#
Peacock held onto Arthur’s arm as the two were escorted into a large lecture hall. Her husband would speak on Helping People Help Themselves – The Financial Resolution of World Conflict. The King of England would have blushed at the reception given for Arthur Pendleton.
With her frame pulled up and her shoulders back, she glided beside Arthur, keeping her focus on the crowd around them. Her training would allow her to spot anyone who looked suspicious. She recognized Pendleton’s bodyguards—and hers. She recognized at least five members of the W.F.C. whom she’d met in Germany.
Wait! The faces of two men standing in the shadow of a column resembled too closely the men guarding the door at the Bristol Hotel where Lytle’s goons had attacked her.
Her antennas shot back up—protect and defend. She and her people must be wary.
Amid her second glass of Champaign, Milton Rogers came alongside her. Pendleton was talking to Pepperdine’s Chancellor a few steps to her right. Rogers leaned close. “I believe in you, Laverna. That’s why I’m warning you. A serious leak of information gave Arthur and our allies a setback toward achieving our ultimate goal.”
She tilted her head and stooped slightly. “Go on.”
“There are those who distrust you my dear. They may have talked to Arthur. Be careful.”
Rogers gave her a wink and limped away. But the wink didn’t ease her mind. Who hired the people who killed Valleria? Who attempted to kill her at the Bristol Hotel? Whom did Lytle work for? She’d smelled him at Reed’s. Did Pendleton know about Lytle? Was Pendleton setting her up?
She slipped away for a moment and walked up to one of the Herculeans in the crowd. “Watch the two men by the column.” She pointed and then swept her away back to her husband.
#
Boring!
Peacock glanced at her watch. Fifty minutes had passed since her husband took the podium. Had the subject been anything but the world economy, he might have held her interest. But he was preaching about improving the lives of people in emerging nations. She couldn’t give a hoot about emerging nations.
She busied herself trying to figure out where the suspicious men had gone and where her people were. Even her husband’s bodyguards and vanished. She should think out of sight out of mind. But her training wouldn’t allow room for that type of thinking.
Applause brought her to her feet. The regents awarded Pendleton an honorary Doctorate in Finance. The Banking Institute of America gave him their Man-of-the-Year Award, and the festivities ended.
“Now we have a week to ourselves,” he said, as he joined her at the foot of the stage. “Tomorrow morning we can head straight up Route 1. We’ll spend a night in San Luis Obispo and then head up to Tassajara to the hot springs.”
“It’s closed this time of year.”
“Not for us.”
She squeezed is hand, half out of love and half from the mounting pressure that something was very wrong.
“After a night there, it’s off to the Calistoga Ranch for Napa Valley fun. Then we’ll swing back to Route 5 and head back down to L.A. This will be jolly fun.”
“Where are your bodyguards?”
While Pendleton looked around, she dialed her team leader. No answer.
“I don’t see them,” he answered. “But don’t worry.”
“Get your team leader on the line.”
He tried. Same result.
“Trust me. We need to run. Now!”
“But Lovey, there’s no need to panic.”
She grabbed his arm and headed off in a direction that avoided the crowd. Out a side door, into a hallway, and out a less obvious exit, they went. He seemed intent on proving her wrong and redialed, again no luck.
“Where are we heading?” he asked, stumbling along with his mouth agape.
She remained silent. Her heart said trust him. Her training said, “Don’t trust your heart.”
She dashed across a street and around a corner. There sat her Aero. “Get in.”
“Lovey, I don’t see any danger.”
Her cell vibrated. “Yes?”
“Don’t go back to the hotel.” The voice was Ursa’s. “Take your car and leave now. Contact me when you’re safe.”
“What’s happened?”
“Pendleton’s people are dead. Three of our men are as well. There’s a third enemy here, and at least two of them are coming after you.”
“How do you know?”
“One of our people is still alive and called me.”
Peacock hung up. “Get in the car, Arthur. Your bodyguards have been murdered.”
“What?”
He opened the car door as a bullet ricocheted off the windshield. He stared at the glass. “Not a knick,” he said. “Reed was right. You’re a Herculean.”
Peacock didn’t have time to explain things to him. She reached behind his ear and cut off the blood flow to his brain. He slumped over.
“Sorry, Darling, I’ll confess later.”
Out of the lot Peacock’s Aero flew. She was on Malibu Canyon Road in seconds. She floored the accelerator as she turned right onto Route 1. A car was behind her. The Saab from the night before fired machine gun bullets from its front undercarriage. Her tires were vulnerable. She hit 120 miles an hour and let an oil slick down on the pavement. The Saab hit the slick and the last thing she heard as she rounded a bend was the screeching of brakes, an impact, and an explosion.
She didn’t look back.
Her husband moaned. Peacock reached for the ether in her purse, but never managed to retrieve it. A car pulled out of a side road and sideswiped her. There was no time to brake. “Shit!”
The impact threw airbags, netting, and foam around her and Pendleton. Her stomach felt the nausea of flight. She managed to push the chute flap on the floor down. No noticeable change. The Aero’s undercarriage slammed the ground jarring her sideways against her side airbags. Three rolling bounces caused her to swallow stomach acid. There was the sound of gurgling and steam. All motion ceased.
Chapter 32
“Arthur, are you all right?”
Peacock managed to open the purse still in her hand. She found her knife and slit the netting and airbag material off her. She couldn’t open her door and wasn’t making much progress getting out.
“Stupid,” she said, pressed the carriage hood release, and the top of the car flew off, landing over forty feet away. Peacock climbed out of the car and swung her holstered gun across her shoulder. She strapped on the weapons’ pack she’d stowed under the driver’s seat and crouched down behind the car.
A lighthouse far to her north provided some illumination. The moon was full, but low on the horizon. Where did the other car land? She didn’t see it. Her car had come to rest on the beach, front tires buried in sand. Tall grasses covered the steep slope up to the road. She estimated it was well over a hundred feet uphill. No one would find them in the dark.
“What the bloody hell happened?” Pendleton whispered now fully awake.
“Shh, someone is out there intent on killing one of us—or both.” She trudged and tripped until she made it to his side of the car. “Are you hurt?”
“I broke my right foot. I think?”
He tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. Peacock slashed it loose and lifted him out of the car.
“Are you going to kill me?” Pendleton looked up at her, red-eyed and shaken.
“If I were going to kill you, you’d be dead. You’re my husband. Whoever’s out there is the one you should be afraid of.”
Peacock put her finger to her lips and whispered. “Stay here.”
“Fat chance of doing anything else with my foot swelling.”
She reached into her pack and handed him a pen. “Press the clicker and you’ll shoot your attacker. But the jar will dislocate some fingers, so use it as a last resort.”
“My God, my wife’s a bloody James Bond.”
Off she went. The terrain varied—sand, rocks, mud. She grabbed her knife
and cut her lavender gown off above her knees. She climbed up several yards to a point where she could make out objects along the beach. Nothing was big enough to be her enemy’s car.
A sound from her training froze her in place. When wind rustles the grass, the rhythm of its swaying ebbs and flows with the current. This was the tune of a person walking.
She squatted and peered out toward the direction of the sound. It was Lytle! Bloody, clothes shredded, his arms were outstretched and his hands held a gun. But Peacock saw her prey first. He was good as dead.
Lytle had his left side toward her. She picked up a stone and tossed it to his right and uphill. When he swung away from her, she flew out of her crouch and in three steps leaped upon him. The two rolled downhill. She landed atop Lytle right at Pendleton’s feet as he sat on the ground next to her car.
“Arthur, she’s the traitor.”
“Who are you?” Pendleton asked.
“A partner of Reed’s.”
Peacock had her knife at Lytle’s throat. “You’re not working for Reed tonight. You’re working for someone else. Who?”
Lytle said nothing.
Pendleton put both hands over his eyes and rocked in silence.
Peacock slammed Lytle’s head four times against the ground. “Who sent you after us?”
His eyes said she had his attention. His mouth said, “I’ll not tell you a thing.”
“You little weasel. Your people killed Vallonia thinking she was me. You ran like a rat when I killed the last of your team at the Bristol. Don’t try to play me now.”
She grabbed his throat and squeezed until he gasped, “All right. All right.”
“Wait.” Pendleton stared at Peacock. “Lovey, if this is Lytle, he does work for Reed.”
“Not tonight. Now let me do my job.” She pushed the knife against Lytle’s neck. “Who?”
“Claymore.”
Pendleton tried to stand, but let out a yelp and collapsed. “Claymore’s trying to kill me?”
“She’s after me, Darling, not you. Your team was collateral damage.” Peacock reached into her pack, took a small syringe, and jammed it into Lytle’s shoulder. “This is for Valleria and Daphne you scum.”
His eyes rolled back and he died.
She pushed Lytle’s body down onto the beach and turned to Pendleton. “We need to talk.”
#
“You’re blooming right we need to talk.”
His Lovey was a Herculean. No doubt about that now. He reached for his wallet and his cell phone. Both were still in place. “How did you . . .”
“Knock you out?” She chuckled. “The maneuver is standard in training. I didn’t have time to argue with you. I was busy keeping us from being killed.”
“All right,” he said. “I need answers you have. I can’t walk, so I guess we have all night to discuss our dirty little secrets.”
He hoped she hadn’t seen his finger press a button on his cell as he moved his hand away.
“Here are the facts,” Peacock said. “Falling for each other wasn’t in my plan. There wasn’t supposed to be an ‘us.’”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That I love you. Yes, as much as I’m capable. You’d be dead otherwise.”
The puzzle pieces came together.
“You’re the woman Lytle’s team captured, the one who got away.”
“Yes.”
“You never went to Leeds. You went to Reed’s house.”
“Yes.”
“The information you got from me in Germany led you to him.”
“Yes, and with what we uncovered at Reed’s, we foiled the plan to kill President Monroe.” She gently touched his hand. Her flesh felt seductive and alluring despite their situation. “No two people in history were more suited for each other my love. I only wish we agreed on the issues.”
“You said, ‘As much as I’m capable of loving.’ What did you mean?”
The moment he asked that question, he realized her love was more important than her betrayal.
“It’s too long a story. I’d bore you.”
“No. I need to know. Please tell me.”
She rubbed her chin and flopped down next to him. “Okay. But after I’m done answering questions, I’m going to interrogate you.”
“Tit for tat, hey. Agreed.”
His heart raced from the adrenalin rushing through him. He’d seen his wife perform her skills with cunning and ease. If sex with her were possible here and now, he’d have a go and not worry about her being a Herculean. But the pain in his foot and the grit of the sand prevented such action.
She rubbed her hands together and bowed her head. “I’m incapable of love. At least not in the way storybooks describe it.”
“How so?”
“I should have died over nine years ago in a car crash.”
No expression showed on her face. Given what she was telling him, the pain she’d experienced must have been overwhelming.
“Eighteen people were incinerated on that highway. Everyone died but me. I was left with no family and no explanation.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Killing Lytle was business. I have no remorse. That’s why Hercules picked me.”
He couldn’t possibly understand her pain. His family members were loving, stouthearted people. “You never recovered from the trauma?”
“I never allowed myself to. To recover diminishes their deaths.”
“How do you really feel about me, Lovey?”
“Warm. That’s as far as I go.”
“Warm? Like when a cat rubs your leg? I need you to describe warm.”
“How about I describe me?” She turned fully toward him, then leaned down and examined his foot. “Your foot is a little swollen. If it’s broken it’s a hairline fracture.”
She looked up into his eyes and smiled. “It’s not that I can’t feel things. I have happy moments and sad ones. But personal relationships are different. Getting too close to someone freaks me out.”
She flailed her arms and then tossed sand in the air like Ash Wednesday ashes.
“I’m a damn genius. I have an I.Q. over 150. But I view everything and everybody as part of my assignment. If they turn bad, or I’m ordered to, I can kill them without . . .” She paused. “I was about to misspeak. Some people I kill with compassion and minimum pain. Others, like Martin, I kill slowly.”
“So he’s dead then?”
“Yes.”
Arthur’s mouth dried. “Do you have any water?”
“I’ll get us some.”
She moved to the back of the car leaving her gun and her pack within his reach. He couldn’t kill her. She meant far too much to him. He’d die for her. He’d give up everything but the cause for her.
She returned with two bottles of purified water, and he drank.
“You’re different,” she said. “You’re everything I’m not. You’re committed to your values. I’m committed to the patriotism of my parents and the values of my boss. You believe in God. Although, you break His commandments with your the ends justify the means thing. I’m angry with Him, if there is a Him. He killed my parents and my brother.”
“Not true. God allowed them to die. He didn’t kill them.”
“Whatever.”
“Go on.”
“This is what I believe,” she gulped. Her jaw quivered. “If I admit I love you, you’ll die. Everyone I love dies.”
She reached out and stroked his face again.
She does love me.
“I made a promise,” she said. “I will defend the interest of the United States and its president against all odds. Politically, you are my worst enemy. Emotionally, you are the core of my being and my soul. What are we going to do?”
“Before you interrogate me, answer one more question. How do you communicate with Hercules?”
“I have an implant behind my ear,” she said and brushed her hair back revealing a tiny line. “Until Reed’s house blew to bits,
a Herculean’s voice instructed me.”
“The blast disabled it?”
“Something did. It will be replaced in a week.”
We have a dilemma indeed, he thought. He was at a bloody loss as to how to move forward. He desired her too much to lose her. He desired a one-world government too much to give up that dream.
“Give me some time to think this out.”
#
The moon had cleared the Pacific horizon and Peacock could see the top of the ridge. She estimated they’d tumbled over several large boulders after the impact with Lytle. “God, they built my Aero like a racecar, maybe better.”
Her cell phone buzzed. “Yes?”
“I said, ‘Contact me when you’re safe.’” Ursa’s voice bellowed.
“Sorry,” she said. “Lytle and his men are dead.”
“And Pendleton?”
“We’re having a little talk.”
“Hum.”
She didn’t like the ‘Hum.’ Ursa sounded distrustful.
“We have a team coming. I’d say we’ll be there in an hour. How much cleanup is necessary?”
“A car went over the side near Yerba Buena Road, two occupants. Lytle’s car and my Aero went off the road about a quarter of a mile farther on. You’ll have to clean up Lytle’s body.”
“See you soon.” Ursa ended the call with no friendly goodbye.
“I didn’t realize how capable you are until now.” Pendleton pulled himself up to where he could stretch his legs out straight. “We need to figure out how to stay together even though we work for different sides. Right now, from the sound of that conversation, your side isn’t happy with you.”
“I’ll handle it.” She had less than an hour to work out things. “It’s my turn to ask the questions. Who are the Sons of Tiw?”
“They’re a group of former intelligence agents from Britain, Russia, and various European countries led by me and Thomas Reed.”
“And?”
“They share the same vision I do. Basically, they do the dirty work I can’t from my position. They are my MI6 and your CIA”
“I prefer to think of them as the antithesis of Hercules.”
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