Before leaving the private club where the meeting had taken place, Walter stepped into the men’s room. After taking care of business there, he gave the signal, by brushing the side of his nose with his index finger just like a scam artist from the roaring 1920s, and signaled his security team leader that he was going off on his own.
After Walter walked out of the back door, the team set up around the club and waited patiently for his return, expecting it to be in two to three hours if all followed the usual pattern.
John Levy walked into the restroom and into a stall. Closing his eyes, he bumped his head against the tile wall before carefully pulling out the small device from his pocket and pushing the button.
. . .
Walter entered the private automobile with the blacked-out windows and was greeted by Mr. Sung Hong, who Walter believed was a high level lobbyist. Because Sung provided access to the spectacular Su Ling, Walter was willing deal with him without asking too many questions.
A fifteen-minute drive through Washington, D.C. traffic, took them to a small luxury hotel located on a quiet side street. Sung provided a hat and tinted glasses for Walter along with a hotel key. While Walter exited the car, Sung simply said, “Four hundred.” Walter understood that the key would open the door to suite number 400.
Walter tried and missed sliding the door key card into the door’s key slot. A quick glance revealed the tent that had formed in the front of his pants. His anticipation appeared to be even more than usual this evening. It had been over a month since he had last seen Su. He had tried to wean himself from her pleasures, especially in light of what the Chinese government had done to the U.S. and world economy. When the Chinese government had stopped importing all foreign oil, except for oil from Russia, the rest of the world had learned immediately how important the oil industry was. An economic downward spiral had ensued. The stock market lost over one third of its value in less than fifteen days. The decline continued at a slow, but depressingly steady rate. The hate for the PRC government had reached an all-time high, making visits to see Su even more difficult. Unfortunately, after having enjoyed Su Ling’s talents, the other two girls he had tried in the interim were like trying to drink a cheap whiskey after an initial glass of the finest scotch. One’s taste buds, or your sexual nervous system (Walter began to giggle softly at his own clever phrase), simply wouldn’t tolerate the inferior product.
Finally, he managed to get the key into the slot and entered the brightly lit room. Standing at the side bar was the most beautiful China doll he had ever seen or experienced. Of medium height with black hair and elf-like features, Su set the standard for sensuality. He loved her hair, which had given him exquisite sexual pleasure. His attention focused on her full, round breasts and the view of her pubis, clearly visible through her nearly sheer light blue silk robe. She was in the process of making his favorite expensive single-malt scotch on the rocks.
Before Su could hand him his drink, he gathered her up in his arms for a sloppy kiss. It wasn’t an affectionate or intimate kiss, but the kind of kiss meant to hold her in place while his hands roamed over her body. Walter’s fingers began to pinch her left nipple. She deftly scooped up his drink and her wine glass and moved over to the couch. Walter, with his tented trousers, followed as if he was on a leash.
“Oh, Walter,” Su cooed softly in her accented China doll voice. “You too ready now. Tonight I want three times you scale the mountain.” Her smile promised an incredible adventure to come. “You so tense. Tell me what trouble you.” She had left the couch and had gone behind Walter to begin massaging his shoulders.
“Ahhhhh,” Walter sighed with contentment, knowing he would get what he wanted soon enough. “The damned Chinese government…” Walter continued to complain about the Chinese-caused economic crisis and the details of what the Fontaine administration intended to do about it.
It took over twenty minutes before Walter began to repeat himself, under her soft but effective elicitation techniques. Su then moved her hands from his shoulders and began to slide them down his chest to his crotch while her breasts fell from her robe to encircle his head. Next, she moved around the couch to take up his feet, practicing her well-trained art of reflexology to first relax his body, and then to stimulate him. Within seconds, he achieved his first climax, all from her massaging his feet and brushing him with her hair. With her intelligence job done for this visit, she concentrated on simply getting him off.
After Walter left, she showered to wash off the whole experience and then gathered her things to leave. In the back of her mind, she hoped fervently that this was the last time she would have to endure the fat, ugly man.
Chapter 7
Christmas - Plus Four Days
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
1800 Hours EST
Hugh McIntyre met with the Director in his office, located on the top floor of the Hoover building. When Hugh entered the office, Director Kidd thought of the day, over two months earlier, when Hugh had brought a fantastic story that included a Chinese intelligence operation targeting the First Man. Hugh’s daughter, Lisa, had come to her father and told him about meeting a Chinese graduate student that was a virtual sex slave of the Chinese MSS. Hugh worked in the Counterterrorism Division, but was heavily skeptical of his daughter’s story until he met Su Ling. He had then learned of a long-term Chinese intelligence operation that targeted Walter Fontaine. Su Ling was to provide exotic sex to Walter while skillfully and covertly interrogating him for the cameras of the MSS.
Hugh, like his daughter Lisa, had been particularly aghast at the description of the MSS’s “Charm School,” located outside of Shanghai. It was designed to prepare girls, and a few boys, for espionage penetration operations. The training involved brutally teaching them to use sex and other techniques to extract information. Each student either learned to be effective, or they were killed. Until he actually saw Walter taken to a luxury Washington, D.C. hotel by a known MSS Officer where Su was waiting for him, he had doubted the story. With photographic evidence and some very covert computer research in hand, he met with Director Kidd to ask what he should do.
Coming back to the present, Hugh blinked as Allen said, “Hugh, it’s good to see you.” Hugh could tell from the look in his intelligent eyes that he genuinely meant what he said. “What have you got for me?”
Hugh dove right into the briefing, without the usually expected fawning over the Director. With this man, it was both unnecessary and unwanted.
“The target and our source had another meeting last night.” Allen nodded and appreciated Hugh’s discretion in the matter.
“And I don’t mind telling you, allowing this to go on seems very morally wrong to me, Sir. We’re essentially allowing him to rape her with our knowledge and acquiescence.”
Allen nodded gravely. “Hugh, we both know it’s wrong, but she has been trained – for years – to do just that. Remember, you will be her ticket out of slavery to the Chinese government.”
Hugh bowed his head forward, acknowledging the Director’s point. “I’m sorry Sir, it just bothers me.”
“I would worry about you if it didn’t,” Allen said. After a pause, he continued, “Did you receive a heads up from our new friend?”
“Yes, sir, I did. Fortunately our surveillance team was not detected by his team. I knew our guys were good, but I must admit I am surprised how good.” Hugh was still amazed that the Director insisted on Hugh being his point of contact involving the super-secret task force, which was headed up by a Deputy Assistant Director. Hugh was at least three steps below a Deputy Assistant Director in the pecking order.
“Anything else?” Allen’s question was light and casual, but his eyes were probing deeply into Hugh’s own eyes.
“Yes, sir.” Hugh said this with an equally light sounding response. “I was able to get some recordings of my own and will hand carry a report of the results to your office tomorrow. A quick review confirmed everything we have suspected so far. We could wrap things up with what we have, but one more meeting between them would, shall we say, ice the cake. I am, however, concerned the other side might discover what we are doing from the technical aspect.”
Hugh had prevailed upon Su Ling to hide a tiny, passive recorder in the hotel room the previous evening. The NSA contact had assured Hugh it would not be found by a normal room sweep for bugs, but it was not their life that depended upon it.
After a deep breath Allen said, “One more meeting with recordings and I’ll go to the President. Agreed?”
“Yes, sir. I think that would be best.” As an afterthought, Hugh said, “It may take me forty-eight hours to get the next report properly written, sir. Will that be soon enough for you to brief the President?”
The Director sagely looked at Hugh, nodded, and then said, “Yes, that will be fine. I expect you to take any other appropriate steps as we previously discussed.”
“Will do, sir. Anything else?”
“No, Hugh. Thank you for your time and for everything you’re doing. We may not be able to talk much when this wraps up so I also want you to know how much I really appreciate everything you’ve done, even knowing the probable cost.”
“Just doing my duty.” Hugh said this as he rose to leave the Director’s office. “Good night, sir.”
. . .
Northern Virginia
2000 Hours EST
“Daddy, you CAN’T stop me from meeting Su! She needs me!” Lisa was nearly in tears after her father, Hugh, had asked his daughter to refrain from meeting Su Ling again for the time being.
“Sweetheart, it’s too dangerous for you to meet her. If they catch her meeting you, they’ll probably arrest her!”
“I know you said that, but you know how sharp she is, and I’m no slouch when it comes to analysis and acting.” She couldn’t help but let a little smile cross her face. She was in the process of getting two Ph.D.’s at George Washington University in Chemistry and Biology, along with mentoring a grad student and working on a school-funded project.
Hugh grudgingly acknowledged his daughter’s amazing capabilities and had taken her word that Su Ling was just as smart as she was. This made it logical that Lisa and Su would become either great friends or dangerous enemies. These traits that had started their friendship in the Washington, D.C. coffee shop several months earlier.
Lisa continued in her, this-should-be-obvious-to-you voice, “And really, Dad, if Su is caught meeting me, it would be a whole lot easier on her than being caught meeting you!”
Hugh should be used to his daughter manipulating him with logic instead of the emotion that most fathers battle.
“Most importantly, Dad, I think she needs me - me and my friendship. You know, emotionally. That thing that girls have, that guys have too, but keep it buried too deep to keep them sane.”
Handling his most difficult confidential source in the past was nothing compared to verbally sparring with his daughter.
“Okay, honey. Okay. Keep it to a minimum and I want you to let me know personally when you have the meetings. Agreed?”
He suddenly found his daughter giving him a big hug and sniffling into his shoulder. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Daddy, how long is she going to have to continue doing those terrible things? I woke up last night with his picture in my head, and I almost threw up!”
Hugh thought about placating his daughter’s fears, but instantly knew it wouldn’t fly with her. “Pumpkin, I don’t really know. As I said before, it will be soon. And when it does roll up, you know she’ll have to disappear, right?”
Lisa nodded.
“I’m also thinking,” Hugh said quietly, “you will have to do so as well. I can’t say where, yet, but I do have a place in mind.”
Lisa immediately started forming her most mischievous grin. “It wouldn’t be Kentucky, would it?” The look on Hugh’s face pretty much gave it away.
“I, I really can’t say right now, Pumpkin.”
Lisa let it pass. “That will work out just fine, Daddy. With everything that is happening, I think I’d rather be off the East Coast anyway. Something tells me things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better. Am I right?”
“I wish I could say otherwise,” Hugh said with feeling. “Unfortunately, I can’t. I will really feel a lot better if you were out of here. Your mother, too, but she won’t go, so at least I’ll have one less McIntyre to worry about.” With that he got another hug.
Chapter 8
New Year’s Eve
The Broehm Residence
Outside Cronin, Kentucky
1900 Hours EST
Mike Broehm usually felt each one of his forty-eight years, but today was an exception. He enjoyed the controlled chaos going on in his house as his closest friends and their families gathered for New Year’s Eve dinner. He loved when his two small grandchildren chased the neighbor kids around the house while the wonderful aroma of food wafted out from the kitchen.
When he thought about it, Mike knew his life was blessed. After all, with so many bad things happening in the country, he had a growing number of close friends and neighbors he could count on. On top of that, he dropped thirty-five pounds over the last six months and no longer needed to take blood pressure medicine. This was the time of year to appreciate the good things in his life.
“Hey, Mike.” Rollie McDermott called from the area of the small bar in the corner. “Looks like you could use a beverage.”
Rollie, with his bright red hair, was probably watching as Mike had removed the empty bottle from its insulated cozy.
“Yeah, thanks, Rollie. How about some of that spiced cider?” Mike replied as he walked over to the bar. The atmosphere was permeated by a feeling of love and even leftover holiday spirit that continued after the neighborhood meeting and tree lighting event held a week before Christmas.
In a neighborhood of over two-hundred fifty homes surrounded by farmland, more than three hundred people had attended the meeting. The tree lighting ceremony was accompanied by the singing of carols. In addition to the holiday celebration, Mike wanted everyone to know the status of the neighborhood’s emergency preparations. The association secretary had made up a list of their accomplishments. These included over one hundred eighty families reported having at least two weeks of emergency supplies. This included bottled water and prescription medications for their families. One hundred twenty-one families reported having over two months of supplies.
Mike had asked the secretary to poll the entire neighborhood, assuring everyone no record would be kept of what any individual family had. If no record was made of what any individual family had, then folks would be more likely to share the information with her. Most were honest, with the probable exception of Kerry DuBois. Kerry had told her he had only three days of supplies. Behind him, his long-suffering wife had bowed and shaken her head, confirming the fact that her husband was lying. Mike privately thought it was divine providence that Kerry did not have children to learn to be a socialist without morals like him.
Many of the neighbors had lost their jobs over the past few months as the economy continued to nosedive. This had made the Christmas celebration even more important for the neighborhood. Everyone had thoroughly enjoyed the potluck dinner, with the leftovers designated for those families out of work. By design, Mike and other neighbors insured several trays of leftovers were available so that each struggling family would have at least two extra cafeteria-size
d trays of food.
From a banker in the neighborhood, Mike had learned about a procedure for dramatically lowering, or even postponing, required mortgage payments. After spreading this information around, no one was going to lose their home in these terrible economic times, at least for now. Mike’s efforts in this regard had not gone unnoticed within the neighborhood, either.
At the tree lighting, Mike gave a heartfelt prayer of thanks for everyone’s hard work and how they had pulled together in this time of need. When he was about to speak, he felt the all-too-familiar rising rush of anxiety that came when others looked to him for leadership. A feeling of panic seemed to flood into his brain whenever he was put in charge of anything.
He had been a fourteen-year-old Boy Scout on an overnight hike and campout in the Red River Gorge. After dark, a park ranger tracked down the Scoutmaster, causing him to leave to take an emergency telephone call. In those days before cell telephones, a hike to the nearest telephone was required. With no Assistant Scoutmaster present Mike was placed in charge of the eighteen-member troop of Boy Scouts.
No sooner was the Scoutmaster out of sight, the two most mischievous boys in the troop decided to sneak off to smoke smuggled cigarettes. Twenty minutes later, Mike thought to do a head count and found the boys missing. He then sent two trusted senior Scouts to find the smokers and bring them back. They found them, but the two smokers had climbed over a fence at a seventy-five-foot high overlook and had jumped out to a freestanding rock shelf. They refused to come back, so one of the senior scouts had tried to jump over to their rock shelf with disastrous results. By the time the Scoutmaster returned, he found Mike nearly delirious with grief and beginning his second continuous hour of CPR on the lifeless scout.
The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2) Page 5