Cobalt

by Shelley Grace

  Rick leant forward, so that his lips almost touched hers. ‘Don’t say things you don’t mean Madeline,’ he responded in a low, dangerous voice. ‘You would never give me that kind of power.’

  ‘Oh, I mean every word.’ She answered, raising her head so that her lips brushed against his. ‘You currently have my undivided attention and cooperation. Do what you want and do it now.’

  Rick smiled to himself as his fantasy began to take shape further. He was just watching his fantasy self move in for the kill when he was pulled back to reality by Madeline jabbing him in the side with her elbow. His eyes flew open and he looked at her. I can’t even imagine having sex with you went I want, he thought, as he looked at her. There was a smile on her lips. ‘What? What’s so funny?’ He asked assessing her expression.

  ‘You weren’t thinking about the task ahead, were you?’ She looked deeply into his eyes, reading him. He couldn’t lie to her when she did that.

  ‘No. I was, well.’ He shifted slightly in his seat. ‘Want to join the mile high club?’ He winked, knowing she knew what he had been thinking about, hoping she was over their earlier conversation.

  ‘I think not.’ She answered smiling. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked at him.

  ‘No one knows us.’ He tried, unsuccessfully.

  ‘Just go to sleep.’ She laughed. ‘You know you are hopeless, don’t you?’

  ‘I do try.’ Rick responded.

  ‘Yes, you are very trying, I’ll give you that. Go to sleep.’ She turned to face away from him, leaving him to his thoughts. The fantasy was gone. What he really wanted was the flesh and blood woman sitting beside him. She had other plans, however. He leant over and kissed her cheek gently. Madeline smiled slightly before turning back to face him. ‘Go to sleep.’ She stated, ordering him to comply. He smiled at her and then closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER 5

  Teslovich sat, reclined in his black leather executive office chair staring out of the window, towards Red Square, drinking Johnny Walker Black Label, no Vodka for this Russian, he thought. It was too cliché. Evil Russian drinking vodka, only in James Bond 007 films. Besides after years in America he had developed a taste for the refined flavour of Black Label, and with his constant global travel he could buy cases cheaply, particularly from Italy. Teslovich always made it a point to have his pilots fly his private helicopter to San Marino when in Italy. It was a beautiful city-state within the region of L’Aquila. A city-state that like Monaco governed itself, had no taxes and sold Johnny Walker for five Euro…a mere fraction of its resale value. He always bought ten cases whenever he went to San Marino. He also bought cases of Cognac, Rum, good Italian wine, Moet and Amaretto – alcohol he could readily sell back in Russian. Ah Russia, thank the lord for communism and corrupt politicians. It was this that made his life so wonderful. Living off of others misfortunes…

  Teslovich was feeling exhilarated after destroying the Ninth Street bus station. The group had been inactive for far too long. Destruction meant power, and Teslovich felt as though the whole world was beneath his feet. The view from his twelfth floor office also added to the illusion. Taking a long gulp of his iced scotch, Teslovich eased back further into the chair, swinging his feet onto the top of his desk. Until Kellerin contacted him, Teslovich had been operating his antique business. As far as the authorities knew it was a legitimate business, run by a shrewd, but honest businessman. Little did they know the furniture, statues and other exotic merchandise provided Teslovich the means to ship drugs and weaponry into Russia, and internationally. The employees of Teslovich’s enterprise were also under the impression that they were working in a legitimate business. As far as they were concerned Teslovich’s latest absence was due to a promotional and purchasing trip to China, not the terrorist mission on American soil, in which he had participated. His mobile rang beside him. Teslovich answered it slowly, sipping the Black Label once more.

  ‘Teslovich, it is said that the Red Baron landed in Red Square.’

  ‘Had I had my way he would not have taken off from it.’

  ‘Ah, Comrade it is wonderful to hear from you. The mission was a complete success, however, my informant tells me that Director Shaw has sent Deputy Director Glazer and the delectable Madeline after you. So now my friend I must warn you. Be careful.’

  ‘Sir, I do not fear the CIA. I have outsmarted the likes of them on many occasions.’ Teslovich smirked. He saw no reason to worry. It was one man and a woman that pursued him. ‘A woman?’ He questioned somewhat amused at the serious tone his superior took. The thought of a woman tracking him soothed any doubts he had felt when Kellerin informed him of the pursuit.

  ‘You do not realise the severity of the situation. Madeline, though beautiful, is the most resourceful and intelligent creature I have had the pleasure of studying. Do not underestimate her.’ Kellerin had often thought that should Madeline ever join his syndicate, they would make an unstoppable team. Intelligence and beauty, a dangerous combination under the simplest circumstance, let alone on a crusade to shape and control the world. ‘A lot rides on your ability to distract Madeline and Deputy Director Glazer. They are by far the best to emerge from the CIA, or any other law enforcement agency. It is imperative that you keep them following you until the last possible second, before you join us in our endeavour to alert the American President to the situation at hand. Remember, stay two steps ahead of them. I will contact you soon. Again my friend, be careful.’ Teslovich dropped the phone on the desk beside him and turned back to face out the window. From where he sat the Kremlin, once the powerful centre of government for the entire Union of Soviet Socialist Republics before its dissolution in 1991, stood opposite him, and only a few blocks away. Teslovich reminisced, when the USSR had been at its peak this situation would never have touched the Great Sleeping Bear. Russia had been great then. Napoleon had been unable to defeat it, as had Hitler. Now his Russia was to fall to the US and it’s work treaty. Teslovich gulped down the remainder of his scotch and turned to his left to face St Basil’s multi-coloured onion shaped domes. The cathedral contained some of the most unique architecture in the entire world. It would be a tragedy to see such a great building crumble, but with the economy disintegrating, Teslovich saw it inevitable. In his mind it was the US/Russia work treaty that was destroying the economy and it was his mission to see the treaty destroyed. CIA or not, he would see Mother Russia returned to its once all powerful state, and Teslovich vowed, he would not be stopped by a mere woman.

  CHAPTER 6

  Marcus and Lychart had been busy all afternoon creating a profile on Kellerin and his men, to send to the White House. Dominic Kellerin was someone the CIA had dealt with on many occasions. While they, or any other law enforcement agency located on four continents, had never been able to capture the terrorist, they had completed a large file on the man. And from hits recorded hits in Africa, Europe, America and Asia, they were now able to identify his actions, a mile away. Kellerin usually operated on a relatively small scale. He was more about money, than killing. His choice of weapon was a black bag filled with plastic explosive surrounded by nails and ball-bearings. It was known that when planting these devices, Kellerin often did the task himself. The only problem was that the CIA, and all other investigative forces involved, didn’t know of his planned actions until it was far too late. Then all that was left for them to do was clean up the mess.

  Madeline had been following Kellerin for some time now. She was tuned into his thoughts and feelings. Of anyone in the CIA, Madeline knew she was the only one who stood a chance at catching Kellerin. In Marcus’s search of the database the CIA had created on Kellerin, he had run across the profile Madeline had made. Drawing from all available resources, world-wide, she had been able to detail every event he had ever been involved in, from his debut protesting the Vietnam war, to this latest bombing. Kellerin, a devout catholic, had begun his causes fighting for freedom in his naïve Ireland, but as the religious battles in Northern Ireland drew no clos
er to resolution Kellerin grew disheartened. He wanted to make a difference. As his notoriety grew, his ability to deliver pin-point lethal blows to his enemy became known Kellerin became a highly regarded and respected hit-man. Kellerin’s first recorded kill was when Kellerin was only sixteen years old. Authorities had been chasing Kellerin for thirty years now. Throughout his thirty history as a global terrorist Kellerin had been active about nearly every issue known to man-kind, from the environment to the disadvantages Russia had compared to America in the space race. The production of nuclear weapons, to the forced signing of global disarmament treaties. Kellerin acted either on his own principles or on behalf of the highest bidder. He who held the money controlled Kellerin, and while Kellerin believed in some of his causes it became obvious by his contradicting fights, that where a paid job was concerned, his personal feelings had little relevance. Kellerin’s agenda, however, never changed. It was his belief that no matter the cause death was a last resort, particularly the deaths of innocent bystanders. Kellerin was a businessman and a strategist, not a cold-blooded homicidal maniac. All his hits were well planned and finalised so that the casualties were the lowest that they possibly could be, and that damage- public or personal- was also on a small, yet attention-demanding scale.

  As Marcus had read Madeline’s profile he began to see why his fellow terrorists saw Kellerin as a modern day Robin Hood. His actions were for the greater good, and while they were not noble, they were effective. When he had found himself looking at Kellerin as a Martyr he reread the list of Kellerin’s convictions, and discovered that not once had Madeline insinuated that Kellerin should go unpunished, as he had imagined reading. Whether or not his cause was just, Kellerin did inflict unnecessarily acts of violence, and as Madeline’s notes pointed out he was a killer, a ruthless one at that. Madeline’s profile also detailed Kellerin’s chosen associates physically and psychologically. Kellerin’s main associate was a well-known anti-American activist known as Comrade Michlov Teslovich. It was he Marcus believed Madeline was on the trail of. Teslovich was sloppier in his actions than Kellerin, so he was the more logical choice to track. By capturing Teslovich, Madeline hoped to be able to pin-point Kellerin, and bring him to justice.

  CHAPTER 7

  Madeline and Rick surveyed the small apartment they had rented, in Moscow. Through the adjoining door they could see the small, but adequate bedroom. A chair sat by the balcony door, and apart from a television, only a lounge, small bar-fridge and a coffee table adorned the compact room. The walls were painted a yellowish-white colour, that contrasted greatly with the pale blue carpet and furniture. The decorations were sparse - a vase of dusty, imitation flowers sat on the television set, and a painting of a colourful fruit basket hung above the refrigerator in what was considered to be the kitchenette. Rick guessed that if he was to look in one of the draws beside the bed, he would have found a bible, printed in Russian, of course.

  Madeline left Rick to set up their communications equipment - which consisted of her Toshiba lap-top computer with built in modem, and a small satellite dish, about the size of an apple, for instant internet up-link - on the coffee table while she went and had a shower. They were in for a long wait, and after a long flight all she wanted was a shower and a change of clothes. Clean clothes.

  After the shower Madeline headed out into the lounge to wait with Rick. A standard procedure up-date was due anytime, but whether it would be in the next few minutes or the next twenty-four hours was anyone's guess. Madeline looked at the clock on the computer screen. It was one-thirty in the morning, and she was getting closer and closer to falling asleep on the couch. Shifting the cushions around her, she rolled onto her side to look at Rick.

  Rick rose and went to stand by the balcony door, tossing his jacket over the chair. He looked out over the silhouetted Moscow skyline; the city’s lights stared back at him. Madeline gazed over at him, saw him reach into his inside coat pocket and retrieve a cigarette and a lighter. She scowled as he raised the cigarette to his lips, she hated it when he smoked, and just as he was bringing the lighter up to meet it, she leapt from her seat, strode over to him, and snatched it from his mouth.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you to quit that?’ she scolded. Rick turned to face her, fully intent on defending his action, but when he found himself being studied by her bright sapphire eyes, he lost all defiance.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘After the flight, being back in the field. I guess I still need something to help me relax.’

  ‘Does it work?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really.’ he said, shaking his head, slightly.

  Madeline smiled as she tossed the offensive objects aside. ‘That's what I thought.’ she stated. She stepped behind him then, and placing a hand on either shoulder, she began massaging them and the nape of his neck. He raised his hand to his shoulder, holding one of hers. She leant forward to rest her chin on that hand. ‘I can help you relax,’ she drawled in her even alto voice. Her words, spoken to soothe and tease, drifted into his ear, and then he could hear, and feel the closeness of her breathing.

  ‘Madeline,’ he began, rotating to look her in the eyes - the action releasing him from her grasp. ‘You're enough to give any man a coronary. Not exactly a relaxed state.’ At the widening of her eyes, Rick continued. ‘Shocked it hasn't happened to me yet?’ He offered a grin, for her benefit. It was a grin she countered by stepping away from him, breaking the mood that had been created.

  Madeline turned on her heels and began to stride away. If that's how he feels, she thought, he can sleep on his own. Walking across the room, she smiled, wondering how far he’d let her walk, before he called an end to the charade. She was almost at the door when she heard his voice behind her saying ‘What a way to go though.’ Slowly she came to a halt and turned until she was looking directly at the unchanged grin on his face. Her lips curved gently into a smile of their own, never fading until she was standing almost toe- to- toe with him. She looked into his eyes, and closed the remaining space between them. She studied him briefly, and then placed a light kiss on his mouth. As she drew away, she inquired, ‘Relaxed yet?’

  Rick answered coolly, ‘Not even close.’

  ‘Shame,’ she remarked sarcastically. ‘Guess I'll have to try again.’

  ‘Guess so,’ he agreed, smile wider than ever, hands resting on her hips. She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he abruptly pulled away.

  ‘I'm sorry Madeline. It's just not working.’ He shook his head and moved to the centre of the room. He began pacing around the table.

  Madeline was thoroughly confused, a feeling she didn't take too well to. She spun to look directly at him, but she went unnoticed. His attention was directed at the computer screen on the coffee table. Madeline hoped the phone would ring soon, for his sake. They were wasting time just sitting there. Madeline left Rick alone in the lounge room. Once inside the bedroom, she removed the white hotel dressing gown she had put on after her shower and climbed into the bed. She watched through the open door as Rick paced the other room. He needed something to take his mind of the problem at hand, she decided. She smiled. ‘Come to bed, Rick,’ she offered. ‘We've contacted Keslov at the Kremlin, there's nothing more we can do now. Nothing towards the case, that is...’ As with all men, Madeline thought the sight of a naked woman in his bed would gain Rick's attention. However, Rick seemed distracted. He looked over to where Madeline was busy arranging the sheets around her naked body, and then turned away. He moved to the bar-fridge and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the second shelf. He would have had scotch, but the Russians in this particular hotel didn't believe in stocking the mini-bar with anything but vodka. Madeline scowled. This was going to be more difficult than she had anticipated. He was so preoccupied. She climbed out of the bed and crossed the two rooms, to stand directly in front of him. She took the glass from his hand, as he drank from it. Water spilled down his chin and dripped onto his shirt, soaking through to his chest. She placed the
glass on the counter behind him, leaning her body against his as she reached behind him. Stepping back slightly she then ran her finger up his chin, gathering the water from his skin. Her eyes still focused on his, she slowly kissed the water from her index finger and then kissed his mouth passionately. Exercising the control she now had over him, she led him into the bedroom, undressing him as they crossed the rooms. She pushed him down on to the bed, and lowered herself down beside him. As she moved to kiss his mouth, once more, she looked into his eyes. He was close to her physically, but his expression suggested he was someplace else, mentally. Leaning back against the pillows and the headboard he stared past her to something on the wall separating the bedroom from the rest of the apartment.

  ‘What is it? I know you want to say something.’ she said, kneeling beside him, facing him.

  ‘What's taking them so long? We should have heard something by now. At least from Keslov. It’s been twelve hours.’ He turned to face her.

  Madeline began to soothe him with caresses and re-assurances. ‘Be patient. Understanding the psyche of a terrorist takes time, as does evaluation, manipulation and assessment. And without my expertise they’re working at a disadvantage. Rearranging and evaluating the human psyche is my specialty. We’ll know soon enough what they’ve found. For now, we wait. Patiently. So, would you like me to rearrange you, mentally and physically?’ she teased, running her fingers slowly down the centre of his chest, over his stomach, and back up towards his face again. She rested her hands on his chest and leaned forward. Rick only just managed to answer, ‘Rearrange away,’ as she began nibbling at his lips, throat and down over his chest. A deep moan rose from his throat as she made her way back up his body. Her breasts rested on his well-muscled chest, as she lifted herself up and studied his face. Her hair cascaded around her face. It tickled his skin where it fell onto him. He flicked away some of the strands that crossed her face. He then abruptly, but gently grabbed her neck and cheek, pulled forward towards him, and kissed her. As he released her she pushed off his chest to sit up-right. He caught her behind the neck and raised himself to kiss her passionately, once more. Still kissing her, he slid his hands down her body, where he then cupped her breasts with his hands. Madeline watched as he rolled onto his side, and moved his head toward them. She closed her eyes as he used his mouth and tongue to tease her. She gripped his neck and shoulders with her hands. She pushed him to lie flat on his back as she straddled him and guided him to where he wanted to be, where she wanted him to be. As he sank into her, he pulled her forward – until her chest touched his – and shifted positions, so that she was on the bottom as he stroked and ultimately pounded her to her first orgasm. At least this way he could 'feel' as though he was in control, that he had the power.