by Robert Graf
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. "I am so happy to see you I could burst," she murmured into his chest.
He stroked her hair. "I thought of you every day, wondering why you didn't call."
She kissed him again. "If I had called I wouldn't have been able to work. I'd have come back here." She pulled back. "Do you have a last name or are you in the witness protection program?"
He laughed. "I guess I never did say. It's Baxter, and I'm not on any wanted posters. I smell like a locker room."
She grinned. "Want someone to scrub your back?"
He grinned back. "Best offer I've had in weeks."
"Oh? What was the last one?" she teased, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off to toss on the bed. She stretched her arms out. "Well?"
He stared into her eyes and unbuttoned her shirt. She held his gaze, unsnapped her bra and dropped it.
He cupped her breasts and kissed her. "You're beautiful."
She tugged at his pants button and pulled down the zipper. "Can't shower in these, and no boots." In the bathroom she stripped and stepped into the shower. She had adjusted the water to her liking when Alex pulled the curtain aside and stepped in.
His pale chest was a sharp contrast with the dark tan face and hands. His erection pressed into her belly, and she stroked it with one hand while pulling him against her with the other. The water made their bodies slippery, and she rubbed her breasts against him.
He groaned, and she giggled. "Turn around."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and gripped her buttocks, pulling her tighter. "I don't want to."
She laughed. "Patience," she teased, kissing his nipples. Hers were already erect.
He turned around and she rubbed his back with the soap, paying special attention to his cute butt. She soaped down his legs but couldn't bend her knees without pain so moved back up between his legs, stroking his erection and balls. She turned her back. "Rinse off, then do me."
He started with her neck, moved down her back, and then lathered her butt. He moved down her legs and back up, concentrating on the insides. His hands were strong and sure, and when he slipped a finger into her she melted.
She felt him reach around her to lather her breasts and her stomach and her mons, where he spent several delicious minutes. She'd died and gone to heaven; she felt wonderful.
"Let me rinse off."
He kissed her neck, stepped out, and she followed. He wrapped her in the large bath towel and rubbed her dry, very gently, starting with her head and ending at her feet.
"Jesus, Ann. Your knees. That's the most hideous combination of purple and yellow I've ever seen."
She'd be damned if that was going to spoil a beautiful evening. "They're much better." She began to dry him off, starting with his back before moving to his front. She gently squeezed his erection before moving on. She started to kneel to get his lower legs, but her knees hurt too much. Her hair was too wet, and she impatiently just ruffled it with the towel.
Ann grasped his hand, tugging him after her to the bed. She turned, kissed him and pulled him to her. They tumbled onto the bed and made slow, languid love. To her delight he proved to be an attentive lover. She only had to move, and he sensed what she wanted and complied. She in turn stroked his body with her hands and mouth until he climaxed in sync with her shuddering orgasm. They lay intertwined, slick with sweat, breathing hard. He started to lift off her, but she kept her arms wrapped around him. "Stay in me," she whispered. She held him for a long while before drifting off to sleep.
A sharp knocking awoke her. She raised her head to see Alex, swathed in a white robe, accept a pizza box from an unseen delivery person.
"Food, I forgot all about it," she said, sitting up and stretching. She felt rejuvenated, her whole body relaxed with that boneless languor that only glorious sex could produce; even her knees felt better. She grinned at Alex.
"If you don't put some clothes on, the pizza will get cold."
Her stomach growled in answer. She got out of bed, and slipped on a robe robe hanging near the bathroom. "Spoil sport."
"I need to keep my strength up," he said, leering.
She laughed. "I won't dignify that with an answer. What's to drink?"
"It so happens I brought a bottle of Zinfandel."
They sat at the small table, eating the barely warm, pepperoni pizza, and sipping wine.
I'm happy for the first time in weeks, she marveled, and it's not just sex. She studied Alex as he ate the last slice.
"Is something the matter with your eye?"
He emptied his glass. "You noticed? Once upon a time when I was young and foolish, I ran afoul of the law. The judge said 'A year in jail or the Army', so off I went to war. I got wounded and lost the vision in my right eye. I've learned to live with it, though sometimes it's difficult." He grinned. "I still appreciate a beautiful woman."
She didn’t press him for details. Both her father and uncle had fought in Vietnam, but they had never discussed the experience with her. The one time she'd asked, her father got a haunted expression and refused. Alex must have been in that mess in the Middle East when she was in school.
She stood, pulled him out of his chair and held him. "I'm so very glad you did survive." She untied their belts and hugged his warm body. "Time for dessert."
[Friday, Feb 1, Yreka]
Movement awoke Ann from a deep slumber. Soft lips brushed her neck, and she stretched, savoring the feel of the warm body next to her.
"I've got to leave. There's a crew waiting for me."
"What's the time?" she mumbled, without opening her eyes.
"Five."
"Do you have to?"
She could feel his nod. "Yes, Ann."
She wrapped her arms and legs around him. "A little late won't matter."
He kissed her. "You're a vixen, but I have to go," he said untangling her limbs. He terned on the bedside lamp, swung his legs to the floor and stood.
She squinted against the glare, watching him dress. "I love your bod, especially that cute butt."
"Flattery will get you everywhere." He gave her a long kiss. "When can we meet again?"
Cold reality threatened her languorous mood. "I don't know." She so wanted to confess everything, yet it wouldn't be fair to him. "Alex, I have big-time problems at work I have to resolve, some beyond my control. I will see you again, I promise."
He smiled. "Nothing will keep me away." He left her staring at the shut door.
On the long boring drive from Yreka down I-5, she pondered what to tell Alex, but couldn’t decide. At last she pulled up to her garage door, tired and glad to be home. She triggered the remote to open the door and waited impatiently while Doug checked the house. She’d argued before leaving Yreka, but he’d been adamant, reminding her of Philomath.
“All clear, Dr. Grey."
“Thank you, Doug.” She waved as he drove away, then closed the garage door.
She hadn't been gone long enough for the house to collect that long-abandoned smell. Thank whatever, she'd remembered to call from Yreka to have the power and gas restored. She adjusted the thermostat and was rewarded by a muffled 'wump' as the furnace ignited. It wouldn't be too long until she could shed her jacket. The water heater was another matter. Add to that, no food. She didn't want to go out so a pizza sounded good enough, and there were a couple beers in the fridge. Tomorrow she'd get the house in order.
[Friday, San Francisco]
Ian stood at parade rest facing CEO Roger Hooper, his expression impassive. The cold, furious stare didn't intimidate Ian, he'd faced worse. Roger wants to play tyrant, does he, well let him have his fun. Behind the seated CEO, through the floor-to-ceiling window, he could see the Bay Bridge and soaring gulls, and for once no fog.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you."
Ian expected to be fired and in a way welcomed the prospect. "That's up to you. I acted in what I felt were the best interests of the corporation." Not your power-h
ungry ambition.
"I decide what Global’s best interests are," Hooper snarled.
Ian didn’t reply; he hadn't been asked a question.
"What I do with you will have to wait. We have a more pressing issue. The FBI wants to interview you, the Greys, the engineer and the techs. I agreed, what choice did I have? But there will be a corporate lawyer present. I don't want there to be any mention of the Greys' discovery."
Ian mentally shrugged. He'd hoped for more time. "I have no problem about not volunteering anything; if asked, I will answer. You don't lie to the FBI. But how would they know to ask?"
Hooper's expression turned feral. "Exactly. They wanted to start Saturday, but I got a delay 'till Monday. During that time I'll be in Oregon. Meanwhile you'll start thorough background checks on the engineering VP, the engineer, the Greys and the techs. Hire outside help if necessary. I suspect a competitor is trying to ruin me and the corporation."
Paranoid for sure, but not crazy. "It's possible. Do you have any intel I don't know about?"
Hooper shook his head. "No, though British SatCom comes to mind."
"The FBI will be doing the same. I don’t want to cross them."
"So what? It's only natural we do internal investigating, it might seem odd if we didn't."
"Why do you need to go to Oregon? There's someone up there snooping about, and your presence is an unacceptable risk. I recommend against it."
"I'm taking my guards since you're finished with them. I want to ask that prototype some questions."
"I intend to hire an executive protection firm for the Greys. Other than your guards we have no one with the proper training. The lab's destruction and the Oregon experience shows they're in real danger."
"They're no longer critical, so no."
Cold-blooded bastard. The notion of Hooper using Ann's machine chilled him. What if he checked on Ann or his own activities? "I'll go to the Board."
"And tell them what? Assuming they would even see you." Hooper shook his head. "No, Ian, we'll do this my way."
"You don't know how to work the machine."
Hooper smiled, not with his eyes. "But I do; Dr. Grey demonstrated the basic rules. It's straightforward."
Ian sighed in resignation. "When are you leaving?"
"We'll fly up in the morning. I should be finished in a day."
"Right. See you in a couple days." He turned to go.
Hooper's voice followed him out the door. "Yes, you will."
[Saturday, Petaluma]
Brother Isaac stopped his rental in front of the destroyed lab. Yellow police tape hung across the driveway. A Petaluma black-and-white was parked just inside the entrance; a dark blue SUV sat next to a broken wall. Two men in dark overalls were poking around the burnt-out shell of the building.
He lowered his window and stared. The news photos didn't do the destruction justice. It couldn't convey the rank, wet ash smell wafting across the parking lot. Why hadn't Ann told him? When he'd stumbled across the article while hunting for the lab's location, his heart nearly stopped.
The article identified two bodies recovered from the wreckage as Global Communication employees. The early morning timing argued for guards, not techs. The chilling part was the authorities considered it deliberate. Who could do such a thing and why?
He winced, remembering the cavalier advice he'd given Ann when she first called. What did he say? "You've a right to be concerned." He hadn't listened, caught up in the discovery. Someone had reacted swiftly with deadly violence.
"I'll have to ask you to move along, sir," a woman announced. Startled , he glanced to his left. A uniformed police woman stood watching him.
"Sorry, officer. I was just looking."
She didn't smile. "Yes, sir, you'll have to move on."
"Right." He put the car in gear, checked his mirrors, and accelerated away from the lab. He needed to talk to Ann. Cardinal Balsamo had given him her address, but he couldn’t just show up. What would he say? She'd made it clear that getting access to the EntCom was impossible. Regardless, he had to try. Anyway, it was a pleasant change from the micro-managed Vatican.
He checked his tablet for directions to the Petaluma Inn. Traffic was much lighter, the drivers more respectful than the insane drivers in Rome, and he had no trouble finding it. A large swimming pool occupied one corner of the grounds, not that he’d be using it.
After checking in he carried his bag up to his second-floor room. It had been a long flight to San Francisco followed by the drive to Petaluma. He was tired, and his stomach rumbled. First, call Ann, but not from the motel phone.
[Saturday, San Francisco]
Ian’s tablet showed 19:15. He stood and stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his lower back. After a day’s research on security firms he’d hired Pinkerton Services to do a thorough background check on all involved. He’d set the number one priority to be finances. If any competitors were sniffing around the EntComs, a money trail had to exist. He included the Greys to satisfy Roger, though that was a waste of money.
He glanced out the window at the skyscrapers in the gathering dusk. He preferred Roger’s view of the Bay Bridge only without the responsibilities that came with it. His one concession to vanity was the digital picture frame displaying his favorite bird photos. He had it set to one picture every hour; the current photo showed a bald eagle perched in a dead tree with Mt Shasta in the background. Amazing. After near extinction they were now off the endangered species list.
His phone’s insistent buzz interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?"
Allan’s face popped up, his black complexion looking gray. “Hooper and Doug have been shot, and the prototype is gone. It was a professional smash-and-grab. The dogs are dead. Doug put up a fight. They're in the hospital, and the local cops are all over the place. It's a mess."
Oh, fuck! Ian sank into his chair, stunned. "You alright?"
"Yes. I was at the inn getting dinner."
Must have been watching from the woods. Allan should have been there. Hooper’s doing? Recriminations can wait. "What's their condition?"
"Don't know. I applied first aid before the ambulance took them. Doug's vest saved him, but his leg and arm are bad. Hooper was shot in the chest. It doesn't look good. The front door is smashed in, so's the gate."
Damn Hooper to hell. "Did they say anything?"
"No. Both were unconscious. I barely slowed the bleeding. Hold on..."
He heard mumbling in the background, then a middle-aged woman’s angry face appeared. Piercing gray eyes stared out at him.
"I’m Sheriff Sims,” she began in an angry voice. “Your man has informed you of your employees’ condition. I'd appreciate you coming up here to help me understand what's going on. When my office agreed to an occasional check on your facility you made no mention of a serious risk." Her tone hardened. "You owe me a thorough explanation."
He blushed. "Yes, Sheriff, I'll fly up in the morning. One of the victims is my boss, the President and CEO of Global Communication, Roger Hooper." He hesitated. "Be advised the FBI is investigating a similar incident here."
Her mouth snapped shut.
"Sheriff?"
Her voice could have cut steel. "And you didn't inform me?"
"I apologize; I was ordered to keep quiet." Not any more, laddie.
"In the morning, Mr. MacDougal. Here's your man."
"What do you want me to do?" asked Allan.
"The Sheriff can handle the lab. You go to hospital and keep me informed. I'll be up in the morning."
"Yes, sir."
The connection closed. Now, what's the procedure in this case? Inform the next in line. Who was that? What about the Board? No, he didn't want to explain to them. He brought up the organization chart on his tablet. Roger as CEO and President was at the top, under him was the CFO, followed by VP of Sales, Marketing, Finance, and Engineering. Why no COO? He’d never asked. Using his clearance code he found the CFO's private number and plugged it into his phone ap
p.
"Connected", "Ringing" appeared in the window. "Who is this?" No visual.
Annoyed, are we? "Mr. Patel, this is Ian MacDougal, head of security. President Hooper has been injured and is in an Oregon hospital. I'm informing you as next in the chain of command."
Silence.
"Mr. Patel?"
A round, brown, smooth skinned face appeared. Hard black eyes bored into Ian’s. "Shit! I heard you. What's he doing in Oregon? What happened?"
Let's not cause a panic. "I don't know. He and his guard were in some sort of accident. I'm flying up in the morning and will inform you once I learn more."
"He didn't contact you?"
"No, sir. The Benton County Sheriff's Office did."
"Who else have you told?"
Power games? "You're the first."
"Tell no one else. When you learn more, inform me first."
"Yes, sir."
Ian killed the app and stared out his window at the brightly lit skyscrapers. Who did it? Not the Church. Swales' people? Maybe. The unknowns who destroyed Ann’s lab? Maybe.
OK, Ian, what are you going to do about it? The reality is there's nothing you can do, not by yourself; he needed to inform the FBI. What about NASA? No one's going to sneak up on them. First he had to warn Ann. How could he protect her? What a cock-up.
[Saturday, Petaluma]
Ann had slept late, then housework and shopping had taken up the rest of the day. She sipped her tea; what to make for dinner? Cooking wasn't her thing, yet she couldn’t stomach another pizza. Her phone chirped. Uh oh, probably Hooper telling her she was fired. Should she ignore it? She picked it up; no visual. She tapped Talk. "Yes?"
"Hello, Ann, it's Isaac. I'm at the Petaluma Inn."
Shit. She'd forgotten. She didn't want to deal with him, even though it was her fault he was here. "Hello, Isaac. How was the trip?"
He sounded tired. "Long and boring. I know this is short notice, but I haven't eaten and wondered if you'd have a quick meal with me. I'm buying."
