by Simon Jenner
She twisted the knife a little further. “But you have a phobia of prostitutes?”
“No. I couldn’t care less what you did before. I really like you and I screwed up. I’m really sorry. Please can we wipe the slate clean?”
“I still don’t understand why you wanted to stop.”
“It seemed like you thought I was some kind of hero or something and I didn’t think I would match those expectations if I had allowed it to go any further.”
“So you wanted me?”
“Oh God, yes.” John hadn’t meant for that to come out quite so honestly.
“And you know that I wanted you?”
Where is she going with this? “I thought so,” he said cautiously.
“So why didn’t you just take a chance?”
“Because I thought I’d lose you. That you’d laugh at me, that the hero would be a let-down. All of those things. You’d already got my interest when you offered yourself to me in exchange for getting Johnson and Wilson to sort out your Christos problem. I was sorely tempted then but did the right thing because it would have been taking advantage of you. When we were finally about to actually ... get together, I could tell in my bones ...” John felt the warmth from his cheeks as he approached his confession, “... and other parts, that it would be a short-lived experience.”
They sat looking at each other in silence. The truth was out, and while John felt better about that, he couldn’t tell what was going through Savannah’s mind as she continued to stare at him. John’s heart had slowed down, but his stomach still acted like he was falling down a chasm and was forever trying to catch up with the rest of him. Was he imagining it or were Savannah’s eyes wider and a little brighter?
“I guess I did come on a bit strong,” she said, tapping her fingers on her thighs and looking around the room. “You really wanted me, huh?”
“Of course I did. Have you not seen yourself? You’re beautiful.”
“So you just like my body?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” John took one of her hands in both of his, “You just want me to suffer a bit more for what I did, and I guess I deserve that and everything you called me in the hotel.”
“I’ve never sworn like that before.”
“Forget about it. I earned it.”
John wasn’t sure what he was doing but it felt right to him, and he wanted to share his feelings with another woman for the first time in his life. “I’m amazed at what you’ve been through and that you still managed to stay a sane person. What you went through with your mum dying, your dad drinking and gambling away your inheritance and that arsehole boyfriend cleaning you out would be enough to make anyone give up.”
“I nearly did give up yesterday.”
“I’m not finished.”
“Sorry.”
“The truth is that you never gave up.” John kissed her hand, hoping the gesture wasn’t too pathetic. “You’re intelligent, resourceful and I could stare at your eyes forever. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you and I have no idea if we could be good together or not but if we live through tomorrow and they catch this bastard, then I think we should give it a try.”
Savannah’s face beamed and John swore he saw a little flush in her cheeks. “Does that mean we have to wait before we kiss?” she said.
John’s heart picked up pace again and his stomach somersaulted several times. “No,” he said, leaning forward and meeting her lips as they approached his. Their lips parted and tongues urgently searched each other’s mouths. Breathing became rapid and John’s mouth seemed to suddenly go dry. No other girl had ever affected him this way. There was no time for water. There were no brakes this time, he was freefalling out of control to a place he had never been, and he was loving every wonderful second.
*
The first time had lasted ... well not very long, but the second and the third and the fourth times had been out of this world. Even now certain intimate muscles twitched with the residual memory of heightened pleasure. His moves, which began tentatively, grew with confidence after the enjoyable, but short lived and frantic, first sexual encounter. After that, John was unbelievably keen to explore every part of her body, leaving virtually no part untouched.
She had figured that he might take a little persuasion to let loose his inhibitions, and she wondered exactly what had kept him from neglecting his sexual wellbeing for so long. A part of her was glad and a little smug at the fact that she had brought out the animal in him that no other woman had yet experienced. If it hadn’t been for the duration of their first time she might have suspected that the whole inexperience story was a ploy of some sort, but, given that she had thrown herself at him three times already, she couldn’t think, for the life of her, what that ploy could be.
Men and their insecurities, Savannah mused. Although she had to admit, only to herself, that a tiny seed of doubt had considered what she would do and say if the experience had turned out to be a disaster. John could have always said ‘I told you so’ and she would have been forced to face bitter disappointment with words of solace and encouragement. It didn’t matter. It had been everything she had hoped and more. She had a hero for a man and if they lived through the week it might turn into ... who knew?
In the small bedroom upstairs, Savannah lay with her head on John’s chest.
“Yes,” she said, blowing on his chest as her finger circled his nipple. She liked that what little chest hair he had was soft, not thick and wiry.
“Yes to what?” John asked, stroking Savannah’s hair.
“I’ll go out with you.”
John laughed. “I thought that was implied, or is it inferred? I can never remember.”
Savannah giggled, catching herself unawares. Was that her? Of course it is, silly. When was the last time she had giggled? She couldn’t honestly remember if she ever had, not like that. Even to her own ears, the sound had been girly, playful and most of all just plain happy. She didn’t know what would become of them, whether they would make it through the dangers that lay ahead. If they died tomorrow it would be on a high, and given that she couldn’t recall another feeling even close to the utter contentment that hummed inside her now, somehow that wasn’t so bad.
*
Tina Turner wakes me. I grab my phone from beside the bed. My knuckles still throb from my wall punching. It is the counterfeiter known only as Saturn.
“Your passport and papers are ready,” he says.
I blink my eyelids to bring the room into focus. “When can I get them?”
“They are behind your hotel reception desk.”
Of course, he wouldn’t take on my work without knowing where I was staying. They say he is the best and so far I’m impressed. Now I can book the plane tickets. There is nothing like good news to awaken the mind.
“Good,” I say.
“Are we agreed that our transaction is at a close?”
What an odd man. “Yes,” I agree.
“Then I bid you great success.”
I don’t know how to reply and so I end the call. The news of a trip will excite Sasha. She has hardly travelled and will be keen to keep me happy when I spring the good news on her. No more council house for her. I check the time. It is just before 8:30 P.M. I have slept for over three hours. The time is perfect to call my sister. This call will be the best yet. Tina Turner shrieks out again. Why did I choose such a grating tune? Black speaks. His voice is slow and slurred.
“My friend. I have more gold.”
“Are you drugged up?”
“I have more gold,” he repeats.
I want nothing to do with him in this state but time is dwindling. “Pull yourself together.”
“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay... The girl will be at an office in Twickenham tomorrow morning.”
I catch my breath. This is what I’ve been waiting for. “And?” I say.
“Two... two thousand.”
I’ll have left the country in t
wo days’ time. I can promise anything. “Okay. Where?”
“Opposite the rail station. Justice Investigations.”
I am back in the game. The gun will soon be mine.
“When can ... I collect...” Black jibbers.
I end the call.
Everything is now in my grasp. Nothing can stand in my way. Revenge, love and a new life are within touching distance. I steady my breathing before calling Sasha. I make myself comfortable on the bed and unzip my trousers.
She knows it’s me. “Yes?”
“I have good news.”
“You’re not going to call anymore?”
She is often sarcastic and I don’t take offence. “We’re going on a trip.” The call goes quiet. “I said we’re going on a trip.” I can hear her breathing. I wish I could feel her breath in my ear.
“You agreed that we didn’t have to see each other ... that we’d keep it to the phone calls.”
“Yes, but this is a new life in Australia. I have a new passport. No one will know we’re related. We can live as a couple.” I can picture her elated face even though I haven’t seen it in over twenty-five years.
“You’ll hurt me just like Dad used to.”
It is a slap in the face. “I’m not Dad. He did things to me too. Don’t you remember?”
“You’ve become just like him. Ever since we’ve been in touch again, you’ve got worse.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“You’re my brother. Of course I love you. But not like that. It’s not right.”
“We used to ... when Dad made us.”
“Yes!” she screamed. “Because he made us!”
She needs time to digest the news. The excitement is too much for her. “I’ve been getting counselling. My therapist says it’s not my fault and I’m going to get better.”
“Are you still seeing him?”
“It’s a her.”
“Her then?”
“Yes,” I lie. I just need to get her to Australia and then everything will work itself out. She just needs a little push.
“And you won’t touch me?”
“No.”
“Not ever?”
“I promise. Think of a beautiful house with a swimming pool. It will be fantastic.” I picture the bedroom. She is wearing white stockings and nothing else. She’s been bad.
The line goes quiet again. “Sasha?”
“Prove it,” she says.
“What?”
“Hang up now without making me say stuff to you.”
“But?”
“Hang up now and I’ll go with you if you promise to continue therapy.”
The bigger picture. Think of the bigger picture. “I’ll need your passport details to book the tickets.”
“I’ll text them when you hang up.”
My mind spins. I stand up and lean against the wall for support. The change of position does not dampen my desire. I want her filthy whispers in my ear. I can’t end the call.
“Do it Gregory or I’m staying.”
I place my thumb on the red ‘end call’ button but I can’t press it. My whole body tenses like a statue. I must end the call. Why is it so hard? Finally my left hand presses my right thumb and the call ends. I did it. Five minutes later the phone vibrates and I have Sasha’s passport details.
I think of our new life together and what we will do once she comes around to my way of thinking. When I orgasm, it is the best ever. It is a climax of victory.
21: Sunday 25th September, 21:25
The SAS’s Eurocopter Dauphin was indeed dolphin-like in shape, except in place of the dorsal fin sat a bulbous hump from which the four main blades sprouted. The agents had not spoken a word during the fifty minute journey from RAF Northolt. It was just as well the helicopter had cut more than two hours off the time it would have taken to drive.
Wilson had been glad of the peace that their silence provided, taking the opportunity to stare into the darkness of night and trickle charge his failing batteries. This assignment had been the toughest he could remember in his seventeen years with Earthguard. He was no longer the energetic and hardened soul who joined the anti-terrorist organisation at the age of thirty. But then he was hardly the man of even four months ago. It was a good change.
He glanced over to his partner and boss who keenly eyed the pilot’s use of the vast array of controls. The man virtually hummed with energy. Never before had their thirteen year age gap seemed as obvious as it did at that moment.
Wilson had clearly lost Johnson’s trust. But it didn’t matter anymore. After this assignment, if they still had jobs, Wilson would request a new partner. After that he would request a leave of absence and spend every day of it with his daughter, Kate. She was stubborn but he could be worse. He would refuse to meet her rent payments any longer unless she went to church every day with him. Kate would have no choice and from there it would be a small step to enter into the church’s family counselling program.
It comforted him to think that Julie was in a peaceful place. She had been a good woman and deserved better from him. He could make it up to her by rescuing their daughter and sharing Julie’s faith that he and Kate had ridiculed. He didn’t know why it all made such sense suddenly, but he knew it was all thanks to Savannah. By trying to help him without an ulterior motive, she had shown him the light. Kate was going to have a fit, but they’d get through it together.
Wilson looked down to see the lights of the helipad on the south side of RHQ Credenhill SAS barracks as they neared their landing. The surrounding unspoiled countryside was bathed in the light of an almost full moon and seemed an unlikely setting for the small band of specialist armed forces. There had been a time when he was younger, in his late teens, when such a vista would have lifted his spirits and revitalised his resolve, but not anymore, and certainly not tonight. There was too much to get through before he could appreciate the future beyond this assignment. He had hope now, but there was a way to go before hope translated into reality.
The rest of the looming site consisted of nine large, uniform, rectangular barracks adjacent to the helipad, mostly unoccupied empty fields in the centre of the site and some twenty odd further buildings to the North which included the ‘H’ shaped head office where they would carry out their interviews.
This was the agent’s first visit to the home of the 22nd Regiment since it moved from Hereford in May 1999. As they disembarked from the sleek-lined helicopter, Wilson was once again amazed by the lack of substantial noise from the engine and blades. This smooth and stealthy bird, capable of speeds of almost 200 miles per hour, would have looked more at home on top of a corporate skyscraper than here at the headquarters of the most elite regiment of soldiers in the world. Like the peaceful countryside harboured men trained in the art of killing, so the friendly dolphin shape hid its deadly capabilities.
A cold wind had picked up and the air was damp with imminent rain. Savannah might laugh at their antiquated-style coats, but they kept the cold at bay. What he’d have given to have been blessed with a daughter like her. But girls like Savannah were one in a million and came with losers for fathers. Nature was messed up.
A staff car met the agents on the helipad, and they were greeted with great formality and zero courtesy. Their visit was not a welcome one. Even less was known publicly about Earthguard than the SAS, and when orders were issued from the very top of government to provide full disclosure to international outsiders, it didn’t go down well at Credenhill. Wilson had seen it all before. Every security agency and special fighting unit in the world believed that they had earned special treatment. It went with the territory.
Four minutes and three ninety-degree turns later, Johnson and Wilson were inside the expansive head office building. Their escort departed with a salute, leaving them with the squadron leader outside his office door. Major Harris greeted the agents with a single nod, about faced and re-entered his office. The uniformed man was a couple of inches shorter than Johnson
and had most of the typical army-ingrained traits: slim but solid, stiff as a board, unnaturally upright, permanently aggressive expression and not at all pleased to see them.
“I’d say welcome to you both but you’d know I was lying,” Major Harris said, sitting behind his black metal desk which was clear but for a flat computer screen and wireless keyboard. A framed picture of a younger Harris meeting the Queen and Prince Philip hung behind the officer, telling Wilson that it was for the benefit of visitors rather than his own enjoyment. Wilson looked behind to see what, if anything, the Major stared at for inspiration when he wasn’t planning rescue missions or assaults deep into enemy territory. The wall was bare, which probably said more about the man than any piece of art or photograph could.
Strangely, the Major’s stiffness appeared to ease somewhat as he sat back in his chair, as though he felt more in control behind the desk. Maybe he had a gun pointed at them from under it? Nothing in this job surprised Wilson anymore. The open hostility was not new ground for the agents. As protocol dictated, Johnson spoke first, toning down his crass American accent for once.
“We appreciate your discomfort at our invasion into your privacy, Major. We will endeavour to make this whole process as quick and as unobtrusive as possible.”
The Major rubbed his chin, his small predator-like eyes analysing Johnson from head to toe. He made no offer of a place for the agents to sit. “You’re Johnson, the American, aren’t you?” It was rhetorical and Johnson, as was typical, showed no reaction.
Johnson indicated to his partner with his right hand. “This is Agent Max Wilson. He will be interviewing you while I start on the list of those that worked or socialised most closely with our man. How many are we looking at?”
Wilson was shocked. He couldn’t believe that Johnson would let him interview the Major. It was completely outside of protocol. Johnson must be feeling the pressure. This was a blatant disregard for Earthguard procedure. Did he still trust him? What was his agenda?