After Romania, one night in Rome.
In 16 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.
When our ancestor committed the first murder, was it rage, or fear that drove them to the deed?
(Evening near the Metropole, Roma, Italia)
"I think you've done well," Riki congratulated me as she terminated her phone call. Word had come down that her replacement was on the way. Our profile had been updated back at State and they clearly wanted to bring in the 'real professionals'. There also had been a miscommunication. I was far too stressed to be reasonable now.
Some undeserving smuck was about to be at the receiving end of my wrath for no better reason than I was at my limit of accepting any further alterations to my life. In hindsight, I was being totally irrational. At that moment in time, I didn't care whose day I was ruining. Sometimes I can be a jerk and an idiot at the same time.
The US State Department apparently thought I couldn't dictate who was, or wasn't, a member of 'Unit L', we now had our own designation within Javiera's expanding task-force. The government had a random name generator for this shit and we got the letter 'L'. Maybe that device didn't think we were going to last long enough to matter. Anyway, I took the phone and hit redial. Riki gave me an 'I'm puzzled' look.
"Who am I talking to?" I inquired.
"Ms, who are you?" he demanded, since my caller ID said Riki and, unless I used my high, squeaky voice, I obviously sounded like a guy.
"I'm Cáel Nyilas. Who is this?" I replied.
"I'm Bill A. Miller, Director of the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Nyilas?" He was rather uptight about the call-back.
"Since we are working together, why don't you call me Cáel?" I politely requested. "I'll call you Willy."
"My name is Bill, but you can call me Director Miller," he corrected me. "The reason for your call is?"
"It is Willy, or Dick; your choice," I countered. "I don't call my boss 'Director' and I worship the ground she walks on. You are not even in her league. Also, I've had bad experiences with guys named Bill which are too painful to explain right now."
That was true. One was friend taking a shower and leaving me alone with his mother. The other was early on in my career when I confused a girl named Bonnie with her real name 'Bill'. I was my own personal 'The Crying Game'. I didn't handle that episode well.
"Besides, I didn't call to discuss name-calling. I want to know how many agents work for you."
"What does that have to do with anything?" he grumbled.
"You are quick with the questions while painfully bereft of answers," I snorted. "Don't make me Google this too."
"Over two thousand," he stopped being a total ass. "Is there anything else I can tell you that Miss Martin should have been able to tell you?" Ooops, Back to being an ass.
"Riki's being physically restrained from taking her phone back by some of my educationally-challenged, illegal alien, unskilled labor force of questionable loyalty," I outrageously lied. It was an odious habit of mine that I'd cultivated vigorously over the past few weeks. "Two thousand humans, thanks. Is Riki's replacement a guy, or a girl? Wait, who cares? Just send their picture and I'll let you know where to send their replacement."
"Are you threatening my people?" he simmered.
"No. That would make me an uncooperative and nefarious nuisance," I evaded. "Of course, when a person sticks their hand into a functioning garbage disposal, you don't blame the device. You blame the moron who stuck their hand in." From the perspective of our relationship, I was the garbage disposal.
"That definitely sounds like a threat," he responded. He was going to stick his hand in anyway.
"Your inability to comprehend the nuances possible with the English language is not why I called and not something I feel I can educate you about, given my current time constraints. Just have one of your insipid flunkies send me the picture. I need to purchase duct tape and an out-of-the-way storage space," I informed him.
"By the way, in the spirit of legal chicanery, could you tell me how long it will take for Riki Martin's name to come back up in the rotation? Let's figure 36 hours between each hot-shot leaving DC and their eventual inability to return phone calls," I wanted to make sure he knew I was taunting his pompous self. (Me being pompous and unhelpful didn't cross my mind at that moment.)
"Let me make myself clear, Mr. Nyilas," he repeated. "Not only can you not dictate terms to the US government, you are not even the team's designated leader." I wasn't? Fuck him. I had tons of useless members of the Alphabet Mafia in front of my name, all loudly proclaiming my numerous accolades.
Of everyone on the team, I had the most: NOHIO (Number One House Ishara Official), HCIESI-NDI, (Havenstone Commercial Investments Executive Services' Intern -- New Directive Initiative, I didn't make that one up, I swear), MEH (Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege) and UHAUL (Unpaid Honcho Assigned to Unit L). I liked that last one, so that was how I was going to sign off on all my reports now.
"First off, I AM in charge, Willy. Without me, there is no Unit L. I quit, and then what? In case you missed it, I can't be drafted or threatened by you. If you think you can replace me, please do so right now and let me get back to my life -- you know, the thing that actually puts money in my pocket.
Besides, I am not refusing to take anyone you see fit to put on MY team. I'm just not going to tell you where I'm going to take them to. I suspect they are adults and can find their way home, eventually, Willy."
"Mr. Nyilas, you are an unbelievably fortunate amateur and novice intellectual in a situation that demands experience and professionalism. It is time for you to step back and let the people who know what they are doing take over. Just play your part and we'll make sure you get due credit for following orders and behaving," he unleashed his fair-smelling bile.
"I am following your orders; your procedures dictate that a member of the State Department will be on this team," I kept my calm. "As one of the people who actually has experience with this situation, I'm letting you know how things work in the field. Every person you send will be misplaced, thus you will have to send someone else. Alerting you to the need to stay on top of your job -- sending someone else -- sounds to me like common sense advice in this circumstance."
"That is not going to happen, Nyilas. If something happens, " he got out.
"Willy, duct tape is plentiful and cheap. Kidnapping -- thus hostage keeping -- is virtually a religion in Southern Italy. And though I am already wired into the local criminal underground, I'm just not going to be able to help you, or them. I'll make up some implausible excuses as the need arises. So now you know the score. The next move is yours," I smiled.
"The next words out of your mouth had better be 'I'll behave', or the State Department will revoke your passport and have stern words with the Republic of Ireland over your diplomatic status," Willy warned me.
"I'll behave," I fibbed. Riki snatched the phone out of my hand.
"Sir -- Director Miller, I want you to know I had nothing to do with Mr. Nyilas' tirade," Riki apologized. "He stole my phone."
"I did." and "oww!" I hollered in the background. "She ground her heel into my instep. the fiery little minx." I was propping up her excuse because I owed her for verbally taking a dump on her boss, the ass-heap back in Romania. Riki punched me.
"Ms. Martin, do we need to reconsider your employment, or can we rely on you to re-organize Unit L before Ms. McCauley (her replacement) arrives?" Willy lectured.
"Director Miller, "
"Call him Big Willy," I whispered to her. "He loves that 'Big Willy' style."
This time she hit me in the thigh. My ballistic vest had gotten in the way of her first hit, but she was a quick learner.
"How can you know a song from 1997, yet not know that Russia invaded Georgia in 2008?" Riki put her hand over the phone and hissed at me.
"Ah," Pamela teased. "Somebody is a Will Smith fan." Riki looked away.
I wasn't sure what to make of the Will Smith -- Ricky Martin combo forming in my mind. Will was one of my manly icons. Hey, he was a stud, scored numerous hotties in his film career and married Jada Pinkett Smith. What's not to love? Growing up, I wanted to be like Will Smith. When/if I ever finished growing up, I wanted to be like George Clooney.
"Director Miller," Riki tried again. "He's lying. From my personal observations and with supporting personality profiles provided by other members of the task force, I can guarantee you that Mr. Nyilas is unreliable and untrustworthy. Sir, I've watched Romani males hide their wallets and their daughters when he walks by." Okay, wasn't that last bit a lie?
"that last bit a lie?es hide their wallets and their daughters when he walks by. provided by other members However, unless she has been cross-trained as a waitress at a gang-affiliated nightclub, a day-care worker for the criminally insane, plus consistently wins at Texas hold 'em, she's going to be out of her element here."
"No sir, but Mr. Nyilas likes me, I'm not sure why," she glared at me. I poked her in the boob to help clarify the matter. Riki slapped my hand. Virginia punched me in the shoulder. I decided to poke Virginia in her ballistic-covered breast, hoping she was jealous for the attention. I was wrong. They both hit me again.
Had this been sexual harassment, they would have hated this job and despised me. Since this was me being my painfully childish self, well, I was still annoying, but also adorable. Put it this way: if a woman could not only pepper spray a man making cat-calls at her, and was even encouraged to do so, wouldn't that de-stress the situation?
"Director Miller, I don't want to stay on this assignment, yet I'd be remiss if I didn't explain some of the numerous pitfalls of working with Unit L. Every one of them is comfortable being a walking arsenal. I'm on my way to have a ballistic vest tailored for me because I'm the only one in the unit without one. I have no doubt that any of them could kill me with their bare hands in less than 5 seconds if they so desired," she explained.
"You would think they would want a more effective combatant with them," Miller grew icy, suspecting duplicity on Riki's part -- moron. She looked at me over the phone.
"Sir, I think they like me because I know I don't belong in a firefight. They can count on me to cower behind cover while the bullets are flying. That allows the rest to kill unimpeded by having to keep an eye on me," she said.
Pause.
"One of them did show me how to recognize and start various grenades. She said if I was ever the last one alive, it would give me 'options'."
Pause.
"Ms. Martin, don't cancel your flight back to DC yet. I'm going to give Ms. Castello a call to see what her assessment of the situation is," Willy allowed. "Good-bye."
"I can't believe I talked him into making me stay with you people," Riki moaned.
Our little caravan was slowing to a stop outside the Metropole Hotel. It was Hana's choice for a Roman meeting location. A restaurant and a hotel room, all in one location. Rachel and Wiesława were ahead of us, checking things out. Hana had informed us that the Illuminati had two people watching her. This was going to be my last bit of time with Rachel for a while.
(Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch, )
Two new members of House Ishara were on their way to Rome. They'd be joined by two members of the House Guard of Andraste from Britain. The two Isharans were the first members of the House Guard of Ishara in over a thousand years. I didn't expect them to be the martial equals of Rachel, or Charlotte. Not yet. And anyway, that didn't matter. What mattered to me was that they'd volunteered for the task and Buffy felt they were the best we had.
Another nomadic pack of House Hylonome Amazons had taken in the traumatized Zola. She had to stay in Romanian until the authorities finished up her part of the investigation. A mixed group from House Živa and Ishara (led by Helena) would handle security for Professor Loma, his family and the Lovasz sisters during their trip to New York.
Aliz, his wife, was officially in House Ishara's custody. That was my best play at making sure she avoided summary justice for her 'betrayal' of House Hylonome. The whole group would be handed over to House Epona as soon as the Romanians cleared them for foreign travel. It helped my case that Aliz appreciated my warnings about the danger that both families were in from House Illuyankamunus.
The occult nitpicking that allowed me to leverage this maneuver was accomplished by me doing yet another rarely done feat. In the name of Alkonyka Lovasz, House Ishara was sponsoring a new Amazon house. I could testify to the existence and matronage of the Goddess SzélAnya (without her permission), which was one of the stepping stones for acceptance.
Vincent was going to stay in Germany for two days, then he was off to his home and daughters in Arlington Virginia, with a long convalescence and a rumored promotion. Mona and Tiger Lily were already on their way to New York as honor guard for Charlotte's body, courtesy of the US Air Force. The Amazons needed the USAF to do it because that was the only way we could get the Romanians to release her body.
The Hylonome dead, they would be buried in a private plot after all the autopsies were done. I was absolutely sure the Hylonome would steal the bodies in due time and give them a 'proper' burial. Of the Mycenaeans, Red and one of his buddies still remained at large. Of Ajax's half-brother, Teucer, and the other previously wounded Greek warrior, there was no sign. Kwen and the other POWs remained in Romania to face a laundry list of charges. Her fate was unknown to me.
My bodyguard was reduced, yet no one minded. The twin reasoning was that the Black Hand in Italy would provide some protection for me. The other was that I was in the birthplace of the Condottieri. Selena's sources strongly suspected that their HQ was close to Rome itself. I could have had more security by recruiting among the 'natives'.
Various sources, some inside Italy, had suggested that the Carabinieri, Italy's military police force, had 'offered' to provide some protection. That was prompted by events surrounding my visits to Budapest & Mindszent, Hungary and the 'action' south of Miercurea Ciuc, Romania (no one wanted to call it a battle, even though the fight involved over 1000 Romanian Land Forces troops and half a squadron of the Romanian Air Force).
My refusal of the offer caused a 'disruption'. This was a polite way of saying the Italians did not want me to enter their country. I wasn't being a jerk this time. Selena and Aunt Briana were both of the opinion that the Condo's recruited heavily from European military and paramilitary units -- particularly Western Europe. And that not all their 'new hires' had left active duty either.
A peculiar circumstance then developed. The pretext for denying me entry was undercut by Hungary and Romania erasing me from their official investigation. I wasn't a threat (despite the burnt landscape and tombstones sprouting up in my wake.) Romania didn't want me to stay, Hungary decided they didn't want me back -- at the moment -- and the US/UK/Ireland were telling the Italians that I was a peach, or whatever implied that in diplomatic speech.
There was a compromise finally reached by Riki and shadow forces that I couldn't put names to. I could come to Italy as long as my itinerary was relayed to Carabinieri. We could keep our side arms in holsters and our big guns as long as they weren't on our persons. I could go around without a Carabinieri bodyguard as long as I ignored them floating around me at a discreet distance. A liaison officer would meet me at the hotel to maintain the illusion that I was just a paranoid tourist.
Delilah had to touch base with the British again, probably for the same reasons that the US wanted to replace Riki. While both Delilah and Chaz were military and seconded to MI-6, they weren't considered Intelligence Experts by the people at the helm. For that matter, they weren't even sure how Delilah had ended up at my side, killing multi-national terrorists in three separate countries inside of one month. That was very cinematic, not realistic. The idea of governments with shadow operatives 'sanctioning' people was not something that anyone in the 'know' wanted to talk about.
Whether it was before the media, a US Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, the United States House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, or a UK Parliamentary Foreign Affairs Select Committee this wasn't what these Department Heads wanted to discuss. Less anyone forget, my Congress and my President didn't, ummm, get along.
In my favor, I was an orphan from New Hampshire, both my US Senators were women and I'd worked on their campaigns or dated some of their volunteers. It might do me some good to call Dr. Kimberly Geisler at Bolingbrook to see what she could do politically. All that could wait.
(Finishing Up)
Selena Jovanović had the first of our two dark blue Alfa Romeo 159s, the one that disgorged Rachel and Wiesława. She, Saku and Odette would circle the block in case there was any trouble. Pamela had the driver's seat in my car. No one wanted me or Odette to drive because we didn't understand urban Italian street etiquette. It was Virginia, me and Riki in the backseat with Chaz up front with Pamela.
Rachel gave the preliminary order to disembark. That meant the lobby was partially clear -- there were armed types about that seemed to be either Carabinieri, or understandable private security. Rome wasn't as dangerous as Mexico City (kidnap-wise), but events in London, Budapest and the Hungarian and Romanian countryside were putting people on edge. And those with enough money could buy some emotional comfort in the form of armed private contractors.
Chaz took his H&K UMP-45, stock folded, out of the bag at his feet and secured it inside the right-side of his jacket. Three spare clips went inside a harness on his left. It was dreamlike as Virginia and I went through a similar, less heavily armed process. For FBI Girl, it was a 'carry-on' with flash-bang, concussion and smoke grenades, plus a few extra clips/mags for everyone.
For me, it was a tomahawk, a second Gloc-22 and a bullet for everyone in the hotel, if that became necessary. As the car came to a stop in front of the main doors, I worked my way over Riki so that I would be the second person to exit the car. Chaz would be the first. Virginia got out on her side. Pamela would stay at the wheel -- Riki had an appointment with a tailor to keep.
I felt it then, that sympathetic spiritual harmony I was one-third of. I looked up into the 'clear' Rome night. There she was, Bellatrix, the Amazon star in the Constellation of Orion. According to the Egyptian Rite, the Weave of Fate was nearly invisible by day, but by night, you could make out its strands in the motion of the stars. That was not something Alal had ever truly mastered. Still,
I had a new phone since the charred remains of my old one were in some evidence locker in Budapest by now. That didn't mean I wanted to use it. I was getting squirrely about people I didn't want finding me, finding me. Chaz was in the lead, I was in the middle and Virginia covered my back. Rachel caught sight of us, gave a quick nod, and then she and Wiesława went for the elevators.
Rachel would want to check out Hana's room before I got there -- if I got there. I called Odette.
"Hey Babe," Odette beamed excitement my way. She was in Rome and we had a guaranteed 24 hour layover. For a girl who thought her great adventure in life was going to end up being a high school trip to Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell, she was in Nirvana.
"Hey to you too, Odette. I need a favor," I began.
"Sure," she chirped.
"In five minutes from, right now make sure Sakuniyas comes to see me and Hana in the restaurant by herself," I requested. Odette hesitated, taking in her knowledge of 'Cáel-speak'.
"No problemo Jeffe," she answered. She knew I was in some undefined trouble. We both knew that her body language would convey that unease to Saku, which was what I needed. See, I had a plan. I tapped Chaz, slowing him and thus allowing Virginia to bunch up with us.
"Do either one of you remember the movie 'Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows'?" I posed.
Chaz looked past me to Virginia. They didn't get the reference.
"The scene where Moriarty kills Irene Adler?" I prodded them. The lights came on. I wanted to jump for joy, except that would have ruined the poker faces those two had in place.
"Options?" Chaz mused.
"I go into the hotel's restaurant alone. You and Virginia make sure that we can exit the lobby if things go bad. Saku is on her way to see me and Hana. Let her pass unhindered and uninformed. She's my exit plan," I informed them.
"What is the plan exactly?" Virginia inquired.
"My grandfather is in this hotel. I can't tell you exactly where, but he's here. The second I enter the restaurant, warn Rachel," I added. "She'll want me to leave the hotel and that doesn't do us any good strategically. Got it?"
"I'm calling Rachel, so you had better get to it," Virginia warned me. Off I went.
I walked into the very nice restaurant. It was a post-WW II set up, more open and airy than the turn of the Twentieth Century stuff that you normally found downtown, or so I'd been told. Everything was normal, which is to say there was the polite façade of people in public with the chaotic emotional subtext to the prerequisite number of couples and family units.
I would have wondered if I was becoming more bonkers had I not spotted Libra, and Hana's personal assistant, Ms. Meacham, already seated at a separate dual-seat table. Three table's away sat Hana at a large, eight person rectangular setting. Libra and Ms. Meacham were close enough to be of use if summoned, yet not so close that they could easily eavesdrop.
The 'I'm not bonkers' part? Hana was sitting in the southern-most placed chair. Across from her was Grandpa. They were chatting amiably. I had one day of spy craft training, and tons of Alal. I picked up a nice shiny, empty glass from the first table I came across. The three-person group wasn't using it. I held it before me, between chest and shoulder level, pretending to be studying the objects gently curves. I wasn't.
Alal spotted me first, motioned to Hana to look my way, then stood. Hana stood as well. There was no calling out a greeting in a place this fancy. I smiled at them both. My left hand migrated to the butt of the pistol in my right shoulder holster. I was looking at the reflections in the glass, seeing how people reacted. I got my answer. I wasn't bonkers.
I'd only seen three of the ten people whose images I could capture in the glass's pale reflection react by placing their hands into laps, under the tables, or into purses. Considering there were roughly 50 patrons and twenty-some staff, those were bad odds. As I pulled my left hand back to my side, I caught a glimpse of a person in front of me reacting similarly. Woot! Four out of eleven. Worse odds.
"Hello, Cáel," Hana greeted me. She kissed my cheek. I kissed her lips. "Ah," she gave me a warm smile, "I didn't know you had a grandfather. He heard I was coming to Rome and wanted to meet me. We've had quite a family chat."
"Hello Grandfather," I nodded to my supposed Patriarch.
I also threw my glass at person number four -- who caught it. Sweet!
"I am proud of you, Cáel," Alal gave me a congratulatory nod. "For that and for Ajax. You've continually exceeded my expectations. We really are much more alike than you imagine."
"Ajax?" Hana turned, worried.
"Hana, this man is my Grandfather. He is the enemy of every child's smile. Evil is too confined a word to describe him. Suffice it to say," I looked to Alal, "he murdered forty-six women and girls as prelude to my own 'Twelfth Year' trial." I was referencing the Amazon rite of passage. Alal knew what I meant and the bastard approved of the comparison.
"You were responsible for what happened to Cáel and his people in Romania?" Hana turned on Grandpa, first uncertain, then furious.
"Cáel is a bit past the pat on the head and requests to repeat the lesson phase of his life, Hana," Grandpa sat back down. "I need to know if I can have confidence in him in the future and I don't have time for the normal pleasantries."
"Cáel? Please help me make sense of this," Hana put her hand around my waist to the small of my back. She could feel the 32 caliber resting there. She was also letting Alal know that she wasn't going to break it off with me because of his intimidations.
"Wow, where to start? He had my Father murdered," I looked into her eyes. "I haven't figured out what he did to my Mother," I continued. I wasn't sure whose side Mom was on, so I didn't want to let the cat out of the bag concerning her still being alive. "He had my aunts, his daughters, kill my uncle, his son, to get inside my head, both physically and emotionally. What he physically did to my head isn't something I can explain in any scientifically acceptable way.
"A needle was shot between the left and right side of my brain lobes, then it set off an electronic storm that pretty much ensures that I can never sleep again. I'm not sure why he did this, but I know why he's here right now," I looked into those twins of my own emerald eyes. "He is reminding me that if I make a run for it -- which would be my best chance for survival -- he will kill the people I care for. He's that kind of guy."
"You are that kind of guy, too," Grandfather toasted me with some wine. He waited until Hana and I reciprocated the gesture. "Wait and see."
"That's a lie," I countered. "Grandfather, I don't know what you are doing, but making me into a 'mini-version' of you isn't it. Right now, you are into head games for reasons I'm not going to speculate about."
"He would kill Father and my daughter? The others?" Hana tipped my chin so that I was looking at her again.
"Remember our last time together in New York? The other person's memories? Those are his; and I can't begin to go into the science fiction that was behind that," I tried to explain.
"I know of almost all of Grandfather's atrocities and I don't have any doubt he'd kill anyone and everyone he felt was necessary in order to achieve his ends," I said. "Had I known he existed when I graduated, I would have vanished off the face of the Earth to avoid him."
"Why?" Hana squeezed me.
"Why?" Grandfather grinned. "Cáel doesn't want to be like me. He believes in humanity and that's a failing I don't want him to carry into his future." Hana looked at Alal and I could feel the heat of her anger penetrating me. "Oh, I'll kill Cáel if I have to, but I'd rather have him at my side. If not, I have other plans in the works."
"Cáel, can you kill him?" Hana wasn't beating around the bush or beating a morality drum for that matter. Her family was on the line and she was Jormo's daughter in spirit.
"Not yet," I responded. "But I have plan #1 and #2 in the works."
"See, you are becoming like me," Alal chuckled.
"How about this?" I raised my glass. We hadn't finished toasting yet. "Here is for getting what we think the person to our left thinks we deserve."
"Here, here," the other two chorused. Hana glared at Alal.
"Little girl, I'm not afraid of you," Grandpa snorted. "You believe in some level of accountability, that consideration for others makes both of you better and that civilization has advanced in your lifetime. You are wrong on all counts. If you don't expand your horizons, I'm going to start thinking that you are a detriment to my plans for Cáel," he revealed to her in such a kindly manner that it was hard to realize it was a death threat.
Hana looked at me for some sort of anchor in Alal's storm.
"Hana, let's sit," I moved to hold her chair. Hana sat down reluctantly. "Some, if not all, of the people around us work for him -- like the woman who caught the glass in mid-air then failed to call for anyone to have me removed."
"I noticed that," Hana nodded.
"I'm glad that's settled. Let's talk about you two," Grandpa stayed friendly on the outside. "Wedding? Children? Do you plan to settle down, or jet set?"
"What makes you think we will tell you a damn thing about our personal lives?" Hana spat.
Alal didn't get angry, though he did shoot me a look. Someone was early, but she hardly felt obliged to obey me in anyway. I saw Grandfather's eyes flash over my shoulder then back to me. He stood back up. Hana and I felt obliged to do the same. Sakuniyas had stopped in mid-stride toward our table.
"White hair," Saku studied Alal.
"Black Cloud," he addressed her while studying me. Saku strode across the restaurant like the Warrior Queen she had been. She and Grandfather embraced, first with a comradely forearm clasp then in a hug. They patted each other's backs.
"You did not tell me he was here," Sakuniyas swiveled to glare at me.
"I told you to come in five minutes," I countered. "We can both be disappointed in the other."
"Fine," she allowed. "Why are we here?"
"Cáel is playing one of my games," Alal gazed at me. "He is reminding me that he is close to you."
"Bbbbeeep!" I laughed. "Wrong."
"I've only known him a few days, Mr. O'Shea (grandpa's current last name), yet I know that isn't how your grandson's mind works," Hana had her own rush of revenge.
"Cáel Wakko Ishara is not like that," Saku said. "He retains his youthful exuberance, it is yet to be burned away in the crucible of battle and death. He is also loyal and compassionate."
"I trust him with my life," she added. "Cáel isn't like you, or I. He leads with his heart. He also inspires the warriors about him like few people I've ever met. In that, I see your spirit." Alal nodded.
"I agree," Grandpa stated. "Did you see him kill Ajax?"
"No," Saku shook her head. We all sat down. "The area was shrouded in smoke. By the time I saw him again, Rachel and one of the Romanians named Menner were beside Cáel and Ajax was dead."
"Are you going to tell me," Alal grinned at me, "or do I need to talk to Master Corporal Menner about what he saw?"
"No," I snorted while shaking my head. "Empty threat."
"Touché," Alal allowed.
"Who is Master Corporal Menner?" Hana tapped my elbow.
"He was the Romanian Mountain Trooper who shot the thermobaric grenade over my head," I informed her. "Like everyone else, he didn't see Ajax die. Since Grandfather most likely could access the Romanian Land Forces records, he already knows that," I continued. "In this Nyilas-O'Shea psychopathic family drama, all this maneuvering counts as joking around."
"This behavior will be restrained around the Sulkanen side of the family," Hana demanded.
"We will do our best," Alal replied smoothly. I couldn't tell if he was mocking her, joking, or serious. A waiter arrived. I had no doubt Alal had signaled him somehow.
"Cáel, do you imagine it is safe to eat, or drink anything here?" Hana asked before either one of us ordered. The waiter looked offended.
"I assure you, Miss, the food here is top notch," the waiter responded in Italian.
"Excuse me?" Hana looked at him. "I don't speak Italian."
"I don't think any of us do," I jokingly lied.
"Ah, I was assuring the lady that the food here is fine," he gave us a confident smile.
"May I recommended that, if 'you have the brain of a donkey'," he pointed out a line on the menu.
"That wasn't very bright," I looked up at him. "A real waiter at a place like this would be used to dealing with tourists and would never be that rude." The man's submissive posture changed to one of alpha aggressive. I continued, "I swear to God, if you come back to the main floor after submitting our orders, I will shoot you. And then we can all see who is part of this charade and who is for real," I grinned.
"It is okay," Alal waved him off. "No one will be shooting anyone."
"No!" I heard Odette shout from the entrance to the eatery. She was running at us. To their credit, none of the players overreacted. She came rushing over to me. "Hey Cáel, I wanted to see if everything was okay." I suspected she'd slipped past Virginia. Chaz would have cold-cocked her. At their table, Libra was clearly worried about Odette and the trouble she heralded.
Ms. Meacham was looking at Hana for direction. Hana motioned for her PA to keep her seat. Meacham relayed those orders to Libra. Libra wasn't the kind of person who was used to taking orders, especially from someone she considered her social inferior. Still, Libra remained seated.
"Hey Odette," I smiled as I stood to greet her. "What would have you done if I was in trouble?"
Her response is one of the many reasons I liked her.
"I would have invoked my totem animal, the Platypus, and poisoned people with my heel spikes," she seemed unflappable.
"Hello Odette," Granddad spoke without rising, and using her first name, while having never met her before.
"Oh, hey," Odette flashed him a naïve grin. "You must be the Necromancer of Dol Guldur."
"Huh?" Alal was confused by the reference.
"Sure, you are the spirit of the greatest Evil Middle Earth has ever seen, Pamela is Gandalf and Cáel is Thorin Oakenshield, out to ruin all your plans," she snickered, at Grand Dad.
"You -- I like," Alal laughed. Thank God.
"Odette, does that make you Bilbo Baggins?" I teased her, even as I pulled out a chair for her.
"Damn Skippy," she giggled. "We are way past gender-bending on this quest."
"What does that make Sakuniyas?" Alal requested.
"Aragorn, the Uncrowned King, Queen in her case," Odette happily informed the table.
"You've read the 'Hobbit' and 'Lord of the Rings'?" Hana regarded Alal skeptically.
"Yes Hana," he nodded. "As Cáel is learning, when you no longer have the need for sleep, you can accomplish all kinds of esoteric things."
"You never sleep?" Hana got my attention.
"I can fall into a trance-like state, yet even then I can do light tasks," I told her.
"Neat," Odette bumped me. "More time for sex." Hana sighed and lowered her head while Odette forged ahead. "So, what have I missed?"
"Cáel's Grandfather telling me that he sent Ajax to kill Cáel in Romania," Hana retained her focus. "That was nearly one hundred and fifty dead and over a hundred wounded."
"Including Charlotte," Odette moped. "I didn't get to know her very well, but she adored Cáel and Rachel says she had a 'good death', though I'm not sure what that means."
Yeah, my people had conversations and relationships out of my view. I hadn't considered how Charlotte's passing and Vincent nearly dying would have affected Odette, or how other members of the team would have taken care of her for me.
"It means she didn't have to die of sickness, or noting that her time in the Host had passed, child," Saku replied. "No one expects you to understand. You have lived a life sheltered in crude deceptions of peace and mind-numbing banality, devoid of true purpose," she told Odette.
"You are wrong," Odette verbally sparred. "I do know that Cáel and the others are risking their lives and are making sacrifices to protect people like me. Because of that, I can't let your side win."
"I could resolve that by slitting your throat," Saku reminded her.
"You wouldn't do that," Odette shook her head mirthfully. "Cáel would never forgive you and you don't want to cross him."
"I don't?" Sakuniyas scoffed.
"No," my fuck-buddy was fearless. "You may be a horrible person, but you admire him. As far as I can tell, that puts him in an exclusive club of two. That's why you are Aragorn, not Boromir."
"So you think she would spare you out of a sense of obligation to Cáel?" Alal inquired.
"Obligation? Oh God no," Odette laughed. "Despite what she says, she has no conception of what honor is. Without honor, obligations and promises mean nothing."
"Child," Saku seethed.
"Odette," both Hana and I warned her.
"No, you don't Sakuniyas," Odette stuck to her guns. "You know nothing of forgiveness or giving until it hurts. Honor isn't about words, Sakuniyas, it is about being trusted and delivering on that trust. Who trusts you?"
"If you trust Cáel, you are a fool," Saku growled.
"Ajax is dead, just like Cáel promised. He led you into battle, you followed him and he won. Would you have confronted Ajax without him?" Odette foolishly made her case.
"I thought Cáel was going to die," Saku corrected her. "I said as much."
"Yet you followed him into battle anyway," Odette snickered. "What did you plan to do if Ajax killed Cáel? Were you planning to die too?"
"I was planning to retrieve his body so it couldn't be despoiled," Saku stated.
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Odette confessed.
"It was a normal practice in battle in the time which Sakuniyas comes from," I told her.
"Funny how the conversation has come back to how you killed Ajax," Alal studied me.
"Wait, you don't know?" Odette gasped.
"You do?" Grandpa turned his gaze on her.
"They don't know?" Odette eyes shone brightly when she looked at me.
"Nope. Do you?" I asked her.
"Sure. It was obvious," Odette giggled. "It isn't like you are a complicated guy."
"Care to share?" Alal requested of Odette.
"With you?" Odette blinked. "No. You are the bad guy in this script. You deserve payback for every nasty thing you've ever done, because you've forgotten that every person deserves respect until they prove they are unworthy of it."
"I will work on that," Alal nodded.
That was that. We ate, made some small talk and parted ways cautiously. Okay, first we gathered up Libra and Ms. Meacham, then the six of us retreated cautiously. We exchanged nervous words to cover up our post-stress jitters, except for Saku, who kept her thoughts to herself. Chaz and Virginia joined with us seamlessly.
(All those Tomorrows)
"Do you think you can turn me against Alal?" Saku said as she put a hand around my left upper arm and stopped me from exiting the hallway into the room I was hopefully going to be sharing with Hana. Hana had already gone in.
"No," I shook my head. "I'm trying to turn Alal against you." That caused her to take a mental step back.
"What do you mean?" she glared. "We are not lovers. We never have been."
"You are lying to the wrong man," I snorted. She snarled then lashed out. I deflected her first fist, the second and the knee to my hip that followed it. We parried my right with her left, left to right then we bumped legs again. Chaz had put a restraining hand on Virginia's shoulder.
In the third exchange, I managed to shove her across the hall, giving me some space.
"He risked your life in the same way he risked mine," I snarled. "You haven't recovered from the beating you took, keeping my promise to the Romanians. Without a doubt, he's going to keep tossing these little lessons my way until everyone I care for is dead. That includes you."
"You belong at your Grandfather's side, Cáel," Saku glared. "He is your family. Don't, "
"Don't make the same mistake you did by turning your back on your family?" I completed.
"You don't know me, you aren't like me and you don't get to talk to me as if we are familiar in any way," Saku replied.
"You are absolutely right. I have offered my help without you asking for any," I nodded.
"I try to not ask too much of you. I certainly haven't requested you stay at my side. Until now, you haven't had a choice," I stated. "You were alone in a hostile world. Tonight, I gave you the choice. Alal didn't request your presence, though he obviously knew you were with me. Now you get to make up your mind. If I see you at breakfast, I will take that as your pledge to stay with me until the final encounter between me and Grandfather."
"Until?" Saku studied me.
"Of course. In his own twisted way, Alal loves you. He engineered you coming back from the dead. You first decided to work with me because you saw something of Alal in me," I answered. "When the time comes, I expect you to follow your heart, as you have always done."
"You remain an annoying Kililikilippa," Saku muttered. She stormed off to her room. I didn't bother continuing the conversation. I'd already won. The other two flashed me a curious look.
"Dragonfly. Kililikilippa is Assyrian for dragonfly," I answered them. There were worse pests to be identified with.
"Oh, Cáel, if you think she is going to betray us, she should be removed from the unit," Virginia said after the echoes of Sakuniyas slamming her door shut faded.
"Virginia, sending her away robs her of any chance to take charge of her life," I replied. "All she has is us."
"She is a danger to the rest of us," Chaz pointed out.
"Dangerous is following me around," I joked. "Sakuniyas is an added incentive for the rest of you to seek employment elsewhere and I wouldn't blame any of you one bit."
"You can't control her," Virginia said.
"As opposed to the control he exerts over you and me," Chaz changed sides. "Agent Maddox, you hold a modicum of trust in me because I am from a country and agency you comprehend as being worthy of that trust. Amazons and Assyria mean nothing to you.
They don't mean much to me either, but the kid (me) has good instincts and he willingly provides information we need to protect our respective citizenry," he pointed out. "I've made life and death decisions based on gut instincts before. That's why I'm still alive and in this profession. It is not for the second-guessers, self-doubters, or any individual with a guilty conscience."
"Do you ever worry about killing the wrong person?" Virginia inquired of Chaz.
"Worry? Yes. I don't worry so much that it keeps me from doing the job though," he responded.
"How did you end up, doing this?" Virginia wondered. Hana opened the door to our shared bedroom wearing a lot of slinky. Since I was a good judge of how long it takes a woman to disrobe, make up her mind about what impression she wants to convey to her date and get into that bit of lingerie -- unless naked is her thing -- I knew Hana hadn't been waiting one second.
"Ah, hi Ms. Sulkanen," Virginia became uncomfortable. Chaz gave an amused twist of the lips.
"Agent Maddox, 'Tomorrows' have been fighting for the English Crown since before they were even Tomorrows. The War of the Roses -- York then Tudor. Our Civil War -- for King Charles the First, the one executed. The Seven Years War -- buried two in Germany, the Holy Roman Empire back then.
Crimea -- buried a soldier outside of Sevastopol and had a sailor on the Grinder," he recited with some pride. "Second Afghan War -- four ancestors -- one died in battle and another of cholera. The First Boer War got the younger of the two survivors. My Great-Great Grandfather fought under Glaselee in China in 1900, then went on to fight in the World War I -- a total of seven served in that -- four lived.
One died in Ypres, one in Mesopotamia and the other in Italy. One came back without most of his right leg. We still have his wooden replacement over my uncle's mantel. One of those survivors died in Russia in 1919. We also lost our first female, a military nurse, in 1920 -- Spanish Influenza," he continued.
I was blown away. I had vague recollections of what my Father's father did; certainly not anything to compare to the Tomorrow family's lengthy, storied tradition.
"We lost one on Crete in '41. My Great-Grandfather died outside Arnhem in '44. The other three men and two women made it through. No one knows for sure what my Great-Aunt Martha did in WW II, but they gave her a medal for it in '56.
My Great-Uncle was in the SAS when they fought in Malaysia -- killing Communists. He trained my Mother's father, who went back to Malaysia with a cousin of mine in 1964 -- killing Indonesians -- go figure -- both lived. My Father fought in the Falklands -- SAS too. His brother, Uncle Mason, was in the Troubles -- killing Irishmen -- then was in Desert I -- killing Iraqis.
Uncle William died there -- doing what? No one knows. My oldest brother, Todd, killed some Peruvians though he doesn't like to talk about it. Todd, Christopher and me fought in Afghanistan -- they killed Christopher," he added without a hint of sorrow. "My oldest sister, Patty, betrayed the family honor and become an officer in the Royal Navy.
My other sister, Estelle, left the Royal Marines a few years back," Chaz kept going.
"How many children are in your family?" Virginia gulped.
"Seven. I'm the youngest. There are currently nine of us in service if you just count brothers, sisters, first and second cousins," he filled us in.
"So when Pamela referred to you as a 'Welshman too stupid to avoid government service,' she wasn't kidding," I chuckled.
"Pretty much. I believe you have more important things to do than chat with me and FBI Agent Maddox, Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege Cáel," he winked. "We'll be out here ignoring everything we hear, don't you worry."
"Yes Sir," I saluted him.
"Cáel, never do that again," Chaz smirked. "It isn't in you." He meant the salute, I guessed.
"Come here, You," Hana grabbed my tie and dragged me into the bedroom. She kicked the door shut. Woot!
(Hercege and Hercegné)
"This is so horribly screwed up," Hana shook her head, taken in by all the madness of the past few days of both our lives.
"What's wrong?" I wrapped my around her waist and pulled her tight, her forehead resting on my chin and her arms folded up between us.
"Usually I go on a date, or sometimes two, with a man before the topic of marriage comes up. When you tack on 'you proposing and me accepting pre-first date," she murmured. Sighed. "This is fraught with dangerous uncertainties. Also, " I liked her word usage.
"Yes?"
"You are by far the most immature man I've ever dated and I started dating when I was thirteen," she teased me with a harmonious sigh.
"You were dating men when you were thirteen," I faux-gasped. "You go girl! Were they really old men?" She balled up her left hand into a fist and lightly thumped me in the chest.
"I think we are back to you being a horrible person," she turned her head so she could rest her ear on my chest and listen to my heartbeat.
"Noted -- established -- accepted. I'm glad you are the good one in this pairing," I stroked her hair. "Good deeds have a way of causing me intense pain, so I'm working on avoiding them."
"Liar," she giggled. "Cáel, my first husband," she resumed. Guys, let a girl talk a bit about her past, failed romances. It is a guidepost of what not to do. Not because she's telling you the truth about anything, but because she's letting you know of what she does and doesn't like. Put on your headphones, crank up the landmine detector and stride boldly forth.
"He was your polar opposite," she continued. "He was completely devoted to his career, how he would advance in it and had an iron-confidence about his future that I found comforting. Too bad he turned out to be a complete control-freak, a lying asshole and a vindictive bastard." Now we were getting somewhere. The use of the words 'polar opposite' meant she liked me.
"Every bump in the road, every complication to his Master Plan required me to give up more -- to put my dreams and ambitions on hold while what he wanted had to come first. I tried to convince myself initially that things would balance out eventually. Then I thought a child would help -- it didn't. Then I wanted to formalize the death of our love in a divorce and he went ballistic.
I was making him 'look bad'. I was the impediment to his ambitions and every little crack in our marriage was my fault. I didn't try enough, he said. So, he turned our divorce a venue to punish me. I know for a fact he barely spends any time with Õnnela -- that is my daughter's name -- during her visits. Her name is Estonian for 'Luck'. Her father's name is, Sten Männik.
His father is a business partner of Father's in Estonia, which was how we met. He is a bit older -- 37, does my age bother you?" she snuck that question up on me.
"Considering my first sexual partner, my first love and my first mentor was 22 years older than me -- I must say our age difference hadn't even occurred to me," I answered truthfully.
"Who was she?" Hana nuzzled into my chest.
"Not happening. I hate it when women think I'm measuring them against other women," I dropped my chin on the top of her head. "She trained me better than that."
"We are getting married," she pressed.
"I'm not saying I'll never give you her name, tell you about her, or that I'll invite her to the wedding without your permission, but this is a talk I'd like to have with her first," I confessed. "This isn't some nostalgic emotional desire, Hana. She deserves a chance to decide if she wants to be a part of our lives."
"When can I talk with her?" Hana murmured. I lowered a hand down and pinched her ass.
"Hey!" she squeaked then play-punched me in the chest once more. The pinch assured Hana that my mind was on her. She took a deep breath.
"You smell good," she sighed. I nibbled her hair with my lips. It is actually a comforting gesture.
"Do you mind if we just sleep tonight?" she tipped back slightly so that we had eye contact. I didn't rush my answer. The truth was she looked beat.
"No," I grinned. "I mind, yet I'd better start getting used to taking your advice; so I promise to be good -- tonight." That brought out a glow of happiness. Sex -- respect. I wanted her enough to respect her wishes.
She made a perfectly normal, adult mistake. She turned and walked ahead of me to our queen-sized bed. I was a child. I big, happy-go-lucky child. I grabbed two firm handfuls of Hana-ass and squeezed.
"What!" she rewarded me with her playful outrage. She spun around. "We said 'No Sex'," she scowled.
"You agreed to 'No Sex'," she stressed her point.
"Babe, that's not sex," I insisted. "That's worship." Swat!
"You're incorrigible," she failed to stifle her grin.
"Guilty as charged," I agreed. This time she wised up, walked backwards to the bed and quickly slipped beneath the sheets.
I kept my eyes on her the whole way, staying completely motion until she was concealed.
"Damn," I mumbled. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, "
"And?" she teased.
"And brushing, flossing, shaving and taking a sponge bath. Ballistic vests are hard on the hygiene," I informed her. Hana let me off easily.
My luggage and I migrated to the bathroom. I performed my personal cleanliness duties as I weighed my options. I was a huge fan of sleeping in the nude. Since I had a pathological hatred of male pajamas (I only owned some because girls look adorable in men's PJ's), I had to choose between the 'man-package', regulation-sized and 'boy shorts' underwear scenarios in my mind.
Boy shorts came out the winner. I wanted our first sexual encounter to include rested bodies and alert minds. After all, Hana was going to have to put up with a lot of crap from me in the future, so I owed her my ultimate compassionate effort. The sleepy smile Hana gave me as I came out confirmed I'd made the right choice.
She'd already seen me naked poolside at the Sulkanen Hampton's estate. She'd worn her enticing wear to do just that -- entice. I'd been enticed -- mission accomplished. Now she wanted sleep and I was barely clothed enough to convince her that that was where we were going. I so wanted to crawl into bed over her, but I figured my self-control had been strained enough for the past 48 hours.
I cut off the lights, crawled into bed beside her and immediately scooted over to her side. It took her a second to figure out my motives were pure (for me). She rolled over, draping her right leg over my right and her right hand came to rest on my sternum. I was still getting used to her hair on my shoulder when I heard her first, soft snore.
The night was long for me. My mind kept operating at close to peak capacity. I had to figure out what Grandfather was up to, and without resorting to his rationality. His 'logic' was corrosive to my passionate dreams for a future. I absorbed some of that cruel mechanism by studying the sleeping Hana. Not in the 'creepy, Twilight vampire hovering over the virgin's bed while she slept' way.
I studied her breathing patterns and how she responded to my touch, to my own breathing and how she moved in her sleep, so I could be a better match for her. I also discovered one of her obvious flaws. All girls have flaws. If you find a perfect woman, run away. She's a sociopath who has mastered the art of 'playing human'. You aren't long for this World if you stick around.
Hana's first flaw that I came across was chilling. Really chilling. The woman had ice-packs for feet. Damn, we were in Italy with the windows slightly open in summer and I wanted to get on my sheep skin boots, except an ex-GF filled them with horse manure and I could never get the stink out of them. I had an answer to this problem.
Over a period of thirty minutes, I slowly untangled us, edged her along until we were spooning then bent her knees away from me until I could press the top of my feet against the soles of hers. Five minutes after that, she backed into me and murmured with contentment while still remaining deeply asleep. Without much though, I wrapped my left arm around her so she could feel snug.
What the hell. I wasn't a total jerk all the time and it made Hana happy and more comfortable without costing me a damn thing. To be fair, the situation did arouse my cock-master, who insistently informed me that not having sex in 48 hours (without being in a coma) was against the executive power-sharing agreement we'd made when I was eighteen.
Thankfully, sleeping Hana didn't mind the Magyar-Irish-Genetic Monster sausage that blossomed between us. She actually wiggled against it a few times over those long torturous hours as she slept. A happy thought occurred to me before dawn. Hana wasn't the bar/party kind of girl so odds were great she hadn't had sex since her divorce three years ago. Yay!
My thoughts were not totally devoted to sex, Hana, and sex with Hana. My growing maturity also went over the political and physical fights I had been in. All those dead Seven Pillar operatives, the ridge, Charlotte, the dead Mycenaean five steps away on top of the an equally dead Romanians. I had to organize that pain and those images. I had to find my own way to deal.
Violence would not stop being a part of my life. I knew with Alal's mind how he regarded this Long Peace. It hadn't been all that peaceful, but that wasn't the point. The key factor was that today, the people at the helms of all those nations and economic entities didn't know what a real war was like.
Things like 'National Effort' were slogans for social programs, or relegated to the history books. The world was full of vicious bastards and bitches who were ready, willing and eager to use death and fear to advance their goals. Their numbers were magnified by the millions upon millions of lives they impacted.
As Alal said, there are times when you needed 'wolves'. You couldn't defeat a pack of wolves with a flock of sheep. That was one of his chief issues with mankind. That they took a theory of physiological change and transferred it to the social arena. Alal didn't believe you could remove the violence from the society and expect it to survive.
It was the age old equation of civilized, pre-mediated violence. Someone had something you wanted. If you thought you could overwhelm this enemy with an acceptable loss of life to your side, why wouldn't you take it? There had always been far more sheep than wolves, but you needed the wolves, despite the danger of keeping them close.
In Alal's mind, Napoleon Bonaparte demonstrated the correctness of his theories in 1799 and the rest of Europe had been stacking proof upon proof for a hundred and fifty years after that. The British Empire hadn't been built on trade. It had been built by trade enforced at the end of the barrel of a gun or cannon. The Hindu and Islamic leaders of India did not flock to the British Raj. They gave up varying portions of their independence because they knew what the British would do to them, eventually, if they resisted. Africa was the same way.
In China, the English fought two Opium Wars to force the Chinese to pay for the privilege of buying the catalyst for the destruction of millions of individual lives and the moral and social decay of their culture. Britain had wolves. Wolves had run rampant across the globe. The Manchus had been wolves back in the 17th century. The Qing (Manchu) Dynasty that the British founded had caged those wolves, until the cage broke and the wolves ran free. When the Qing needed them, their loyal wolves were too few, while the rest were running out of control in the countryside.
In Europe the pattern went from small, professional armies with mercenary cores to massive conscripted armies powered by the advent of the Industrial Age. This new creation of the Napoleonic Age birthed wolves among the sheep. Both had died in great numbers until, after 16 years of war, the French wolves ran out of fight. But old wolves trained new wolves and sheep could always be rounded up for a fight. Every conflict up to September 1945 verified the validity of that pattern. From sheep sprang the wolves that filled the ranks of Paratroopers, Guards, Commandoes, Rangers and the first Kamikaze.
At the end of World War II, the sheep rose up within the great powers. They were tired of wolves, not accepting that it had been the sheep sending the wolves to war for most of the Imperial Age. You don't think so? Only one world leader wanted World War I, and that was Kaiser Wilhelm; a child-like autocrat, not a wolf.
No. The French and English leaders didn't want a war. Sure, they'd been in an arms race for over a decade, but it was nationalism that drove the sheep to bleat for war. Tsar Nicolas II and the Russian elite were actually a rather dissipated lot and far removed from the men who had thrown off the Tartar Yoke centuries earlier. They had lumbered like a crippled, blind Brown Bear over the precipice.
Why did the Russians find themselves in a war? Serbia and some vague idea of a Pan-Slavic Identity. In Russia, it was the sheep leading the sheep and the disaster was far too predictable. In fact, in the first three months of the war, only one nation had accomplished its objectives ~ the little Kingdom of Serbia.
By the end of 1945, it was almost over; only China and its Civil War remained to sputter on for four more years. For the most part, the sheep agreed to chain up their wolves. The atomic age had made the prospect of war too dangerous, or so we were told. The voices of the wolves were only heard in the distance. The sheep wanted to be the only ones allowed to vote.
Liberal Democracy claimed an empty victory in 1991. They had won the peace without raising a finger, if you ignored the hundreds of 'brushfire' wars that sprang up continuously. After the Cold War, the sheep focused almost all they had on taking care of the sheep. This was Alal's view of things, and though I disagreed with him, I needed to know what directed his thinking. It was an unhappy night piled upon two unhappy days.
(Dawn)
"You can stop faking being asleep," I whispered in her ear. "I can hear your heart beating and your breathing gaining strength."
"Does it occur to you that that sounds vaguely spooky?" she answered without moving.
"I want to talk with you. Talking 'at' you isn't nearly as fulfilling," I kissed the back of her left ear.
"Wow, ," she sighed. "You are really good at this interrelations thing. All the women in your life warned me about this; yet even forearmed, I'm impressed."
"Women are easy to impress," I began. I let that hang there for a few seconds. "Rule #1, don't try to get inside a woman's head. Instead, learn by studying their reactions and build from there." Pause.
"Are you playing me right now?" she inquired softly. Ah, this morning's first hurdle.
"Yes and no," I treaded carefully. Hana was a savvy businesswoman and that entailed her seeing bullshit as bullshit. "I'm engaging you and that's my genuine desire. Am I using some of my 'girl-friendly' techniques to do so? Yes."
"You are a very dangerous young man," she chided me. "Do you think you might come to love me?"
"Could I? Should I? Would both of us be better off if we avoided falling in love?" I said softly. "I'd like to be in love with you, Hana. I think I'd like it if you were in love with me too. I'd like to be sure we love one another for the right reasons?"
"What would be the right reasons?" she asked after she wiggled around until we were face to face.
"I'm not sure what the right reasons are. I've never been in love. I don't want us to think we've fallen in love out of loneliness and fear," I reasoned. "Obligation isn't going to cut it."
"I'd be foolish to believe that you lying to me would have been better," she smiled. "We both know that outside of business concerns, you are far better with the opposite sex than I am. My problems are," she continued. I knew what she thought her 'problems' were. However, interrupting would have tipped her off that I had gotten inside her defenses. That would have been both cruel and stupid.
", that I, I know I'm outmatched in this relationship. And that annoys me. I like being in control of my life and my environment, and that doesn't include a twenty-two year old, you. I also know I'm dealing with all the issues of my first, failed marriage." I decided not to lie.
"You forgot one," I stated before I kissed her lightly on the lips.
"What would that be?" she asked, then returned my kiss.
"Every man in your life has to measure up to Jormo," I told her. "He's the standard by which all the rest of us are measured. Dumb-ass Sten failed to live up to your father. We both know that. In a way, even he probably sensed it. He couldn't live up to Jormo and he felt less of a man because of that."
"You are saying that the failure of my marriage was my fault?" she concentrated on my reaction. If she'd been angry and/or insulted, I would have understood. Nine out of ten women would have. Instead, Hana was giving me more respect than any, no, not anymore. I knew more than a double handful of women who respected me now. That was not something I'd ever wanted.
But I was getting a lot of the 'I didn't want this, yet here it is' in my life. Whining about something of value wouldn't help.
"No. I believe you would have stuck it out with Sten if he'd met you half way. He decided he was less than Jormo, when he wasn't -- not initially," I explained.
"He chose to challenge a phantom, an ideal of someone in your mind. That is egocentric thinking. He should have proven to you what a good man Sten could be, started a new chapter in your life and given you a chance to be both Sten's wife and Jormo's daughter," I gave her my opinion.
"Do you think I'm comparing you to my Father?"
"Yes. It is a very human thing to do. I still believe you'll give me a chance to prove I'm the best me you'll ever find," I answered.
"You are a very clever man, Hercege Cáel Nyilas," she purred. Now I was sure she was too good for me. She and Odette both.
"I'm sorry I never met your Mother and Father. You've met Jormo. You should meet the other side of my family as well," she kissed me with a bit more self-assurance. She was checking off the talking points she wanted addressed. "My Mother, brother and half-sisters. They are off-limits, by the way." Way too good for me.
"I make no promises," I kissed her back. "I'll do my best, sometimes I'll need help staying on the straight and narrow. Mom," I sighed. "My Mom is a talk for another time. Father, Ferko Nyilas, he is the best man I've ever known and I never really understood that until he passed. To me, he's my Jormo, just ten times better."
"This argument over who has the better father -- I do -- is over," she kissed me with greater hunger. "Can't we do something else?" Oh Hell Yeah! I knew my Dad was better than hers. I also knew that if I ignored the carnal needs of a beautiful woman in order to argue about something I knew to be true, it would have stigmatized me as an idiot in my Old Man's eyes. I like to think I made him very pleased with me, instead. I know Hana was.
(Back Home with a New Team, one week after Rome)
If you ask any entity for something you already know they aren't going to give you, but you do so believing their denial equates to your freedom, I suppose you only have yourself to blame if they deliver. It was totally rational for me to assume that if I asked, nay demanded of the taskforce sponsors a semi-autonomous status inside the greater geopolitical arena, the nations I was acquainted with would refuse.
After all, I remained an inexperienced young man with a relatively unknown and unspectacular intellectual career. And I WANTED out, or, more like maybe a vacation, R&R, or a Spa Weekend, filled with naked women, well, Pamela suggested that I had a pathetic work ethic unless women were involved, so a productive R&R would need naked women.
I had a new and profound respect for the people in the services who spend week after week after week in hostile territory. Four whole days in Europe were enough to make me want to throw in the towel. Colour Sgt. Chaz did offer me some comfort. He pointed out that I had managed to be in four firefights within 72 hours in an otherwise peaceful part of the world (Central Europe) the Metro station on the first afternoon, the club later that night, the inn the next morning and the bloodbath in Romania the evening of the third day.
And we managed to avoid a firefight with Alal's people in Rome. Statistically, it was safer to be in the Eastern Ukraine than standing next to me. Chaz claimed that he'd spent weeks in Afghanistan feeling more at ease than he did working this assignment. He then told me that while serving with me, he had no doubt that he was making a world of difference. That the unease was something he, and every other professional military specialist, could deal with if they were on a mission they believed in.
Somehow, I thought he meant that as a compliment. But it rubbed salt into the hole in my soul where 'live and let live' had once flourished when he pointed out that 'real' soldiers honestly liked and respected me. I didn't blubber with worry about him being wrong, I was certain my missions did have a purpose. I just worried about whether I was really making the world a better place.
I certainly felt I was completely unworthy of such camaraderie and faith, so I was engineering my expulsion from Unit L before I put my friends into another desperate life and death struggle. I had pushed all the right buttons and I was getting ready for returning to the comfort of walking to places on my own. I was supremely confident that my odious insult to the sponsors' view of how the world should work was going get me benched.
No. The US and UK decided to accede to my outrageous demands, namely the authority to screen, hire and fire people from Unit L and to be consulted before anyone was added to the Joint (US agencies) International (US/UK/9Clans/Amazon) Khanate Interim Taskforce (JIKIT). I wanted to be the Uber-Tyrant of Unit L, JIKIT's 'action' section. Their counter-offer agreed to all my wishes with only one exception.
I hated the fact that the one exception to my control made so much sense I couldn't get around it. I mean, she wasn't from either of my 'home' states (New Hampshire and Illinois), but she was from my neighborhood, a sitting US Senator from the Great State of Maine. Mutter, mutter, mutter. I made sure FP Javiera Costello was still the taskforce's leader, which helped me cope.
Why was Senator Susan Collins (R-Maine, Age 61) in my orbit? Javiera and Katrina thought I needed someone to ride herd on me; someone who I would both respect and not want to sleep with (didn't they realize that married and between 18 and 65 was still in my target zone?). Then there was the fact that she was on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence (the real reason she was with the JIKIT) and I was endangering World Peace every time I took a breath.
Normally, Senators don't work with clandestine government taskforces. Normally, five nuclear powers don't have their fingers on the atomic button either. The PRC, the Russian Federation, the Khanate (a lie ~ which the Great Khan let me in on), Pakistan and India now did. Who had invited the subcontinent to the party? I had.
Like every good beef cow, I was walking straight into the hammer-gun, slightly suspicious that something was wrong, but all I could see was the ass-end of the heifer in front of me. A week ago, when I walked into my place, Timothy wrapped me and Odette in one mighty bear hug. As Odette began bringing out all the gifts she'd brought Timothy (with my money) from abroad, he handed me a disposable cell phone.
To be continued.
By FinalStand, for Literotica