by Randy Dutton
Anna eventually brought the discussion back to learning about MacKenzie, a girl she only knew through the mention of a similar tragedy and of Pete’s stories. At one point, she leaned forward, cocked her head, and looked into his eyes as if searching for something. “Pete, did Mac go to church?”
He nodded. “Every Sunday.”
“How about...after?” Her bright eyes were still searching.
“She stopped for a few weeks, but with encouragement from us, realized she needed God’s comfort even more afterward.”
“Does she still go?” she asked softly.
“Yes, and teaches Sunday school. She also helps out occasionally...at a local rape crisis center.”
Anna leaned back and nodded slightly. “I’d like to meet her someday.”
“I’d like that as well. You two would hit it off.” Pete’s hopes rose higher.
Anna knew a bond had been formed with Mac, if only one-sided. She wondered, Is it possible for two people to share a guardian angel?
As the mid-afternoon sunbeam caught Pete’s eye, he glanced at his watch, sighed, then sadly smiled. “Anna, I’ve lost all sense of time talking with you.” He hadn’t even realized that at some point his right hand had sought out her left on the table and her hand had willingly accepted it. “It’s 4 PM, and I’ve—”
“Pete, I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun.”Anna was sitting back in a chair with her feet up on another, her eyes were on geraniums cascading from one of the balconies.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to make arrangements to go home...I’ve...really enjoyed—”
She demurely interrupted him again. “You could go…tomorrow.” Her inviting eyes shifted to his, then widened slightly. Her full lips slightly parted in a broad smile.
His heart leapt with joy.
Suddenly, in his nervousness, he stood, walked to her side, kneeled down, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.
Their kiss unleashed a torrent of passion, till now restrained.
She stood, pulling him to his feet. Their embrace continued as she clung to him, her arms tight around his neck, her head on his shoulder.
Unclasping her hands, they slid down his muscular back to his trim waist and narrow hips. Then her hand took his and led him upstairs and into her bedroom.
Soon after, a scuffling of feet came up the hall, and Styx took up his guard position outside her bedroom door.
Chapter 40
July 7, 0400 hours
Anna’s Villa, Côte d'Azur, France
They lay entwined in bed. Both were spent from the passions of the previous several hours. It was early dawn, and the glimmer of light tipped the queen palm trees on the edge of the back garden.
With her eyes closed and her spirit in a blissful state, her mind wandered.
I feel content for the first time in years. Robert may have great skill in the bedroom, but he’s always had that cool detachment.... Probably thinks the same about me. It’s different with Pete, though his greater enthusiasm made up for slightly less skill. With him I feel connected. Is this what life’s really supposed to be like? Her arm tightened around Pete’s chest.
She picked her head up off his chest, stretched her neck and kissed him. “Can you take a shower with that prosthetic leg?”
He brushed hair out of her eyes. “Yes. Will you join me?”
“That’s my plan.” She smiled cheerfully.
An hour later they were on her balcony overlooking the sea. She was in an aquamarine silk robe, and he wore a larger robe of thick white toweling that she had provided. They were sitting on a cushioned teak sofa, Anna’s legs across his lap, her left arm around his neck, with her head resting on his shoulder. Pete nuzzled the top of her head, taking in the scent of her hair.
His emotions were in overdrive. I’m deliriously happy, and simultaneously anxious. Doubts started to swell inside him. What if this is just a fling for her? She’s told me very little about herself and what she does. What if she’s playing me?
“Pete, what’s wrong?” she asked without lifting her head.
“What gives you the—”
“I can tell,” she pulled away a little, turned her head and looked at him.
“Is this real?” he asked nervously.
She laughed. “Is that what’s bothering you? You have abandonment issues?”
His expression showed hurt.
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him passionately. A moment later she put her head back against his chest and sighed contentedly. “Pete, I don’t know where this is going, but it is real. And by your racing heartbeat”—she chuckled—“I can tell you think so too…either that or you’re about to jump up and dash out.”
Pete knew then he was in love.
They were on the deck having breakfast and he was in another perfectly fitting outfit she had provided.
Her wavy hair, parted just right of center, was in a loose French braid. She was glowing – her eyes were wide, her upturned smile was broad, and she emanated happiness.
Pete couldn’t take his eyes off her. I hope her outward display is because of me. But she’s also very quiet.
“Pete, don’t take this wrong,”—she interrupted his introspection—“but I’ve got work to do that will occupy most of my time over the next month.”
His heart raced. “I understand. Can you tell me about it?”
“Sorry...no.” Her smile diminished.
His eyes narrowed. “Is this connected to the UN Conference in the Maldives?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”
Peering into her eyes, he reached for and took her hand. “I’m afraid of losing you.”
She gave a slight exhalation. “You won’t lose me Pete…unless you cast me away.”
His eyes widened, but his body was tense. “You know I won’t do that. But it’s the things you do that worry me. And I don’t even know what they are, except what you did in the Maldives, and what I imagine.”
“Pete…how can I say this delicately?” She bit her lower lip. “If the wrong people hear about what I do...then you will lose me—”
“But, you said—” His mouth hung open.
“No, I mean, they will kill me.” She leaned forward, her eyes were round as she stared into his, and her smile was gone. “I’m involved in...things I can’t tell you about. I wish I could. I want to share the burden, but that would place a huge one on you.”
“Which I can handle—” He was adamant.
“No you can’t, Darling...I mean...” She reached out and cupped his hands in hers, leaned forward, then slowed the pace of her words. “It would place you, and possibly your family, at risk by forces greater than anything you can imagine. And through your stories, I feel connected to your family. I want them safe.... I promised you I would help protect them.... And when you get home, please tell your dad…I’m truly sorry for what I put him through.”
“Why not come with me and tell him yourself?” He begged.
“Maybe...someday,” Her eyes were warm and soft.
“Today.... Fly to Dallas with me!”
She shook her head and lowered her eyes. “I can’t. You don’t really know me or what I do. Hardly anyone does.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I’m good at what I do.... Very good.”
Grimacing, she added, “At the same time, I’m not sure you would like me if you really knew what I’ve done and what remains for me to do.”
Her smile widened and she pressed her hands tighter against his. “Sure, you’re in love with me”—she let out a small sigh—“but liking somebody is different. That takes respect and maybe I can earn it.”
“Quit! Give it up. Come with me.”
Her head dropped a little, she breathed in deeply then slowly let it out. A slight smile formed. “Yesterday with you changed some things for me. I shared myself in a way I never knew was possible – not for me, anyway. I wish I could just walk away, but I’m in too deep right now. Give me some time and I pro
mise, we’ll be together again, soon.”
“What would it take to extricate yourself from whatever you’re involved in?” His eyes were wide with worry.
Her shoulders shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I’ll call you—”
“No! You won’t!” she cut him off urgently. It was a command, not a lament.
“Pete, please understand,” she pleaded. “You can’t exist in my life right now. It would endanger us both.” Her hands moved his up and down, trying to make her point. “You mustn’t try contacting me, not by email, by telephone, by letter, or by messenger.”
“But—”
“If you trust me...then let me come to you...when it’s time. Will you do that…for us?”
He paused, then reluctantly said, “Yes.”
“I need to get you to your flight,” she said sadly.
There was no sightseeing this time, no diversions, no unemotional getaway. To retrieve his luggage, she drove him to his rental car, and followed him to the hotel he had checked into three days earlier.
Minutes later he followed Anna to Nice International Airport. Upon turning in his rental car, he quickly rushed to the parking lot to rejoin her. For 15 minutes they kissed goodbye in the Alfa – few words were spoken.
Once again Pete tried talking her into coming with him, and again she refused. Both had regret in their eyes, but time had run out.
With his suitcase in hand, he took one last wistful look at her. Anna lovingly said, Jusqu’á ce que nous retrouverons, mon amour.
His brow furrowed.
With a smile she repeated it softly in English, “Until we meet again, my love.”
With regret, he turned toward the terminal.
Sitting on the Alfa’s hood, watching him pass through the terminal door, her jaws clenched into a tight smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. What rotten timing to fall in love.
Anna sat at her patio table. Pete’s picture had lain in front of her for the past two hours. Gazing longingly at it, she periodically leafed through his file to glean aspects of his life he hadn’t yet revealed. She committed to memory a few favorite individual and family photos.
She contemplated the ways he would alter her life. I find your life rather pedestrian and yet somehow exciting. What is it about you, Pete Heyward, that makes me yearn to be with you? Is it your normalcy?
She shook her head. What is normal like? Could I give all this up? She looked back at her villa from her deck.
Would Swanson allow me to quit? She exhaled deeply. Not very likely. How would he respond if I asked? No, I think I know how that would turn out. Jared would influence the outcome. It might not happen immediately, but a week, a month on the outside. He would have someone do exactly as I have done.
She clasped her hands in front of her, and rested her chin on her thumbs, and winced at the possibilities. An accident? Something more violent? Would I be lulled into a trap?
Her eyes widened. God, what if he decided to interrogate me? There’s so much I’ve kept secret. Swanson wouldn’t do it himself, of course…he’d have one of Jared’s goons do it...or Jared himself. Hell, Swanson might even visit and feign fatherly sympathy. But the torture could go on for weeks.
A shiver ran through her at the thought. I couldn’t…no, I won’t allow that. Dying is preferable to that.
If I were to bug out of here, what would become of Styx and Perses?
Maulana, vacuuming the entryway, was visible through the open back door.
Of Maulana? Her lips pursed. Of my art? Of my huge wardrobe, my jewels, all my stuff? Is this what my life accumulating possessions has meant? Have I made my own trap?
I’ve got to make plans. And I still need to get rid of the painting. I can’t keep it locked up in the Armory, and I just won’t let it be destroyed. How then to…give it back.
Suddenly, she smiled. Maria can send it back…a different Maria.
Chapter 41
July 7, 1000 hours
Snath Genetics, South San Francisco
Sven walked through the Snath Genetics production facility. Huge stainless steel vats towered side-by-side. Each vat had contained a different genetically-modified life growing within it until yesterday. He stopped at vat 23 and grinned. No purpose was as important to him as the phytoplankton project. Down the line, workmen were draining all the other vats into the sewer.
“How soon until the chlorinated water’s purged?”
At his side, Eric was itemizing the quantities already available and when additional batches would be completed. “This afternoon, all 29 vats will be clean and recharged with salt water. Then we’ll use the feedstock from #23 to populate them.”
“Good.”
They walked to the receiving area. Sven put his hand on a shipping cylinder that had just arrived from his supplier. “What are the optimum conditions you’re going to set these to?”
“We’ll put them in a solution with a specific gravity of 1.02, with some additives that will help their survival rates. We changed the artificial lighting systems from LED to quantum dot– it’s more efficient, and it will be on 16 hours per day. We can calculate the quantity to put into each cylinder based upon the destination so that by the time they reach the release point, it will have propagated exponentially to the optimal concentration.”
Sven glanced at the container. “What’s the color temperature of the lights?”
“It’s set at 6500 Kelvin, so it emits a cool bluish-white light. It’ll maximize the growth rate.”
Sven nodded. “How about the temperature settings?”
“The heating and chilling units will keep them at the desired temperature.”
“What else?”
“The cylinders will be both continuously agitated and aerated so the plankton don’t suffocate or collect at the bottom,” Eric waved his hand in a rocking motion. “The filtration systems we already had. And the remaining plankton, CO2, and macronutrient feeding systems should be ready in a week. With the built-in auxiliary power system, these cylinders should be trouble-free for at least two months.”
“Excellent. When can we start filling?”
“We’ve got enough feedstock for 4 cylinders now. With 29 vats coming on line, the rest will be ready within 10 days.”
“What about the release?” Sven scanned the data coming off the bioreactor vats for concentration levels.
“As you requested. We’ve set up a single workstation to control the slow release either remotely through our GPS tracking system, or we can set a redundant autonomous release system based upon the gyre information we have. I don’t see that it will matter too much how accurate we are.”
“Did you start the field test?”
Eric nodded. “Yes, it’s pretty small scale. We sprayed about 320 liters of phytoplankton in San Francisco Bay today. We’ll be measuring expansion rates daily.”
“Eric, you’re going to start receiving cylinders as they come out of production. This one’s just a prototype. The first real one will arrive tomorrow. Fill it, put it on a workboat, and test it offshore in the California Current. It travels at about 3 klicks per hour. That’s 71 kilometers per day. Test both the GPS and timer function.... And keep me posted.”
Sven returned to his office to see he had five calls from Peggy. Damn, she’s clingy.
Chapter 42
July 8, 0900 hours
Cap Du Nice Cemetery, Nice, France
The damp grass felt good on her knees. She was kneeling alongside her great-grandfather’s grave, arranging fresh lilies in a brass vase at the marker’s base. Her eyes were damp as she studied the loneliness of the family plot’s single stone.
Where are the others, great-grandpapa? What happened to the rest of our family? I’ve felt so alone for so long. Yours is the only family grave I know. She stared at the partisan initials. Was the freedom you fought for worth the cost? Why didn’t you just look the other way and live a comfortable life? Could you have forgone the sacrifice?
> She looked up in the sky for guidance. Can I?
Leaning against the marker’s edge, her arms wrapped around her pulled-in legs and her forehead lay on her knees. Her eyes tightly closed as images of her past jumbled together, the bad mixing with the good, all whirling through her mind. Her pulse raced as visions flashed at breakneck speed. Such was her curse, to be burdened with an overactive memory.
Using martial arts meditation to slow her overlapping experiences, she tried filing the violent memories away, bringing order back from chaos. Redoubling her efforts to clear her thoughts of what was history, she focused on what was yet to come.
Minutes later, having weighed her options, she made her decision. With renewed composure, she rose. A glint of light off the nearby church spire caught her eye, which then drifted down to the open church doors. She smiled and walked toward it.
Chapter 43
July 8, 1100 hours
The Spider, Monaco
Anna stepped onto the gangway two hours later. Crossing the Spider’s quarterdeck as it sat pier-side in Monaco, she was greeted by one of the crew.
“Hello Miss Anna, welcome aboard. We’ve missed you.”
“As I have missed the Spider’s crew,” she said cheerfully. She walked below decks to a workshop. Opening up a locked storage box, she looked at the contents. There’s an awful lot of stuff here to remove in one trip.
She filled a black bag with explosives, making sure nothing in it would float. Casually walking up to the main deck, she glanced around to ensure her privacy, and went to the outboard rail. Comfortable no one was watching, she dumped the bomb- making contents over the side.
What a waste of C4 and PETN. Her expression was sour.
It took her two similar trips to dispose of detonators, wiring, timers, and anything heavy. On the last trip, she retrieved some personal weapons and clothes, and put them in two carrying bags. Approaching the quarterdeck, she put the bags down and asked the guard for Marv.
