“To be honest, sometimes it does—and painfully so. But what about you? How is life for you in your three-man dome with Major Boole and Father Bennett?"
“We're getting on like a house afire. Jim, Major Jim Boole has watched every single episode of M*A*S*H on video disc, and Father Bennett and I are helping him build an exact replica of Hawkeye's still."
Her jaw dropped. “I've heard.” The 12-hour days are grueling enough, but where on Earth did they manage to get the energy (let alone the parts and the mash) to build a still? “You're all getting your standard issue of Scotch and Bourbon and then some, so why build a still so you can shove rot gut through your livers?"
“Because we all have a collective hair up our ass to do it—like mountain climbing. You do it because it's there. Besides, it's fun, especially tinkering with it!"
She started serving the dinner. “Have you actually distilled anything yet?"
“Oh yes,” he replied as he poured the wine.
“So tell me about it!"
Anthony rolled his eyes a bit and finally said, “Well, you see it is more of a guy thing than anything else. We're not the kind of idiots who need to run out in the forest with tom toms. Nope, we're real men. We brew our own joy juice."
“And how do you drink this ‘joy juice,’ as you call it?"
He rubbed his chin and answered, “Slowly. You know, we just get enough out for three shots and then toss it back. After that, you just kind of look cool and collected while it eats away at your stomach lining. After you stop coughing, you say something macho, like ‘smooth, real smooth.’”
Tanya could see it in her mind and began laughing so hard that she fell out of her chair. As the tears streamed down her face, she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard. Normally, it would have been a humorous comment and nothing but that. Yet for some reason, it tripped loose a need in her to laugh with carefree abandon, which was only exacerbated by the completely baffled look on Anthony's face. As her sides began to ache, she held her hand to her chest and worked hard to slow her laughing.
Still baffled, Anthony got down on the floor beside her; “was it really that funny?” The question only got her going again and this time her laughter was infectious, and he, too began laughing uncontrollably.
After a few minutes, she put an arm on his shoulder and begged, “Please, Anthony, I can't take this any longer.” She took a few deep breaths and giggled. “You've got to help me stop laughing."
Without saying a word, he suddenly leaned over her and kissed her softly on the lips. “I've never heard you laugh before. I love the way you laugh, Tanya."
Her laughing stopped, but her chest continued to heave with deep breaths as she looked into his eyes with a beautiful radiance. He kissed her again, but this time, he pressed his lips firmly against her own, and after a moment, she pressed back.
The kiss grew with a hungry, spontaneous passion that swept away all rational thoughts and cares. It wasn't that she couldn't stop him. It was that she did not want to, and her magnificent sense of immersion into passion made her hunger even more for his lips, his smell and the gentle touch of his hands.
She drew herself to him, feeling her breasts pressed firmly against him and dimples formed on her skin as her nipples hardened.
“I've dreamed of this moment, Tanya,” he said with great longing in his voice. “To be with you. To hold you. To be one with you,” he whispered as his hand moved up along the side of her body till his fingers cupped themselves around the bottom of her breast.
Swept up in the intensity of his eyes, she drew a deep breath, closing her own eyes as he touched a part of her that made the world go away and leave them alone, to their sweet passion.
“Oh God, you feel so good” she whispered again and again. Moving his lips along her jaw line, he began to kiss her around the ear. She could feel his warm breath, and the sound of his heavy breathing excited her even more. It was as though he was carrying her away on a magic carpet made of soft, fleecy clouds filled with passion that she had not felt for a very long time.
Working his hand from her breast to the zipper that rested at the top of her jump suit, he gently pulled it down to her waist revealing her milky, white chest. She rubbed his chest with passionate strokes as he unsnapped her bra, pulling it away to reveal her shapely breasts and firm nipples.
He ran his hand down along the side of her pulsating body and began rubbing the inside of her thigh as he caressed her breasts with gentle kisses, slowly twirling his tongue around each nipple. With each caress, each stroke, time slowed until each new breath was an eternity of passion that reached down deep into every feminine niche of her body. Being with him made her feel alive in a most glorious way—a way that she'd almost forgotten. It was then, in that moment of ecstasy, the past came rushing back at her.
She fought it; even though her very essence as a woman was screaming out for him, it was in her mind that the battle was lost. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her dome as he continued to kiss her and fondle her breasts. It was as though the ceiling was pulling her away from him against her own wishes as the conflict within her began to swell from one level to the next until she could no longer control it. No matter how much she wanted Anthony, old emotions long suppressed and past their use made her feel as though she was cheating. The conflict within her pained her soul as it quenched her passion.
Anthony soon felt her breathing change and a strange new tenseness radiated throughout her body as she withdrew passionately from him. He could see that the moment had changed, accepted it graciously but sadly and laid his head on her breast in resignation.
“I won't stop you Anthony,” she said weakly. “No. I didn't mean to say it that way.” She wrapped her hands around his head in a tender embrace. “I meant to say that I do not want to stop you, because I've secretly wanted to be with you for a long time."
Anthony understood the conflict in the clearest sense. She was still grieving the loss of her husband and her family. “You'll know when the time is right. I want you to know that I understand. Henry was a good man, Tanya, and you still have to work your way through the past."
Her body spent with emotion and passion, she could only manage a soft reply, “You're a good man, too, Anthony,” she said as tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. “I'm so afraid that I've destroyed any chance of us having a relationship tonight and that you'll think I'll never be anything but a grieving widow. Trust me; that's not what I want. It's just that I can't help being so damn conflicted right now."
He reached up to the table and took hold of a napkin. With the tenderness of a mother holding her own infant, he began to dab the tears from her eyes. “Tanya, it is not about sex for me. This is not just some physical fling. For me, it is about being with you; I'll take every precious moment I can get, no matter how it comes, and I'll thank God for it. I just want to be near you and to know that you want the same."
She passed her fingers through his hair and kissed him gently on the lips. She could feel his hunger for her soul. “Be patient with me, Anthony. Let's just take it one step at a time.” He nodded his head in agreement; deeply relieved to hear that his most treasured hope for the future would eventually come to be, if only the universe would give them that chance.
They spent the next five or so minutes lying on the floor together as their breathing joined in a slowing rhythm. Speechless, they closed their eyes feeling each simultaneous chest rise and chest fall until their breathing was nearly normal. Eventually, Anthony propped himself up on one elbow, and gingerly refastened her bra and zipped her jumper.
“I think the wine has had plenty of time to breathe,” he said tenderly as he stood up and offered her his hand.
Taking it, she rose with his help. “Yes, but I think our dinner will need a little time in the microwave.” He nodded with a smiling approval.
After warming the meal in the microwave, they sat themselves again at the table and dined with good appetite as
they discussed their favorite movies and plays. She loved deeply complex European films, and he was an admirer of famous directors like Kubrick and Spielberg.
Following the dinner, he helped her clear the table and set the dishes in the sink. “Someone will take care of these in the morning,” she said politely.
Anthony picked up the dish scrubber. “Well, at least we can rinse them off so they won't be so hard to clean."
She reached over to take the dish scrubber from his hand and ran her finger alongside the edge of his hand. The simple touch sent a wave of fulfilling energy throughout her body, reassuring her that the evening had not been a romantic fluke. There was something between them, and she wanted more of it, once she had managed to deal with her own grief.
Rinsing the plate under the faucet she said, “Anthony, I didn't expect for us to get so close tonight, not that I'm not glad we did. However, I need to tell you something that is a little hard for me. It is about a mutual friend."
“Sure,” he replied hesitatingly.
“Today, I had a talk with Senator Connie Chavez's chief of staff over a secure link. He told me that she went in for exploratory surgery this morning, and the prognosis is terminal."
He gripped the counter. “Oh no, not Connie."
“She's got pancreatic cancer, and he asked if we could allow for you to go to her house in the Berkeley hills in a few days. Connie asked for you by name. If you're willing, she'll send a private helicopter for us when she's ready. In the meantime, we're not to tell anyone about this. Also, you're not to contact her. It's for your own good."
He rubbed his forehead. In the everyday world of bringing final comfort to strangers, he'd almost forgotten the pangs of personal loss. “If Connie wants it that way, then she's got a good reason. She always does. Let her chief of staff know that I'll be ready to do anything I can. Just let me know what to do."
“She'll be glad to hear that, Anthony. You know, she's always been on your side, even after you left her party. As a matter of fact, she is the one who arranged to have Professor Idan Goldberg and his team come here and document what we're doing, but also to keep you safe in the public eye."
His cocked an eyebrow. “Safe?"
“Yes, Anthony, and now I also know that you're in danger. I didn't know that until this morning, but I'm glad for it now. Do you realize what is happening on the web now with the footage Goldberg and his crew are shooting?"
“Actually, I've recently acquired a phobia of the media. You know me; keep it simple and stay focused. If I get distracted with other things going on in the world, I'm afraid I could make a terrible mistake, and that is something I cannot chance."
“I understand, so let me tell you what is happening. Every morning, Idan is uploading two hours of video to a satellite, and the BBC is running it unedited in every country around the world. In an odd, surreal sort of way, you've become the ultimate in reality television, and hundreds of millions of people around the globe are watching you each day. It is not what you're saying. It is what the world sees in the eyes and on the faces of the people you help across and what they hear them say. Thanks to Connie, it has become a wall between you and whoever it is that wants you to disappear."
She held out her hands and cradled his face. “At first I thought I hated you for what you do, but not any more. In this crazy hellhole of a place, each person you help over leaves this Earth with a look of acceptance, bliss and dignity upon his or her face. I don't know how you do it. Maybe some day you could tell me."
He cleared his throat and drained the rest of the wine in his glass. “Some things are best left unsaid. This will always be one of them."
“I understand, but I need for you to also understand that you are preciously amazing, and for the world, you have become the most beloved and tragic figure of our day."
“And what about you?"
“To me you're not a public figure. You're a swell guy who can be a little clumsy and hardheaded at times, but adorable to the core. Maybe things will work out for us romantically and maybe not. I certainly hope they do. But no matter what comes, I want you to know that I truly do care for you, and that I'll always be your friend, dearest Anthony."
He put his arms around her in a big hug and held her close. As she buried her head in the nap of his neck, she heard him whisper softly, “Thank you, God."
* * *
Allies Against Shiva
JEFFREY LEBLANC SEALED his private security dome and slipped on his VR gloves. Unlike the production models, his was the clunky looking prototype he'd used to develop his security patents. As with most inventive minds, it showed signs of tweaking and subtle modifications used to making it even more capable than the production models from which he derived a steady flow of handsome royalty payments. With a few quick flicks of his wrist, his HUD sparkled to life. As arranged, Pavel Sergeevich Lebedev also logged on using one of the security domes installed in the New Obninsk Centre in Russia. “Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Jeffrey teased. “And a well-fed-looking cat at that. Nice to see some meat on those skinny bones of yours Pavel."
“Your charm and grace never fail to amaze me, Jeffrey,” Pavel tossed back with a friendly smile. “So how goes things on your side of the world these days?"
“Can't complain. The money keeps rolling in, and I'm making good progress on my Andrea quasill, although we've just about outgrown the biomass computer IBM loaned me."
Pavel chuckled. “No doubt you're all over them like white on rice, as you like to say."
“You betcha, and I'll get a bigger box too. I just need to sway their tight-fisted notions of cooperation a bit."
“I'm glad I'm not working for IBM. So, has the Andrea quasill created a physical persona for itself?"
“Not yet, but I've got her watching old movies. Your ideas on that were right on the money, Pavel. You saved me a lot of grief, you know."
“And you have done the same for me many times, old friend, but I asked you for this meeting today for a different reason. One that troubles me greatly, I might add. It is about your sister, Roxanne and her son."
Jeffrey cocked an eyebrow. “You've got a lead on my nephew, Russell?"
“Unfortunately not. I got an inside tip from a friend of mine who works at our intelligence agency, the Federal Security Service. He tells me that they've tracked a lot of intel traffic on you and traced it back to Geneva and Houston. These people are good at what they do, and from what we see, they seem to be concerned about how you're pushing the investigation of your sister's death and the disappearance of your nephew."
“I've tracked a bit of it myself, but frankly, I haven't paid much attention. Just figured it was the IRS or something up till now. So, why is the Russian FSB interested in me?"
“They're not. I'm interested in you. One of these days, I'll finally talk you into working for me. Besides, I fear that you are making some very powerful people nervous. These people play for keeps, my friend. May I make a suggestion?"
“Shoot."
“You use that word too loosely, my friend, because that, I'm afraid, is what could happen to you unless you step back from pushing the investigation, which our sources tell us has been blocked anyway. Just leave it be for now. If you will let me, I'll be glad to help you anyway I can, provided you stop pushing things."
The revelation startled LeBlanc. Was it because he had funded the lion's share of the Holocaust Survivors Film Project in Los Gatos, now renamed the Nibiru Holocaust Project? When Senator Connie Chavez had first approached him about funding the project she had only known that he was a major contributor to the Progressive Libertarian Party. What she didn't know was that he had underwritten the project, not out of loyalty to his party, but because of his desire to help the natural father of his nephew.
Shortly after Russell's birth, Roxanne had secretly confided in him the identity of the boy's natural father but had forced him to take a solemn oath of silence. He had always regretted taking that oath, but his devotion to hi
s sister went beyond his sense of fairness. With her death, he wanted to do whatever he could, and through Senator Chavez's offer, he was able to help in some small measure. With all his wealth, the sum was a pittance in comparison to the guilt he felt, especially now that the boy had apparently been abducted.
His sister and her husband had been buried together, and on that day, he resolved to find Russell. Now, it seemed that he'd run afoul of a more sinister situation than he first imagined. He had come to trust Pavel and to know the man was shooting straight with him.
He sighed. “You really feel I'm going nowhere with pushing this investigation?"
“Yes, my friend. As I said, just let go of it for now, and let me see what we can find out. Whatever it is, I'll tell you just as soon as I know. I promise you. In the meantime, I assume you've employed your own private investigators."
“Of course."
“Pay them off, and tell them that you've given up. You might also want to give them a handsome bonus to make it look final. Also, keep a low profile on the Nibiru Holocaust Project. It seems to be getting a lot of attention from the same people."
“I know you wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't have good intelligence. Fine. I'll drop the whole matter and release my investigators. As to the Nibiru Holocaust Project, I've already set up a trust for it, so I'm really out of the picture now. I'll leave it to the trustees to manage and keep my nose out of it, for good measure, too."
Lebedev's face relaxed. “I'm glad to hear that, old friend. Just be patient."
“By the way, have you viewed any of the Nibiru Holocaust Project footage that's running on the BBC?"
“Who hasn't? The man has become a strange addiction here. Many members of my staff talk about it during their breaks and meals. As for me personally, I've watched it when I get a few free minutes here and there, but not as much as my staff members. I mostly watch the interviews with Jarman and his patients the night before he helps them cross over. Quite remarkable and I often wonder how it is the man has not lost his mind. I think I would if I were in his shoes."
Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru Page 35
