincoln Industries, the holding company which owns all of my companies. Except for me, he is the one who knows the most about everything. I’ve faxed him a copy of this Power of Attorney and told him who you are. Never hesitate to call him if you need him. We need to do one other thing: get your voice print into the system so you can give orders over the phone. I’ll show you how to use the Blue Phone, too. It’s very powerful.”

  Syd squeezed her legs together on his hand and replied, “OK, enough of this morbid talk! Nothing is going to happen to either of us! If it makes you happy, I’ll put these in my purse, but I think a prenup makes more sense. But since I’m not after your money, thanks for believing in me! I love you!”

  He leaned over and kissed her gently, and she kissed him back. He whispered, “I love you, too! Thanks for humoring me. I feel better knowing you have these.”

  Syd slipped the papers into her purse, and they turned to the Blue Phone for her lesson in advanced communications.

  Sara’s voice on the speaker interrupted them. “OK, Hatch, we’ve picked up Bill, and the police have taken over the scene below. No Brits yet.”

  “Good work, Sara. Syd and I will see you guys back at the same spot where you picked up the money bag so I can put it back in the bank. That’s a lot of cash to be lying around.”

  “Roger. Why don’t you head back, and we’ll catch up. I want to monitor what the Greek cops do with the British gal and Koko. I never trust these guys,” replied Sara.

  “OK, see you there.”

  Hatch told the pilot to head back to the Athens Airport. Syd was still mulling over their discussion about money and power.

  • • •

  The President of the United States was in the Oval Office at 10:30 A.M. with his National Security Advisor, Elton Crenshaw, and the Secretary of State, T. James Washborn. They had been monitoring the situation in Athens. An American woman had been murdered by the highjackers of the Grand Princess, and it was possible that more would be killed. The President had not yet decided upon a course of action when he was informed that the situation was over.

  “So, the SAS took charge, eh?” he asked Washborn.

  “No, they arrived just after the mess was resolved. I got a somewhat sketchy rundown from our embassy people—and the CIA,” replied Washborn with a frown. “This entire incident was filmed by the media, of course, and the CIA just finished reviewing the films a few minutes ago, and more questions are raised than are answered. It reminds me o
f that Cuba airline incident. Anyway, at about 5:30 P.M. their time, there was a big puff of smoke not far from their black chopper. Then they were seen loading two canvas bags into the chopper. They took a female hostage with them and left.”

  “I thought you said things were resolved,” grumbled the President.

  “There’s more. Even more confusing. At around 6 o’clock Greek time, a woman called the police in a small village and told them where to find the hostage, the ship’s money, and the highjackers. They found them all right! All the crooks were dead except the leader, who was trussed up like a turkey. There was only one bag of money, but they think it contains all the money and jewelry taken from the ship. They’re taking an inventory now to make sure.”

  “The hostage?” mused the President.

  “She’s fine. Roughed up a little and nearly raped, but she said she was saved by some commandos with eerie helmets and face shields,” continued Washborn.

  The NSA asked, “Were they SAS?”

  “No. They hadn’t arrived yet. No one knows who they were, or how they got there, or how they left.”

  The President thought immediately of Bob. This entire caper was so impossible to figure out, it had Bob’s stamp on it.

  How does he manage to be in Cuba, or Athens, when something is happening? And how does he do the things he does?

  The President finally said, “OK, get me a detailed report. On my desk by Monday morning. It sounds as if we don’t need to get involved now.”

  Chapter 31

  Il Castello di Bragno, Italy

  Sunday, August 19, 2001

  8:00 A.M.

  Syd awoke lying on her back and stretched her hands over her head and smiled. She glanced to her left and saw Hatch asleep on his left side, his back to her. They were both naked, since they had both fallen asleep immediately after their “nightcap.” They had arrived at the castle late last night and had gone straight to Hatch’s quarters, had sex in the shower, and then had fallen into bed exhausted.

  They had not seen anyone last night, so Syd looked forward to showing off her ring and breaking the news—especially to Sara, who would be the only one who understood how this could have happened so quickly. She held up her left hand and looked at her ring—not just because it was so gorgeous, but because of what it represented. She still couldn’t believe that this entire fairy tale was real! She knew she had to come down to earth soon, and think through the problems marriage would bring to her life. Whatever they were, she would face them and solve them. She would not lose this happiness for anything!

  And I need to call Karen, too, and let her know! But none of that today! Today is relax and enjoy! Bask in my own glow!

  She got up and used the bathroom, then started the coffee maker they had put in the room. She wandered back to the bedroom and climbed back into bed, plumped her pillows and, with her hands behind her head, stared at the ceiling.

  I wonder if Hatch wants children. Surely he does! I certainly do! My biological clock is ticking, so we should have them while I still can. I wonder what religion he is. Will he go along with a church wedding? If so, which church? Shit! I have a lot of things to discuss with him—find out about him! What do I do about my teaching career? Hmm. How many women will hate me when he marries me?

  “Good morning, lovely one,” Hatch said, interrupting her day dreaming. “What’s with the frown?”

  “I didn’t realize I was frowning. I was just thinking about the future, and about all your women who are going to hate me when we get married,” she laughed.

  Syd’s position on the bed had pulled her breasts high on her chest and they pointed straight at the ancient ceiling. Hatch was distracted by them and did not really hear her response.

  “What? I’m sorry, dear, but I was ogling your stunning twins. You said something about women? I’ve got all the woman I need right here!” he leered as he ran a hand over her left breast.

  Syd ignored his advances and went on, “For example, what are you going to tell your nympho Austrian countess? How did you get … acquainted with a countess?”

  “So, you want to hear about all my past conquests?” he chuckled.

  “Heavens no! Then I’d have to bore you with all of mine! I was just wondering about her,” replied Syd as she covered the hand on her breast with her own.

  “Why don’t I tell you about the stewardess in Miami instead. The countess story is complicated.”

  “No, I want to hear about the countess! The more complicated the better. I need to learn more about your life.”

  “Well, all right. Her name is Elizabeth von Braten, and I’ve known her since 1983.”

  “That long? How old is she?” asked Syd.

  “Well, let’s see. She was 18 when I met her. That would make her around 36 or 37 now, I guess,” he replied, switching breasts. He had both nipples at attention now.

  “You’ve been screwing her since she was a teeny-bopper?” asked Syd in amazement.

  “Hush! Do you want to hear the story or not?”

  “OK, OK! Go on, you lecher!”

  “Fine! The year 1983 was a critical one for me. You may not believe this, but I had a big ego back then—don’t say a word! I thought I was the numero uno assassin in the universe! This was probably a carry over from being a fighter pilot—you have to believe you’re the best if you’re going to survive all the chaos going on around you. Anyway, I decided I should be the best killer in every possible way—with any weapon, any situation.”

  Syd moved his left hand off her breast and down to her crotch and pushed it between her legs onto her sweet spot. “I had some similar feelings, but had to concentrate on less than I wanted to because of lack of time. My cover as a professor took a lot of my time.”

  “Well, I took it to the extreme. I practiced not only the pistol, rifle, hand-to-hand, and knife, I also added the bow and arrow, crossbow, administering of various poisons, and swords of assorted types. I wanted to be the best in any situation,” said Hatch as he massaged her crotch. “I had done some fencing in college, but I wanted to train with the best, so I would sneak into Vienna a couple of times a month and train with the great Fencing Master, Baron Hans von Hochsburg. I took saber lessons from him—still do—because the techniques were closer to the real world sword, the rapier. He also gave me some practice with the rapier itself. I occasionally take a foil or epee lesson, but I concentrate on the things that make me a good rapier fencer.”

  “So you’re good with swords, too, eh? I would have thought you would have been a football player in college, not a fencer.”

  “I had a hard time back then relating to team sports. I was very intolerant of people who weren’t up to the skill level I expected. Plus, I spent a lot of time in the drama thing, developing my music and acting. There are just so many hours in a day,” he answered. Then he added, “I have a rapier here ready for you right now! And if I’m not mistaken, I feel a scabbard here that it will fit in nicely!”

  “Not yet, dear! I’m not quite ready. Just keep doing what you’re doing for a moment longer. Tell me more about how you met the countess,” cooed Syd as she humped his hand.

  “Well, while I was in Vienna in March 1983, I made a near fatal mistake. I had gone there to have my usual fencing lessons. I traveled as a German aristocrat, because, as you know, Austria was occupied by the USSR in those days, and Germans could travel there more easily than most.

  “I was also in Vienna for another reason. Count Karl von Braten was in the employ of the CIA—maybe MI-6, too—and I volunteered to pick up his reports while I was there. As an aside, you might be interested in the fact that his marriage to Elizabeth von Oertzen in 1982 was an arranged one, which is not unusual with royalty. Both he and Elizabeth were descended from royal blood lines—he from von Hapsburg, she from von Oertzen. She was 17 and he was 37 at the time of the marriage, and they hardly knew each other,” Hatch narrated.

  “So she’s married?” asked Syd, who had assumed she was single.

>   “Of course. That’s how you become a countess—you marry a count,” he shrugged with a wicked smile.

  “Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” she said.

  “Before you reply with a scathing riposte, let me explain the inner-workings of royalty to you. They are so obsessed with maintaining and melding bloodlines that their behavior sometimes appears strange to outsiders. The count and Elizabeth had one son together—to carry on the melded bloodlines—but he continued to keep his stable of mistresses, and essentially ignored Elizabeth’s needs. The rules allowed her to have affairs of her own as long as she was discreet and didn’t get pregnant.”

  Syd turned her head and looked at Hatch. “How utterly ridiculous! How can people live like that? That’s immoral!”

  “Royals are a strange bunch, as we’ve seen in the Monterra situation. Anyway, back to March 1983. I was running late for my fencing appointment, but I had to pick up the count’s report at our usual drop point. My usual procedure was to check the area out carefully, then watch for awhile. I fucked up in my haste. As I approached the drop, two guys approached me—it turned out they were KGB—and attempted to detain me for questioning. Since I hadn’t picked up the documents yet, I could have bluffed my way out of it eventually, but it pissed me off, so I shot them and retrieved the count’s report. That’s when a third KGB agent appeared without warning and shot me in the stomach. I killed him, then got away from there and called the count. I was in bad shape when his men got to me and took me to the count’s palace. He had summoned a friendly doctor who fixed me up as best he could, but as is possible with stomach wounds, I got an infection.”

  Syd interrupted him. “So, that’s the scar on your stomach?”

  “Yes.”

  “Poor baby! What happened next?”

  “They pumped me up with antibiotics, but I got a bad fever. The count was hiding me in one of the unused bedrooms in his palace. The only heat in the room was a fireplace. There was still snow on the ground that March, so I was freezing to death, what with the fever and the cold room. I didn’t know it until later—I was passed out for three days—but Elizabeth got naked and climbed into bed with me to keep me warm. It must have worked, because, with the help of the drugs and her warmth, the fever broke three days later—and as you can see, I survived.”