Today, the band of mountain guerrillas was lazily smoking marijuana secure in the knowledge that they were safely camped in highlands of the Andes. Little did they know that their safety would be jeopardized the moment they captured the American oilman from the back of his truck after shooting the driver and two locals.
Immediately after making contact with the outside world for ransom of their captor, the sophisticated satellite equipment of the American government had a “bead” on the guerilla soldiers. Their activities were monitored for one week before the private special ops unit invaded their territory.
Slater studied the movements of the guerrillas through field glasses. It wasn’t long before he spotted the American tied to the tree like a dog. He looked grungy and dirty with two weeks growth of beard. He was a little thin, but otherwise seemed unharmed physically. It was not a pleasant position, which to be put. The daily harassment from lunatic banditos was beginning to show. Hopefully, he could arise to the occasion and with the prospect of freedom would not be too weak to keep up with the ops unit and “Get out of Dodge”.
Slater and his buddies surrounded the camp carefully. They would wait until dark to make their move. Wearing night goggles, they were able to position themselves for any attack that would occur. Slater would free the prisoner. With luck, he would silently cut him loose and no one would be the wiser until morning. Unfortunately, that was usually the exception rather than the rule. As night fell, the victim was moved into a rough shelter, making the issue slightly more complicated.
The unit waited in tense silence, observing the camp, counting the guerrillas, and listening to the spoken Spanish. Each man of the SEALS’ unit spoke fluent Spanish as well as several other languages. They were all highly intelligent---which was just another reason that they were extremely lethal to their enemy. They were always in full battle-rattle gear with their flak vests and M-4 machine guns that had been modified to also include a grenade launcher. It is a heavy, but effective weapon and this crew did not use it as pray and spray artillery. They were deadly and accurate with their target.
As the sun was going down and boredom set in combined with a little tequila, an argument broke out between two guerrillas. It wasn’t long before all were entertained with a knife fight, which left one of the guerrillas dead. No one seemed particularly concerned. Life was not real important to this bunch unless it was their own.
Once the camp settled down for the night, the unit would execute their plan. They would know the exact position of each smarmy terrorist before the attack began and dispose of them if necessary.
As the dawn jungle sounds began their nightly ritual, the soldiers prepared to launch their attack when a guerrilla operative wondered into the jungle to urinate near Bear---that was his misfortune. The guard near the captured oilman soon fell asleep---that was his misfortune as well.
Inside the makeshift shelter, Slater touched the shoulder of the kidnapped victim. He jumped in surprised and then slumped in relief as he realized he was in the presence of an American soldier. After cutting the leather bindings from the hands and feet of the guerrilla victim, Slater helped him stand and get his circulation flowing. It was at that moment that a bandito guarding the perimeter must have stumbled over the dead body of his comrade. An alert was sounded and all hell broke loose.
Bear and Dog immediately created a diversion. Grenades and a few other fireworks got the attention of the camp banditos. They soon muddled through their tequila fog and immerged on the fight scene with all the savageness they could muster.
Eight dead guerrilla banditos were left behind as the three American soldiers and their kidnapped victim dissolved into the jungle terrain. They were too fast, too deadly, and left too many bodies to be followed. They were long gone before the guerrilla terrorists could regroup.
The oilman was a little shook and weak, but the thought of freedom gave him the needed boost of energy. With the help of night goggles, the group navigated steadily through the dark jungle floor with him. An hour later, they rendezvoused with the night bird chopper at the intended time and climbed into the open pit of the helicopter.
It would take three hours to get back to civilization and board a plane to the States. As the dose of adrenaline calmed, each man put the night behind them and began to doze as they hummed back to a military site. From there, they would catch a commercial plane from the city of Bogotá.
Slater’s nap was restless as memories of a beautiful redhead on another chopper percolated through his subconscious. It was a little longer before the blessed darkness of sleep took him out of his misery.
CHAPTER 20
It was a beautiful Saturday spring morning in Newport Beach. Slater decided to walk down to the local coffee shop from his lush penthouse apartment that overlooked the ocean to Catalina. As he picked up the LA Times, he glanced at the array of magazines that lined the open stand. It was the April issue of some fashion magazine that captured his attention. A redhead with aqua eyes graced the cover and stared back at him. He would know those eyes anywhere. He remained frozen in time absorbing the face and figure of the woman that he had erased from his conscious memory. In slow motion he reached out to touch her. He surprised himself by soon leaving with both the newspaper and magazine tucked under his arm.
Once Slater was back in the his posh apartment, he threw the magazine down on the fine brown leather couch with pillows made from woven Khalin rugs in rust, deep brown, and navy blue. His condo was his grand retreat from the world when he needed it. Three condos were put together to achieve a spacious and panoramic effect. It was elegantly decorated for a macho man.
The deep chocolate brown wooden floors gave an almost dull sheen of blackness. They were covered with Persian rugs from all over the world giving it a warm masculine feeling that was fit for an Arabian king.
The walls of Slater’s condo were a light gray adorned with a variety of tasteful and colorful expensive art throughout the house. He was especially proud of the calendar women of Vargas originals that adorned his bath with the sunken tub. Flat screen TVs and fireplaces were included in all the baths that kept a constant update on world events.
A few old world antiques from France and England graced a corner or two to give Slater’s private home the needed accent of perfection. They were elegant and expensive.
A large “cooler” room held wine that set on the tables of only the very rich and affluent. It was Slater’s special reserve.
A sleek modern bedroom held an oversized king bedroom set. The headboard was a narrow aquarium of salt-water fish. It was anchored to the wall and was as wide as the bed reaching to the top of the ceiling. It contained colorful coral and Caribbean fish of royal blue, bright yellow, orange stripes, and other exotic animals that live in the sea.
The fish were fed from a workout room behind Slater’s bed. The exercise room had all the latest equipment and was part of the bedroom that gave him a spectacular ocean view, but running on the beach was more exhilarating than his treadmill unless the weather did not permit. That was rare.
A hot tub, which was often used for many decadent moments, rested on the balcony among the palms. It also had its own flat screen T.V. and fireplace. It most definitely was a party pad.
A full sized kitchen with cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and black and gray swirling granite completed Slater’s cozy set up. It was used by a middle aged cook that came during the day. She cooked his meals, washed his bed, and kept his home clean and neat. She also took care of his fish and Caesar, his hefty Doberman that adored him and yet demanded very little from him except for an occasional pat on the head and a daily jog on the beach.
This morning, he was not enjoying his luxury bachelor pad. It more than annoyed him that he was perturbed by the face that now was on his coffee table staring back at him. Unable to control himself, he reached for the magazine and began to thumb through it until he reached the pictures of Swan. She was doing a swimsuit layout somewhere in the Caribbean w
ith the white sands, clear aqua water, and sunny blue sky. She stood in a skimpy bikini on a sandy mound looking out over the Caribbean Sea. Her gorgeous long hair with the bird of paradise flower was tucked behind one ear. It blew lazily in the breeze along with the backdrop of the island palms. The aqua crocheted bikini covered very little of her womanly assets. It did not take much imagination to remember the large nipples and long legs that wrapped around him. A muscular male model stood directly behind her with his disgusting lips on her long neck. Swan smiled sweetly with half closed lids looking fully recovered. She seemed to be enjoying herself. That rather pissed him off!
Slater threw the magazine down again in disgust and walked out on the balcony for a smoke. What he didn’t know is that the Caribbean photo shoot had taken place last
fall, six months before it was to appear in the spring magazine issue and three months before the fatal airline disaster.
CHAPTER 21
Swan pulled back the delicate white muslin drape that covered the panoramic view of the Pacific. They let in light and still gave her privacy when needed. She stared out the window of her glass doors that overlooked the ocean , but her vacant eyes still held no vision. She could only imagine the frothy tide as it rippled down the sandy beach and roared back to the yawning ocean beyond.
Swan had spent two months going to every appointment with every ophthalmologist in the Los Angeles area that was a world expert in their field. They all seemed to have the same conclusion of “wait and see”. She thought that that was a rather laughable phrase considering that was literally the state, which she did not find herself. She was frustrated and upset. Lately, she seemed to be in a continual state of nausea as well. Had it not been for her friend, Kat, she would have totally freaked-out.
Kat lived in a luxury home nearby. It was fortunate for Swan that she was in-between-lovers and not at her second home in southern Italy. Kat had replaced Ace for her temporary lifeline. She organized Swan’s apartment for her, took her to doctor appointments, and helped her with her darkness. Through sheer determination, Swan began to pull herself together and take complete control of her life. She did not remain helpless long. She learned from the organization for the visual impaired how to live in a world of blackness. Once she was resigned to a possibility of a lifetime of blindness, she soon learned to adapt to what was a strong possibility of normalcy for the rest of her life.
Swan’s apartment was not arranged too differently. Too much rearranging would only disturb her equilibrium and cause her to feel totally lost in her own surrounds. But, certain concessions had to be made in order to make it more functional. She could only picture the Brazilin cherry floors and the few changes that Kat had made.
Swan’s pleasant luxury apartment was painted a soft yellow with white ornate molding above doors and at the top around each wall. Her artwork was bright and cheery. The bright colors made her feel happy and brought joy to the life that she had created. A Chihuly masterpiece of hand blown colored glass hung over the Biedermeier table in the dining room. The beveled glass mirrors on three walls of the dining room were in six-inch sections that reflected a view of Catalina and the Pacific. A few expensive Venetian glass pieces and Lalique collections graced the antique tables as well.
Throughout Swan’s home, she had large needlepoint rugs that complimented her floors and walls. The rug in the dining room was cream with a wide leopard border, while others were made with individual designs of soft colorful flowers that popped of red, magenta, yellow, and palm green.
From the floor to ceiling hung brightly colored vintage posters that covered the walls which were mixed-in with original pastels from Paris, Madrid, and Rome. Some watercolors captured the scenes from the cities and others were a reminder of the beautiful flower gardens and vineyards that were scattered about the European countryside. When Swan was sad, they would always help her escape to the wonderful thoughts of eating gelato with friends on the cobblestone streets of Rome, listening to music on the streets of Paris, and hearing the street vendors of Spain as they carried baskets of fish on their heads. All of the posters and pastels held special moments and memories; especially, the fountains and statues of Rome.
If Swan thought about it long enough, she could hear the rush of traffic as the citizens of Italy honked their horns from their little Smart cars or blared off on their motor scooters with their high heels and mini-skirts. She could almost taste the wine and smell the aroma of Italian pizzas. It was these little parts of Europe that were helping her cope with this difficult time in her life and adjust to a sightless future.
Swan turned on her sound system that played a relaxing Mozart. She then sat down on her soft butter cream suede couch with cheetah print pillows that had red-orange cording and beading, which complimented the soft cushy chairs on each side of the fireplace. She felt for a coaster on the Biedermeier end table to set her tea upon the tortoise shell look-a-like glass coffee table in front of her. She could only smell the multi-colored fresh bouquet of flowers that Maria, the maid, had placed in the center.
As Swan snuggled her toes in a vintage skinned zebra rug that she had found in an obscure antique shop on the streets of New York, she found herself beginning to appreciate her surroundings more and more by developing a keen sense of her other senses. She could even picture the white alabaster fireplace that set opposite her and the large gold leaf framed mirror from Italy that hung above it. She could see the leopard chair, which sat Cleopatra, her white Persian cat, grooming her long fluffy fur. She began to sip her English tea and it wasn’t long before Cleopatra joined her on the couch seeking attention from the mistress of the house.
Lost in thought, Swan began to plan for her future. Money was not a problem as she had invested large hunks of money from her modeling with a very savvy financial adviser. He had secured her for the present and for the future with his wise investments and retirement plan. He had insisted that she pay cash for her fabulous apartment. He gambled that the interest rates and housing would go up. Little did they know that property value on the east and west coast would triple in value within the next two years and that it would be a lucrative decision for her. She would still be able to continue her life style and hire a housekeeper and cook full time.
A small apartment was at the back of Swan’s condo. It was on the opposite side of her bedroom for her housekeeper, Maria, who was recently widowed. This living arrangement would allow Maria to have a rent-free dwelling of her own and not have to worry about ever living with her children. It was a workable arrangement for the mistress and the maid. It was a comfort to both of them to know that someone was nearby that seemed to care.
CHAPTER 22
The first thing that Swan did the next morning was make an appointment with her internist. Disregarding an occasional headache and total blindness, she just had not been feeling like herself for the past month. She seemed extra tired and a little like she had a virus.
Swan had taken a taxi to the office of internal medicine. On their way to the medical building, the taxi passed several tourists, locals, including a man jogging with his happy Doberman heading for the beach. After paying the taxi driver from bills folded a certain way to indicate the denomination, Swan made her way to the office of the medical building.
Climbing the steps into the large five-story building, Swan was feeling rather proud of having found the elevator. She felt for the button that went to the third floor. She used her white cane to get herself to the reception desk and announce her presence to the office clerk. Having found the nearest chair, she sat down.
Even though Swan wore her designer sunglasses she could feel the rude stares of other patients---funny how she was even aware when the novelty of a blind person in their presence wore off and they looked away engrossing themselves in a People or Entertainment magazine. It wasn’t long before the nurse called her name, guided her to a room at the back, gave her a medical gown, made sure she was comfortable, and shut the door behind her.
Swa
n could hear the quiet murmur of voices in the next room. If she didn’t breathe she could almost make out what was being said. A few minutes later a door shut quietly and footsteps approached her door. The doctor made a ten second read of the file that was placed outside the examining room and entered with a quiet knock.
Doctor Maggie was always very considerate and thoughtful. It was easy to have a good relationship with her. She understood the white coat syndrome and always tried to make her patients feel as comfortable as possible. Today was no different. Swan had been going to her for a very long time.
Taking Swan’s hand for reassurance, Dr. Maggie expressed her sadness of the accident and then moved on to her professional self. Having told the doctor her symptoms of lethargy and nausea, Swan expressed her concern that the concussion was affecting more than her sight. The doctor listened to her vital signs and felt her tummy. She then ordered a blood and urine test to be rushed to the lab. She was soon finished and told Swan to get dressed and meet her in her office. When Swan was ready, a nurse appeared to guide her down the hall and into an office leather chair.
It was a while later before a shocked Swan left the medical facility. With the name of an obstetrician in one hand, she slowly made her way down the handicap ramp. She was trying not to go into shock as she moved along like an old woman putting one foot down in front of the other in a very mechanical gait. She felt that the unbelievable had happened and she was having a hard time getting her mind around the grim fact. Ace apparently had a very potent sperm count and she was three months pregnant. She would be a mother by fall.
CHAPTER 23
Slater needed some R&R at his working Malibu ranch north of LA. He fired up his twin-engine private plane and headed for his Yucca Point Ranch near the small coastal city of Malibu with his Doberman companion, Caesar. He landed on his private runway just in time to see the lavender and magenta sunset crisscross the rolling Pacific.
Champagne Romance (Romance Novel) Page 6