by David Dun
"I'm afraid this poor old guy is getting ready to die."
"Like Mom," Nate said softly.
"Yes," Maria said, squeezing his shoulder.
"But she was just gone all of a sudden."
"I know."
"I don't want that to happen anymore," Nate said, his voice breaking.
Then she held him and he cried for what seemed like a half hour. On the way back to the car, Maria could see a change in his eyes. She wasn't sure what or how, but something had been resolved.
30
They were to meet in the lobby of the Palmer Inn. Sitting in front of a mammoth stone fireplace in a brown overstuffed couch, she browsed through a New York Times that she had managed to find at the front desk. They had reserved a private booth at the back of the restaurant. It was 4:00 p.m. She wasn't hungry, her insides were in turmoil, and her feelings bounced from anger to desperation to hope, while her mind fought to see a rational path out of her quandary. They really needed a very private place-a place she could yell and pace. When she agreed to meet him here, she hadn't thought of that.
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
She turned around, and there was Dan, smiling and relaxed.
"You aren't getting yourself all worked up, are you?"
"Yes. I am getting myself all worked up."
"Well, let's go in the coffee shop and have a talk, then maybe we'll go for a drive."
"OK," she said.
They were greeted by a friendly waiter who had no one to wait on. Apparently gauging Maria, he handed them their menus immediately after seating them and said he would return in a while. No chitchat.
The decor was blush pink and black, a little worn, but not nearly as tough as the conversation she contemplated.
"I'm grateful to be alive."
"Yeah. It must feel good coming so close on the heels of almost dying."
"It does. We've been saying…" She paused and started again. "We've been talking about the Highlands and our-" She hesitated, trying to think of how to say it.
"Maybe I could help out here. I mean, you might not have to carry all the water yourself."
"Why don't you just grab a bucket and have at it?"
"Well, I'd like to change venues if I'm going to help you out. I'm sure the waiter will forgive us. I'll leave a generous tip."
"OK," she said, uncertain but willing.
''You have to promise to hold this discussion in abeyance until we reach our destination."
Dan rose, pulled out his wallet, and offered his arm. As they walked, the waiter rose from his perch with a quizzical frown. Dan smiled and slipped him a five.
''I'm sorry, I just realized there was some important business that I need to attend to," Dan said.
"Where are we going?"
"My house. Pepacita's just leaving and Nate's with Katie."
"I see." They were quiet during the walk to the car.
"I'm really curious now. Do you have food, or what? You look so devilish. I'm almost worried."
"There's no crew at my house chopping down all the trees if that's what you're concerned about."
"The suspense is killing me. Can't you just give me a hint? Just a little one."
"We'll be there in just a minute."
"Have you talked to my dad?"
"Now, now, you promised."
"No," she groaned. "That's not the same subject."
"Oh, come on. You'll have to do better than that. Everything to do with your family is the same subject."
In minutes they turned into the driveway.
"We're here. I promise we'll deal with everything inside."
They went in through the front door this time. Just as they went in, Pepacita slid past them, smiling mysteriously and kissing Maria on the cheek as she went. Everything looked normal, neat and thoroughly groomed, just as she remembered it. Then they proceeded through the dining area and soon nothing looked the same. Down the hall to the kitchen and family-room area, she could see flowing white diaphanous fabric. Through the doorway there was a soft glow.
She tried to form a question but found herself speechless.
The family room had been converted to a tent with fabric over the bookcases and across the ceiling. There were soft candlelike lights and two candelabras with live, burning candles-Pepacita must have just lit them. The furniture had been cleared, and there was one very large recliner couch that looked like a holdover from the Roman Empire. On it lay a single red rose. Beside it stood a silver champagne bucket packed with ice and a large bottle. A lacquered cart held strawberries and a marvelous array of sushi. There were four flower arrangements-each head-high with lilies, orchids, and irises in an Asian motif.
Dan put his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the recliner.
Reaching down, he picked up a filmy peignoir and a partly translucent gown. Beside them were men's silk pajamas.
"You'll need a costume," he said.
"You are completely crazy."
"I can't help you with that bucket of water if you don't put on your costume. You can use the back bedroom."
"I thought I could deal with anything. But I'm not so sure about this."
"Relax. It's only a gown. The lights are soft. You'll be safe as safe can be." She looked at him. "I promise."
"OK,", she said.
On the bed in Dan's room, she found this note:
Eyes can speak things only the soul can hear; Minds can intertwine with greater bliss than touch; A look can stir the heart, never slipping a button; A face has magic enough for heart, soul, and loins. I don't need to see the rest until you're ready.
Feeling her old confidence and deciding the gown wasn't bad at all, she walked back to the living room to find him waiting.
"Right this way," he said, inviting her to slide under a heavy silken sheet. As she did so, she turned on her side, facing him. In a second his face was a foot from hers; he also perched on his elbow.
"Now I would like to take up where we left off."
"This is nice," she said.
"I'm thrilled you like it. It was planned just for you."
"Did Nate see this?"
Dan nodded. ''Most of it. He thought it was pretty cool."
"It is crazy but in a very charming way."
"So I think it's my turn now."
"Yes."
"I think we were about to say that Dan Young has fallen utterly in love with Maria, and this presents some interesting dilemmas. In order for you to decide how you might approach that thorny subject, you need to have a talk with him. And we were about to have that talk."
"Yes."
"May I take your hand?"
She held it out. He lay back and took it in both of his and began caressing her palm. Instantly her hand seemed intimately connected to her whole body. Lying supine on the angled couch, he continued with her hand while he slid up close. Putting her head down, she watched him until he kissed her eyelids. She was going to say something, but decided to wait, enjoying the feel of his lips on her face.
His thoughts were dancing in his eyes and he seemed terribly alive, his look making her body warm.
"I love you. I'll do whatever it takes," he said.
"Oh God, I was so hoping you would say that. But how can I ask more from you than I would give?"
He looked at her as if he were waiting.
When she said nothing, he said, "Trust me."
Something inside her exploded. Crawling on top of him, she began kissing him. He pulled her tight and kissed her back, his tongue exploring hers. She felt bound and pent up. While she pulled at the peignoir, he slipped it over her shoulders. Reaching beneath her, he stopped kissing her only long enough to slip the gown over her head. They collided so hard she heard their teeth click. With her gently tugging his arm, he rolled on top of her as she began popping buttons on the pajamas.
"Slow down, lover," he said when she had stripped off the pajamas. "Remember I haven't done this in a while."
''You look
fine to me,'' she said, holding him and stroking him.
He kissed her nipples while she held the back of his head. Her breasts were large and firm, the nipples dark rose. Then he pulled her on top and began using his hands on her back, caressing in long deep strokes. He could feel her relax and move to his touch. All the time he planted kisses on her face and neck.
''Oh God," she said as he went to work on her shoulders. "This is so good."
Gradually he moved his hands once again to her lower back; then as he felt her telling him, he moved to her bottom and the tops of her thighs, making his touch feather light. Gradually he could feel her hips start to move, grinding on him, trying to find the place. She reached for him to put him inside her.
"My tongue is an instrument of peace," he said with a grin.
"Noooo," she said as he rolled her over. "I haven't-"
''Trust me,'' he said, licking her as she laughed nervously. For a while she was quiet and slightly tense. He went everywhere but the core of her sensitivity. Then gradually he began to flick his tongue.
"Oh my God,'' she cried out as he began the little circles. On her thighs his hands listened for the subtle tremors that guided his tongue.
She grabbed his hair and he knew to keep on and on. Then she pulled him down tight. From deep inside, the groans began as he moved his tongue in rhythm with her hips.
"Trust me, trust me." The words echoed in her body without his ever speaking them again. It was a fierce dance and he could feel her falling into abandon, giving herself away. Tossing her head, she moaned as if in delirium, and chills went up his spine as he felt her going with him. Her glistening belly moved like rippling grass with the tremors through her body. She breathed as if she had sprinted a mile, her whole body finally falling rag-doll limp.
"Now you've done it," she said between breaths, and held his head gently.
''Only once,'' he whispered, moving on top of her, feeling her open like a flower.
Slipping inside her, he could feel her exquisite sensitivity and knew to keep his movements slow and gentle.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear. Her hands gripped his shoulder blades, her nails digging into him. He made his tongue gentle on hers. Then she let her head sink into the pillow, held his face, and looked in his eyes; he knew she saw his hope, his desperation. Gradually he felt her body start to quicken; then he saw her eyelids flutter. Kissing her deep and hard, he knew her wanting even as he lifted his weight so she could move beneath him. Gradually he found her rhythm, then understood it and rolled her on top of him, putting his tongue to her nipple in an echo of her thighs. Perspiration dripped from her as she rode him, her whispers turning to moans in the candlelight until at last his mind lost itself in desire and he gave himself to climax.
Later, she lay draped over him facedown on his chest, enjoying a piece of sushi.
"Don't move," she said when he reached for the tray. She popped a California roll into his mouth. "You're trapped," she said. "You can't go anywhere. You're mine and I've got you."
"I like being got."
"Good."
"This is the deal," he said.
"Oh. Tarzan." She laughed in mock, breathless wonder.
"I will have nothing to do with the Highlands. After that, you do any kind of environmental law you desire but never against timber owned by Otran. Never. Not even a smidgen.''
"Yes?"
"And I will do no timber law except Otran."
"Will Otran go for this?"
"He already has."
"I'll need to talk to Patty."
"We already have."
"We? Who we?"
"Your father."
"Ah, I don't-"
He kissed her heavily on the mouth. "Don't start." He kissed her again. "Trust me."
"You absolutely will have utterly nothing to do with the Highlands."
"Utterly nothing."
"I do love you," she said.
"I suppose you won."
"You won me," she whispered.
Certain that Maria would be recuperating somewhere- probably at her parents'-Corey placed a call to Jessica Lyon. Jessica, a successful fund-raiser, was one of the few members of the McCafferty inner circle who would give her information.
"Haven't heard from you in a while," Jessica said in her usual fund-raising voice.
"So what's going on these days?"
"Well, I'm sure you heard Maria Fischer was kidnapped and escaped."
"No," Corey said. "What happened?"
"Well, nobody really knows. Some crazies snatched her and took her to a barn in the woods."
"Was she hurt?"
"I don't think so. She's in Palmer. Somebody said she called the office this morning."
For the next ten minutes, Corey forced herself to listen while Jessica chattered on about the kidnapping and upcoming environmental issues. Finally Corey closed by dangling a possible donation of $2,500, explaining that she was in Alaska and could do it only after she returned.
The German remained downstairs. Corey was surprised that he had broken so easily. She kept probing for more, but there wasn't any more. With no resistance Hans Groiter told her everything. When she gave him sodium pentathol, he became harder to understand but told her nothing new. She'd had enough experience to know when men were telling the truth. What troubled her was the fact that Groiter knew nothing of the little Jap shit who seemed to haunt her.
Seemingly nothing remained but to get rid of Dan, Maria, and then Groiter. Somehow she needed to convince the authorities that Groiter was the culprit and that he had fled. For that, she had sworn off a grave in the dirt. Bodies had a way of coming to light. She had a different plan for Hans. Even though it was a pain in the ass, she would keep him around for the few days it would take to create all the right fingerprints and other physical evidence.
Janet was turning into a fine soldier. Surprisingly, Corey was attracted to her in more ways than one. They slept in the same bed and both enjoyed the consolation of another warm body-a female body. That was the one thing that Janet had taught Corey instead of the other way around. Perhaps men were completely expendable, after all. And once she got some self-confidence, Janet had guts. So Corey took the risk of including her in her plans.
They needed a couple of extra-large travel cases on wheels and were going to town to buy them.
"Are you ready to go?" Corey asked Janet, who had just come up from the basement after feeding Groiter. True to her word, she gave Groiter real food because he talked.
"I'm ready. I fed the beast, emptied his bucket. He wants clothes, though."
"He's got his blanket. That's enough."
They walked into the garage, jumped in the Land Rover, and headed out the driveway.
"I want to get Kenji Yamada before this is over. That asshole is the one behind all this. Polluting, raping the land. He's gotta die if there's any justice."
"I suppose you're right," Janet said.
They were turning right onto the county road when Corey had an impulse. Reaching under the seat, she pulled out her Colt. From the glove compartment she took out a clean Smith amp; Wesson 9 mm and handed it to Janet. Backing up into the driveway, she turned away from town to check the small side road where she had found Groiter and the Spaniard the day they came calling. Poking the Land Rover's nose down the grown-over track, she saw the broken foliage. She slammed on the brakes.
"This could be from before-that I told you about. Or we might have some visitors. Probably berry pickers. Keep the gun hidden."
Corey stuck the. 45 down the front of her pants and pulled out her blouse. Janet did the same. Walking quietly down the road, they heard a chattering squirrel and a jay in the distance. They came to a bend and Corey crept up to a tree. When she looked around, she saw a parked four-wheel-drive.
"I don't see any berry pickers." They approached the vehicle cautiously with the guns drawn. Nobody. It was a Toyota Land Cruiser. New and loaded.
"Come on," Corey said. They pass
ed an obvious trail to the house. Running to the end of the road, Corey turned off on a small trail clear enough that men could run single file. "Most don't go this way," Corey said over her shoulder. They made a large loop used by the berry pickers. To either side there were redwoods and dense huckleberry, mixed with salal ground cover. Eventually the smaller trail intersected the larger. As they neared the main trail, Corey slowed and then crept forward. They listened. Soon they heard the swish of brush. There were whispered words. Janet and Corey crouched low in the brush.
"Speak of the devil," Corey whispered, recognizing Kenji Yamada in the lead. "Dumb shits, all tight together in a row."
All three men wore bush clothing that looked like it came out of a Macy's catalog. Corey motioned Janet to kneel. The trio would pass within twenty feet. She held out her hand to Janet and mouthed the word: "Gun." Janet placed the Smith amp; Wesson in Corey's hand, and she popped the safety.
When the men were opposite Corey, she rose with utter calm, aiming point-blank. Mouths dropped open, open hands went up. Corey shot. Both pistols cracked simultaneously. Crimson mushrooms sprung onto the torsos of the two men following Yamada. They dropped with barely a quiver.
"Get your hands on your head or you're as dead as they are," Corey said to Kenji, who still stood openmouthed. When Corey turned to look at Janet, her partner was down on one knee, shaking. "Get used to it," she said to Janet. "These guys play for keeps."
Yoshinari watched the fish in his aquarium. It stood twelve feet high, two feet thick, and ten feet long with a capacity of 2,000 gallons of salt water. There was tranquillity in the looking, and he blocked out all that was going on in America, knowing that after a time of rest his mind would create clarity of vision. A rainsquall came and went; his grandchildren ate their lunch and retired for a nap. His wife, saying nothing, and making no sound save the slight rustle of her kimono, set tea in front of him. His eyes remained opaque, and he saw nothing but the fish.
When at last the rain began to fall a second time, he rose and walked to the edge of the porch overlooking the garden. It was time to decide.