"My pleasure."
"Shall we go over to my place?"
"No doubt we should."
"I want to do a lot of nice things with you tonight," she smiled moving her tongue along her lower lip, clearly indicating what she meant.
"What's in store for me? Can I have some details now?" I teased her.
"No," she smiled. "You'll see, I mean feel, in due course."
"Can't wait!"
I called the waiter and paid the bill.
The car was parked only a short walk from the restaurant. It was warm, but a light rain had just started falling. We were walking slowly towards the car chatting.
Suddenly we heard cries and a commotion. I looked that way and saw that an elderly lady was being mugged by a thug. He punched her so hard that she collapsed on the sidewalk. He grabbed her hand bag, and started running in a direction that would cross our path. In a split second, I dashed forward after him.
He saw me, pulled out a knife, and tried to stab me. Jane uttered a cry of despair. I easily dodged the knife and punched him in the nose from below with the back of my closed fist. I didn't have to use a very strong punch, but believe me, it was very painful for him. He stopped, stupefied, released the knife, and his hands instinctively reached for his nose. He was done. A kick on the sternum to bend him forward and then another at the back of his knees to bring him down was sufficient. I didn't have to use anything more sophisticated on top of what I did in casual fights during my university years. The guy was down, I asked a passer-by to call the police, checked on Jane, recovered the stolen handbag, asked another passer-by to watch the thief on the ground, and went to check if the elderly lady was okay. Somebody had helped her to get back on her feet, but it seemed her eyesight wasn't great as she must have mistaken me for the thug and wanted to pummel me with her umbrella. With all due respect, an elderly lady wasn't a match for my street fighting skills, so I just grabbed the umbrella and said, laughing: "Jesus, I just saved your purse and you’re trying to kill me with your umbrella? That's gratitude."
I handed her the handbag. She seemed to realize I actually had helped her and muttered “Oh, thank you.” I presumed she was still confused and shocked at what had just happened. Anyway, it’s hard to be a hero these days, I thought to myself.
I didn't want to be involved any further, especially with the police, so I asked two more strong young guys to keep an eye on the thief until the police arrived, and we walked away towards the car. They tried to stop me and persuade me to wait for the police to arrive, but once I’d looked them sternly in the eye, and having witnessed how I pacified the thug, they rightly concluded they should not interfere with my business. So off to the car we went. After a few steps I turned my head and saw that the old lady-victim was very determined to administer justice immediately. Two or three guys were keeping the perpetrator on the ground and the old lady was smashing his head with her umbrella. I was sure he’d survive.
"Mike, you were very brave today. I was so scared," Jane commented on the situation.
"That's nothing, it was just a petty thief. He didn't even have a gun."
"But if he had a gun you couldn't have stopped him?"
"I could, if he had his gun in a pocket, or jacket. He would have been on the floor before he could draw the gun."
"But he did draw a knife."
"A knife is easy, I didn't have to hurry. If he had a gun, I would have to be much quicker knocking him down, but that wouldn't have been difficult either, unless he was professionally trained military or agent. But he clearly wasn’t’."
"And if he was already holding a gun?"
"Then I would have to assess all the circumstances and possible consequences. It happens in a split second, but it’s hard to tell what would have happened if there’d been a completely different scenario."
"It was very brave and noble to help that old lady anyway."
"Thanks, but the old lady didn't seem too happy at first."
"She must have been shocked or something. I'm sure she'll appreciate your heroic feat in time."
"She did say thank you eventually. Not sure she fully understood all what happened. Anyway, I'll remain just a quiet, unnamed hero. Tough luck."
"Don't worry, I'll reward you with interest," Jane kissed me.
We drove to Jane's house and it really was a very rewarding night. Jane wasn't very experienced, but utterly natural. Hookers were pros, their job was to satisfy the client. For that they had to put on a show with the proper choreography and sound effects, if you could call it that. But for them it wasn’t pleasure, just business. With Jane, without any fake special effects, it was pleasure for both sides, Jane and me. And it wasn't fake, it was all natural. Jane wasn't a twenty-year-old girl anymore, so even though she wasn't very experienced in that area, she knew her stuff well enough to have fun with a man.
After this long bout of passionate sex, we were lying quietly side by side. I was looking at her brunette hair, somewhat disheveled now, unlike what you would see in a movie where the makeup and hair are immaculate after sex. Then I gazed into her beautiful brown eyes and felt she desired for another round.
"Give me a breather and we can do it again," I said and kissed her on the cheek.
"Take your time. As long as you wish, the night is long, we have plenty of time," she drew closer and put her arm around my chest and leaned her head on my shoulder.
A few moments passed and we made love again. It was even better than before. Jane liked experimenting, not in a vulgar or dirty way, but she just liked to try a fresh approach. Routine and monotony were not her things. This was one of the nicest days of my life.
32.
I WOKE UP late the next day. It was already around eight thirty.
Jane was lying beside me with her back to me. I could see her outline through the sheets. Her hips were particularly prominently displayed and seemed to demand: “Take me now.” I jumped at the cue and we had the best morning sex I’d had for a long time. There was nothing better than a long night's sleep and sexual intimacy in the morning when the testosterone was at its highest. It was nearly primal, your hormones taking over to the extent that you could barely control yourself.
"You're insatiable," Jane said, "but I like it," she added smiling.
"It was really great, we must repeat it someday. I like being close to you," I whispered into her ear.
"You're welcome here whenever you have time," she whispered back.
My phone rang. It was Martin.
"Hi Martin, it’d better be important, I'm kind of busy right now. Did you find anything about Harker?"
"Hi Mike, yes, quite a lot in fact. Do you want it now, or are you coming back anytime soon?"
"I'll be back in the office early afternoon, you can give me the details then. In the meantime, can you send me a summary to my cellphone and keep searching?" I asked. I must add that our phones, tablets, and other portable devices were equipped with military-grade encryption, courtesy of Dermot Clenaghan from Research & Execution. I was not a big fan of all these modern gadgets, but what could you do? They did save our time and made our life easier, no doubt about it, if you could say my line of business was easy at all. I was surely the least tech savvy member of my team. I only really used a phone. Apart from a laptop, phone was the most sophisticated gadget I felt comfortable with. I made a mental not I would have to work on it in the near future. But for now I had competent associated to were taking care of all things technology for me.
"My flight is at 1.30. It's actually quite late, is there a jet available for a return leg – can you check with Dermot?"
"Sure."
"Thanks." I finished the call.
A few minutes later Martin confirmed a jet would be waiting for me at 11 o’clock at Pittsburgh Airport. A CIA agent was returning to Philly and I could join. Dermot apparently said he knew the agent well, and added she had one of the best asses in the whole CIA. He said to warn me that Special Agent Kathryn Jenkins preferred girls so
I needn't bother chatting her up.
Jane was in the bathroom so I had to wait before I could freshen up.
While she was having a shower and applying tons of lubricants, gels, powders, creams, lotions, sprays, oils, fragrances, conditioners, perfumes, deodorants, mascaras, lipsticks, shades, and other stuff, I started preparing breakfast. I found some eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and chives in the fridge, so I fried the bacon with the chives, separately scrambled a few eggs in a bowl adding finely chopped tomatoes, and poured the contents into a frying pan. It was my signature dish, a bit boring at times, but it was the easiest and healthiest breakfast to prepare with limited time and limited fridge content. And I was very proud of my skills, even these were limited to scrambled eggs and a few other simple dishes. For that morning breakfast, just to avoid routine and vary it slightly, I covered the whole concoction with a lid and left it for a few minutes on medium-smallish heat. The result was something vaguely resembling soufflé, but technically somewhere in the middle between fried egg and scrambled egg. I sliced some brown bread and poured orange juice mixed with water into two glasses.
Jane finished her shower surprisingly quickly. It may have been the smell of breakfast cooking that brought her swiftly to the kitchen.
"Lovely, you’re a really good cook, you know that?" she said tasting the dish.
"Not really, this one’s pretty simple, it’s just a variation on scrambled eggs, or fried eggs if you’re in a fried egg mood today," I smiled, happy with the praise no doubt. “It doesn’t have a name, at least none that I know of.”
"It's quite good nonetheless, I'm sure you can cook many other things, can’t you?"
"I can, but don't overestimate my skills, just a few selected simple dishes, nothing fancy," I laughed. "I like cooking, and when I prepare meals, I put my heart into it. It's really relaxing, it lets you forget about all the worries of the daily grind." I made a mental note to expand the range of dishes I could do. I hoped I would find some time to do that in the future.
"I like cooking too, but I treat it more like a survival related activity – I have to eat, so I cook. But I do admit I prefer the food I make myself than takeaway fast food."
We finished breakfast and had some coffee. I took a quick shower, dressed, and hurried to the airport. A Citation jet was waiting for me.
On board the plane, I opened the summary dossier on Philip Harker, Lena Ivanova's boyfriend, which Martin had sent me. Dermot was right in saying Special Agent Kathryn Jenkins’ buttocks were first class. Her breasts, even though not very large, were neatly but tightly packed in her blouse, emphasizing the charm of her personality. However, as I was already in a relationship, and Agent Jenkins was gay, I poured myself some whiskey and exchanged a few casual words with her just to satisfy the social norms of good manners, and started reading. I didn't feel any urge for conversation, being content with occasional glances at her breasts and buttocks when she happened to get up from her seat, just trying to politely acknowledge this beautiful sight without being too obtrusive.
I started reading about Harker. It was highly interesting and I thought Martin had found what I needed. I had another generous glass of whiskey and continued browsing the dossier until the plane landed back in Philadelphia, and Special Agent Jenkins disembarked with a vigorous sway of her ass. And breasts no doubt, but I couldn't see them as I was walking behind her inspecting the curves of her buttocks, along with both the pilots and ground crew, who in a more or less disguised manner had their eyes glued to her ass and tits.
Back in the office, I went straight to Martin.
"So it seems this guy is no saint, by any means," I said to Martin.
"Definitely not, it wasn't easy to get the information, as the security system on his computer was quite good, but our guys with help of Dermot's geeks did manage to break in," Martin explained.
"He's quite a sexual character. You wrote in his resume that his energy is spent on two favorite pastimes: Running a pedophile ring and raping animals?"
"Yes, he’s not only running pedophile ring, but also, which was not in the file you got as we hadn't found that out yet, raping and beating up underage girls, anything from eight to 14-year-olds as far as we could gather from his emails and video footage. Animals are just an extra."
"So you have video material to back it up?"
"Yes, quite extensive, we’ve already copied it onto our servers, just in case."
"Bastard, anything else?"
"We’ve checked some of the names of the raped girls in government databases using Dermot's access."
"And?"
"And at least four of them went missing right before the moment in time the video footage was taken."
"You're joking!"
"I'm not joking. What's more, he was stupid enough to use real names to name his video files. He had good encryption and security software, so he probably felt safe. But it was no match for our technology."
"So there’s quite strong evidence there."
"Yes, it also seems he wasn't always working alone, as there were a few names in the emails that popped up frequently. They were probably members of the pedophile ring. We don't know if it was an organized ring, or just an ad-hoc assembly. We need to do some further digging to establish all the details."
"Sure, work on it."
"It’ll take a while as there's a lot of stuff there, and the videos are quite gruesome. He's a nasty brutal bastard."
"And what about the animals?"
"It's just the icing on the cake I suppose. He was less careful there, as he organized numerous orgies with up to 10 people involved, mostly men. We've found lots of good quality videos with that. The script was usually unchanged for each performance – first various dildos are used to penetrate the animals’ vaginas, often brutally, and afterwards all the guests rape the animal or animals in succession. Some with condoms, some without, depending on individual preferences. Horrible to watch. But that’s not all."
"What else is he doing?"
"After each orgy, the animals are slaughtered. Usually by cutting their throats, and then ripping open their bellies so that their entrails spill out. That was gruesome. Occasionally, he cut off a limb while the creature was still alive, or he poured acid onto the animal before killing it. Gore," Martin explained.
"Not a person you'd like your daughter to be dating. I think Mr. Ivanov will be very happy to get rid of this guy."
"Sure he will."
"And what animals were these guys raping and torturing?"
"A variety, mainly medium to large dogs, sheep, monkeys. They used a variety of venues, and the animals were chained up in most cases. I believe the animals may have been drugged slightly as well."
"Anything else interesting?"
"Just as a curiosity, he ... writes poetry about his sexual experiences."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. They’re short, three-line poems, I believe they’re called Haikus. Here's an example:
'The night's getting dark
Little girl hugs her teddy
There's no rest tonight'
"I don't read poetry or know anything about it, but it doesn't seem to be anything high flying. Funny guy,” I said.
"It's not Shakespeare, that’s for sure."
"Have you checked his whereabouts?"
"Yeah, we know where his home is. We’ve already checked the security there. He's not stupid and has a security package from a professional company including intrusion detection, perimeter alarms, day and night infrared cameras, and some other gadgets on top of that. He takes his security seriously," Martin provided some more details and added, "I would take my security seriously if I had hobbies like his and I was recording them. It's suicide if you're not extra careful."
"How do we go about it?"
"Our guys with the help of Research & Execution resources can take over the whole security system within a few hours," Martin said. "It’s very sophisticated, but not bespoke, so there won't be any surprises."
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"Good, will you be ready for tonight?"
"Should be."
"What's his daily routine? Does he come back home every night?"
"We didn't have time for that kind of surveillance. But we planted a tracking device on his car. He was at home overnight, but moving about town during the day."
"Okay, let's be ready for tonight. His home should be a convenient location for us. As long as we take over his security systems, there’ll be no witnesses, better than in a public place, although that wouldn't be too difficult either."
"Let me know when he's back," I ordered. "Where's Maya?"
"She's probably in the ladies room checking her makeup for the fifth time since breakfast."
"You're too harsh Martin, it's already afternoon. Lipstick can wash off if you have a coffee and cake," I laughed.
"Maya doesn't eat cakes. You know that."
"Yeah, I know, she doesn't eat crap," I said knowingly. "But I'm actually hungry, I'll get one for myself from the kitchen."
I went to the kitchen and I got some coffee and a wholegrain fruit scone. Maya followed me in shortly afterwards.
"Martin said you were looking for me," she asked.
"Yeah, we'll be busy this evening."
"You might be busy with yourself. I might be busy with myself, if I want. I doubt if we’ll be busy together. You're not entirely my type."
"Jeez, that's not what I meant. There's a job on this evening."
She was joking of course.
"Now you're talking. Details?" she asked.
I briefed her on Philip Harker and she liked the brief a lot.
"That should be fun. Let's get this fricking creep," Maya was always business minded.
"We'll wait until he's back at his house, Martin has put surveillance on him," I added.
I went to my office to finish my coffee and cake. I powered on the computer and checked my emails. Nothing of interest, mainly spam advertising penis enlargement pills – 100% effective, 100% safe. I wondered if those claims where anyhow scientifically substantiated. Yeah. How did they get my email address? I wondered. I must ask my computer geeks on the team someday.
The Hunt (Mike Greystone, Book 1) Page 17
