Edge of Tomorrow

by Wolf Wootan

  “Go easy on the booze, Sara,” said Shirley with a laugh. “You’re not in shape yet.”

  “Shape for what? You guys won’t let me do a fucking thing!” yelled Sara.

  “Calm down, Sara!” ordered Syd. “I didn’t come over here to listen to you rant and rave! I know it’s hard for an active woman like you to take it easy, but a couple more days and you can probably start swimming again. That will build your strength up.”

  “That’s what I told her,” agreed Shirley. “At least, you’re getting some sun today. That should please you.”

  The three women were dressed in shorts and halter tops so they could keep up their Florida tans. They ate in silence for a few moments.

  “When do you expect Hatch back?” asked Syd.

  “Missing him already?” laughed Sara.

  “Just wondering,” replied Syd.

  “In case you didn’t notice, Shirley, Dr. Z. is interested in our boss,” teased Sara. “Ordinarily, I would say I don’t have a clue when he might be back here; but with you here, he’ll probably be back sooner than usual.”

  “I won’t be here much longer. I need to get back to work. I called the University of Miami and I can get a job teaching undergraduate Arabic starting next month. That would mean moving to Miami in a week or two. It’s not Harvard, but it’ll pay the bills,” said Syd without much enthusiasm.

  “Hatch won’t like that,” Sara said seriously. “Neither will I! I kind of got used to having you around.”

  “Thanks, Sara. I’ll miss you, too, but you guys have the Bell chopper. You can come see me—or pick me up for parties,” laughed Syd.

  “And I’ll be in Arizona,” pouted Shirley, “working my ass off.”

  “What ass?” chortled Sara.

  They chatted amiably for another 45 minutes while they finished their lunch. Then Sara said she was tired and Shirley said she would wheel her in for her afternoon nap.

  “After I get Sara settled, I’m due for another training session on Shadow-5, Syd. Want to look over my shoulder? You’ll be fascinated!” said Shirley.

  “Sure, why not? I don’t have anything else planned.”

  • • •

  Syd spent all afternoon with Shirley in Shadow-5 learning the complicated offensive and defensive weapons systems, and the advanced communications and navigation systems. She was not sure why she was spending time learning something she would never make use of, but everything was so fascinating, and it beat going home and reading a book. She wondered why Hatch did not share this technology with the U. S. military, even though she thought she knew his answer: politics would hold the technology hostage, not allowing it to be used when and where it was needed most.

  Syd spent the next two days having lunch with Sara and Shirley, and the afternoons with Shirley and Smitty in Shadow-5. She kept wondering what Hatch was doing and when he might return to Florida.

  • • •

  On Friday, August 10, Syd was on the balcony of her condo reclining on a lounge and reading her Clancy book—which she seemed to have trouble finishing—when her phone rang. She had placed it on the small round table next to her lounge. The ring of the phone startled her and she sat up quickly to grab it. When she did, her bathing suit top fell off her breasts, since she had untied it to avoid strap marks.

  She picked up the cordless phone and said, “Hello.”

  “Hello to you, Syd! Miss me?” said Hatch’s elated voice.

  “Yes, I did! Where are you?” she answered with excitement.

  “In the chopper on my way to Klaus Haus. I can’t wait to see you!” he replied.

  “You really would like to see me right now! I’m sitting here on my balcony topless!” she giggled.

  “Don’t move! I’ll have the pilot fly over and take a look,” he laughed.

  “Don’t you dare! I’m moving inside!” she said, automatically putting her left arm across her breasts.

  “Just kidding! When can I really see you? Can I send a car for you? You can stay for dinner. Mrs. C. is having surf and turf tonight in honor of my return. You’ll love the lobster!”

  “I’d rather have you to myself, but that’s being selfish! Yes, send a car, or I can grab a cab. I can’t wait to see you!”

  “I’ll call ahead, get a car on its way. I need to see you, too!”

  “See you soon,” she said, smacking a kiss into the phone.

  • • •

  As Syd entered the front door of Klaus Haus, she was met by the lovely-as-ever Mrs. Chamberlain.

  “Hello, again, Sydney. I’m glad you can join us for dinner once again.”

  “So am I, Mrs. C. I hear you’re having lobster,” smiled Syd.

  “You’re very good at this spy business. Hatch went to his room to freshen up. He asked me to send you there as soon as you arrived,” she said with an impish smile.

  “Thanks, Mrs. C., catch you later.”

  Syd bounded up the now familiar staircase and down the hall to Hatch’s room. She realized that she had never been in his room before. She knocked twice on the door and waited.

  “Come in,” she heard a muffled voice call out.

  She opened the door and entered his room, closing the door behind her. The suite was twice as large as the one she had used here.

  “That you, Syd?” came Hatch’s voice from the bathroom.

  “Yes. Just little ol’ me.”

  “Be right out.”

  “He came out of the bathroom drying his face with a towel. He had obviously just shaved around his goatee. He was bare-chested, wearing dark suit pants. Syd had worn a long gray skirt, black boots, and a Navy Blue silk blouse in deference to Mrs. C.’s dress code for dinner.

  “My God, you’re gorgeous! And your hair! I love it! It makes you look even more like Audrey Hepburn!” Hatch bubbled as he approached her.

  His beard was no longer full, but had been shaped into a goatee and mustache with medium sideburns.

  “You look pretty handsome yourself! I like the change in your beard. What’s the occasion?”

  “This is my corporate look, in case some paparazzi get my picture. Come here!”

  He took her in his arms and pulled her tight against him, just holding her for a few seconds. Syd could feel the warmth of his bare chest through her thin silk blouse, and immersed herself in it. She looked up into his hazel eyes and put her arms around his neck. Then, they had a long, lingering kiss.

  “I’ve missed that,” she whispered.

  “Not as much as I have. I could hardly concentrate on business because of you.”

  “How did business go?” she asked.

  “Boring. I had to put out a few fires, but it was mostly just smoozing the people, letting them know they’re doing a good job. I approved their operating plans and budgets for the next quarter, and gave them their bonuses. They always like that! Barring a crisis, I won’t have another formal meeting until the end of the year. I wish you hadn’t moved back to your condo. I need you here.”

  He kissed her again, and this time they had dueling tongues.

  After she caught her breath, she said, “I can’t sponge off you forever, Hatch. I’m trying to get things back to normal. And how often are you really here? Thirty days a year? And—you’ll like this even less—I may be moving to Miami in a couple of weeks.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, peering into her dark eyes.

  “You wouldn’t dare! Why, pray tell?”

  “I need a job, and the University of Miami has offered me one if I want it. I thought at least that would keep me in the area. Which is kind of stupid in a way, since you travel so much; one area is as good as any other. I could go back to Harvard and make more money.”

  “Enough of this for now! You’re depressing me! We’ll discuss it rationally later. Right now I want to kiss you some more—and I want to feel you up again, but I’m afraid to touch that blouse you have on and mess it up,” he said, switching the subject.

 
; She continued to stare into his eyes, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

  “We wouldn’t want hand prints on my blouse, now would we,” she smiled coyly. “What would Mrs. C. think?”

  She finished unbuttoning it and took it off, hanging it carefully on the back of the desk chair. Hatch went to the door of his suite and locked it. Syd now stood in her black bra as he returned to her and again kissed her, this time feeling her breasts through the soft, silken bra. Her nipples hardened quickly.

  “Now do you see why I wanted you to myself?” she gasped.

  “Yes! That was my preference, too, but this is my first night back and Mrs. C. would have been upset with me. So would Sara. God, you feel good!”

  “I love the feel of your hands on me!”

  “Since all of your neighbors got to see you topless, do you suppose I could, too?” he laughed.

  “Nobody saw me topless! My balcony is completely private! Except from choppers, that is!” she laughed.

  “I should have flown over, but then the pilot would have gotten an eyeful, too. You wouldn’t have liked that!”

  “Well, lucky for you, I have no will power. I’m standing here wanting to feel my naked breasts against your naked body, so unhook my bra, if you know how!”

  “I’m a little out of practice, but it’s like riding a bike, isn’t it?”

  He reached his arms around her back and unhooked her bra while kissing her deeply.

  “Remember,” she said, “I’m over thirty, so you will notice a bit of the effects of gravity!”

  “That proves they’re real!”

  He removed her bra and threw it on the bed. He held her at arm’s length and looked at her well-formed breasts, their nipples hard and erect, rising out of ruddy brown areolas which were on a field of snow-white skin. He said nothing as he absorbed their beauty.

  “Well, you like?” Syd finally asked.

  “Oh! I like! I see you don’t sunbathe in the nude like Sara does!”

  “Should I?”

  “I don’t know! The contrast is breathtaking! They’re beautiful! You’re beautiful!”

  “Then hug me! I want to feel them against you!”

  She could feel the heat of his body without the interference of clothes now, and she knew she had to figure out a way to make this a permanent thing. She did not want to lose this man, but she knew the odds were against her.

  He felt the softness and warmth of her against his bare chest, and the hard nipples. He wondered, too, if he could really win this woman. He worried about their age difference and what she would ultimately think about that. He started to catalog the pros and cons they had discussed earlier, but her tongue made the list fade away. His right hand found her left breast and gently played with her nipple.

  “What time is dinner?” she asked in his ear, breathing heavily.

  He looked at his watch and said, “In about twenty minutes.”

  “Shit!” she replied. “We’d better get ourselves put together or Mrs. C. will have a cow! Where’s my bra? And I need to fix my makeup.”

  “Your bra is on the bed—where we should be! Maybe I should drive you home after dinner myself. What do you think?”

  “I would rather skip dinner, but I guess that’s not an option. Yes, you can take me home later!”

  • • •

  Syd sat on Hatch’s right at dinner. Mrs. Chamberlain had exceeded her usual quality with an offering of bacon-wrapped filet mignons, Australian lobster tails with drawn butter, baked potatoes, and baby asparagus spears with Hollandaise sauce. As much as Syd enjoyed the meal, her mind was on what would happen later when Hatch took her home.

  No more psychobabble analysis crap! Screw our hang-ups! Tonight I’m taking him to bed, no matter what the consequences! I can’t stand this any longer! If it causes him to dump me afterward, so be it! I’ll have to make the sex so good that he’ll want to come back for more!

  Hatch’s thoughts were running along a similar theme as he kept looking at Syd, remembering how she looked topless earlier in his room. He wanted to see the whole package. As he watched Syd sip her wine with the same lips he had kissed an hour before, he felt his silent pager vibrate. He glanced at it and could hardly believe his eyes: the code was the one he had assigned to the President of the United States!

  “Excuse me, folks. I have to take this call!” said Hatch as he rose from the table and left the dining room and went to his room for privacy.

  He got his Blue Phone and punched some buttons, then heard, “May I speak to Bob, please?”

  “This is Bob, sir,” Hatch answered.

  “Thank you for being so prompt in getting back to me,” said the President. “I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner.”

  “Just finished, Mr. President,” stated Hatch as he saw the green light on his phone come on, indicating that the voice print identification had been confirmed.

  “I assume you have confirmed my identity, Bob.”

  “Yes, sir. You may speak freely.”

  “I have a situation that I would like to tell you about. An American Airlines 757 has been highjacked. It was out of Rome, headed for JFK. The latest word from the pilot is that they have been ordered to divert to Cuba,” said the President in his distinctive baritone voice.

  “That is not good! Do you know anything about the highjackers?”

  “Not at this time. Although any highjacking is to be abhorred, we have a special interest in this one. We have a courier on board with a diplomatic pouch that contains very sensitive material,” answered the man in the Oval Office.

  “Have you taken any action yet?” asked Hatch.

  “I have the Marines at Guantanamo on alert, as well as the Delta Force in North Carolina. However, if the plane lands in Cuba, that causes a touchy political situation in light of the ongoing talks with Cuba about normalizing relations with them. The Cuban government will be in sympathy with the highjackers, so I don’t see how I can use military force on Cuban soil without undoing a lot of progress,” said a dejected President.

  Hatch’s mind was racing, trying to formulate a plan. Most military assaults of highjacked aircraft had casualties among the hostages. The Cuban venue was even trickier.

  “I agree that you have a very sticky situation on your hands, Mr. President. I’m not sure you have any good options. What is the ETA in Cuba?”

  “In four hours. The Cubans have granted them permission to land. We have no idea what their plans are once they are there.”

  Hatch finally made a decision.

  “Mr. President, don’t take any action for the moment. I know you have no reason to trust me, but you have no viable options in any case. If I do not call you back within the next three hours, you are on your own. Do whatever you think you can. In the meantime, I need to talk to some people. By the way, is your courier armed?” asked Hatch.

  “I don’t think so. I hope not! I don’t want him to draw any special attention to himself. I need that pouch!”

  “Is there anything I should know about the pouch?” asked Hatch.

  “Only that it contains a document which could have serious political implications in Europe—possibly cause a war. Until we evaluate it properly, we don’t know.”

  “Well, thank you for sharing your concerns with me,” said Hatch. “Hopefully, I will be in touch.”

  “Thank you for listening, Bob. I just hope you are not a hoax! I’ll feel like an ass!”

  “I’m no hoax, sir. Keep the faith!”

  Hatch put his phone away and returned to the dining room and took his seat, his mind churning. All eyes were upon him.

  “What was that about? You seem upset,” whispered Syd.

  “Tell you in a minute. Eddie, could I have some coffee here, please?” he said.

  When Eddie served his coffee, Hatch said, “Eddie, would you please turn on the TV to CNN for me now.”

  Eddie went to the wall and slid a panel back, revealing a large TV screen. He picked up the remote and turned on t
he TV, selecting CNN. The commentator was discussing the highjacking. Everyone turned and listened to the account being given by the commentator. After a couple of minutes, Hatch decided that CNN knew less than he did about what was going on. They certainly did not know anything about a courier on board.

  “We’ve been presented with an opportunity here, people. That phone call I just had was from the President of the United States.”

  He took a sip of his coffee as they all absorbed this.

  “That aircraft is scheduled to land in Cuba at half past midnight. The President wants it rescued, but doesn’t have the means to do it without causing an international incident, one which would probably sink his Cuba normalization agenda. Sara, do you think this is a candidate for the procedure you’ve been developing for rescuing a highjacked aircraft?” asked Hatch.

  “It sounds perfect! Even the same type of aircraft we’ve been practicing on in Arizona. But the timing is too tight! That team is in Arizona with Shadow-2. They could never get here in time,” replied Sara. “And Cuba is a little dicey. We have no support teams there in case of trouble.”

  “I know. Smitty, is Shadow-5 tested enough to fly to Cuba and back?” asked Hatch.

  “No problem. I was going to fly it to Arizona in a couple of days. I haven’t tested firing any weapons, though. That will be done in Arizona,” drawled Smitty.

  “Hopefully, weapons would not be required. What exactly do we need to highjack those highjackers, Sara?” asked Hatch.

  Sara looked at him a long beat, then said, “You’re not going to try and wing this are you? This procedure takes a lot of training. Everything has to be exact—precise.”

  “That plane is loaded with innocent people, and as usual, the President of the United States can’t do anything about it because of his precious political positions. I thought we were the best hostage rescue people in the world! Can’t we help these people?” asked Hatch, fervor in his voice.

  “We’ve never done this for real, even with the team in Arizona, though they’ve trained with a generic Boeing mockup we have down there,” said Sara. “It’s very similar to the 757.”