Chapter Thirteen
The Regency Resort’s Crystal Château ballroom looked resplendent in full Christmas regalia. A Dickensonian time capsule, decorations of red and green velvet carried the hotel’s Victorian holiday theme throughout the large expanse.
The charity cocktail party was already in full swing when Colonel Alex Freemont had arrived forty-five minutes earlier. A string quartet floated gentle notes over the heads of the animated, bubbling crowd. The soothing melodies of Yuletide carols had no affect on his brewing anxiety, the little electric shocks knotting his neck muscles into tight cables.
Verde better come through…or else…and why hasn’t he called back by now? How hard can it be to get control of one lousy project?
He scanned the crowd and noted the guests were strictly “A” listers, filling the room with a large cross-section of Gen-X celebrities, business tycoons and politicos from all along the greater eastern seaboard.
Magnificently dressed women, ranging from political trophy wives to silicone-enhanced Hollywood starlets, balanced their voluptuous bodies atop tall stiletto heels and the champagne classes clinked with the bright ring of fine crystal. Their perfectly coiffed hair and imported perfumes enticed the young men to surround them in packs, their pheromone-fired desire hidden beneath the thinnest veneer of diamond-draped civilization.
The women smiled graciously, joining in the boisterous conversation and laughing at the ribald jokes, while under Armani tuxedos, the men’s cultured facades hid a barely restrained primal hunger that would demand eventual surrender and satisfaction.
Ignoring the rest of the crowd, Freemont spied the Governors of Massachusetts, Rohde Island and Connecticut locked in deep conversation, sipping drinks on the other side of the room. The two men and one woman spoke in hushed undertones, punctuating their words with clear, demonstrative gestures. Freemont strained to make out what these powerful people were saying.
Tearing his attention away from the gubernatorial coffee-klatch, he continued his visual sweep of the crowd as he gingerly sipped at three fingers of Bushmills Irish whiskey, neat. He checked his watch and angrily saw that his cohort was almost half an hour late.
Were the hell is she? He thought, anger buzzing in his mind like an annoyed wasp.
A few minutes later, he finally eyed his quarry standing in the corner, leaning against the bar and chatting with the wife of a belt-way lobbyist. He watched as she accepted a large glass from one of the three mixologists serving the throng of influential guests milling around.
“About dammed time she got here.” He groused in a low hiss. He caught her eye and she acknowledged him with a small nod of her head. She moved to an elegantly adorned banquet table a few feet away, pulled out a chair and sat down, placing her handbag in front of her. He slowly approached and took the chair next to her.
“Clarissa, glad you could make it,” he greeted, the words laced with half-hearted sarcasm. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Clarissa Geovoni smiled at his amusing attempt to chastise her. An olive-skinned Italian-American of astounding beauty, her long dark hair framed a face of classic Mediterranean features. Instantly transfixed, Freemont swallowed dryly as his eyes roamed her body, pausing for a long look at the abundant cleavage straining the straps of her black silk cocktail dress.
“Hello, Alex.” she said, her voice a soft caress to his ears.
His gaze continued down her body, eyes drinking her in from firm legs to the red-lacquered toenails peeking demurely out of a pair of open-toed shoes. He noted the nail polish matched her lipstick.
“You look great,” he said. “Sorry to take you away from your date.”
He took another sip of his drink, trying to sweep away the raw, carnal thoughts skittering across his mind.
“Thank you. He’s planning to slip away from his wife and meet me upstairs later. I’m alone…for now.”
“So am I. General Omar invited me as his guest.”
“Is everything in place?” she asked, casually sipping an apple Martini from an over-sized glass.
He stiffened in his chair for a second, then relaxed. “Not yet…but it will be soon.”
“What do you mean, ‘not yet’? Time is running out.”
“Verde is being difficult. I had to apply a little more pressure.”
“You’re not serious! I’m not missing out on millions of dollars because you can’t control one errant scientist. I did my part. Now you do yours!”
“I’m sure it was tough duty.” Freemont answered sharply, his voice equal parts resentment and jealously. “And keep your voice down.”
Eyes flaring brightly, Clarissa snapped out an angry, burning retort. “Don’t tell me how tough it is! You don’t have to sleep with him. He’s such an adolescent…a horny little adolescent at that.”
They both looked across the dance floor at Zephrem Dumont, Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. The ASC’s elite membership hears the big-ticket budget requests the military brings before Congress. Without the approval of the ASC, the military can’t buy so much as a bus token. The ASC oversees hundreds of billions in defense spending annually and its members are universally recognized as the most powerful law-makers on Capitol Hill.
Feeling a twinge of male disdain, Freemont noticed that Dumont hadn’t let himself go as many former athletes do when their careers change direction. Fifty-five years-old, Dumont’s intelligent eyes burned from beneath a thick mantle of close-cropped salt and pepper hair and his jacket rested on hard-muscled, broad shoulders. Freemont begrudgingly admitted that the man was still quite handsome and a small cluster of admiring women surrounding Dumont seemed to agree.
He turned away from Clarissa and emptied his glass. “As long as he delivers when the time comes. We need him to get the contract through the appropriations committee. He is on-board, right?”
She shook her head in visible contempt. “He thinks he’s in love with me.”
His eyes again met hers. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
“Yes. We’ll have what we need…when we need it.”
“Good. Without him, we’ve got nothing…except a colossal waste of our time.”
“I told you I did my part. He’ll get the contracts approved, but you’ve got to get the product lined up. The contract approval is meaningless without control of the patent.”
Intentionally ignoring her rebuke, he continued. “You took care of the other details as well, I presume?”
“Of course I did. I bought the blocks of stock in the production company and the contract approval is all lined up. Now all we need is the project design to secure the patent rights.”
“I’ll have that in place by the end of the day.”
“Really, you’re sure? I thought you said Verde’s being ‘difficult’.”
“Yes. He’s dragging his feet about getting me control of the project, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
She gave him a questioning glance, then shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Enough business for tonight, since we’re both ‘unattached’…at least for the moment, let’s enjoy the party.”
He slid his hand under the tablecloth and rested it on her thigh. He relished the feel of the warm flesh against his fingertips.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she playfully warned, lifting his hand from her leg and pushing it away. “You know the rules.”
He exhaled an artificially heavy sigh. “Yes, I know. You’ll sleep with anyone but me.”
She flashed an impish grin, her green eyes lighting mischievously. “Sorry. I don’t sleep with my partners…makes things too complicated. It’s bad for business.”
His eyes met hers in a sideways glance. “And when this is over?”
She leaned over and her lips just brushed his ear, sending a shiver racing down his back. “When this is over…and we’re both disgustingly rich, that pesky rule will no longer apply.”
A quick glance a
round the room confirming they remained unnoticed, she caressed his manhood through his uniform slacks, the sudden touch causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“I promise; it’ll be worth the wait.” She breathed into his ear, then licked the lobe for good measure.
“Of that I have no doubt.” He agreed, swallowing dryly. “Would you like another drink?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He stood and moved toward the bar. He handed over his glass and the bartender refilled it. Ordering Clarissa’s Martini, he withdrew his phone from his jacket and dialed as the bartender mixed the concoction. After the sixth ring, he closed the cover. Dammit! Why doesn’t he answer?
Taking the drink from the bartender’s outstretched hand, he returned to the table and his “partner”.
Unbeknownst to Freemont, on the other side of town Jack Verde’s cell phone continued to chirp in the holster attached to his belt. The electronic plea for attention went unanswered, the sound bouncing off the cold steel walls of the trash dumpster before fading into silence.
Chapter Fourteen
"Chain Reaction" Power Failure Book I Page 19
