by C. R. Daems
"You bastard. Get out of here. She doesn't need your criticism." She banged weakly on his arm, tears streaming down her cheeks. He just put his arm around her. Before he could speak, I chimed in.
"My love, it's a reasonable question. He's not criticizing me. He wants to understand." Clare sort of nodded, her face still in Witton's chest. "Let me start at the beginning, if you'll get me something to eat. I'm not hungry, but the faster I eat the faster I'll recover." While we waited, Clare came over and sat on the edge of the bed holding my hand. Witton pulled up a chair on the other side, and Sam rose and moved against the wall closer to the bed but still facing the door.
"Let me start at the beginning..." As I talked, there were a few smiles and a snort or two but everyone was waiting for the punch line.
"WHAT!" Clare screamed when it finally came. Witton managed to wave her to silence.
"That's a little different from the story he told. He claims to be a bit of a hero." Witton's smile did not bode well for David-nor did Sam's. In a way, my injuries had been my fault. Normally, I shot first and determined later if I had been right. This time I had shown poor judgment in not just killing them immediately as they had shown poor judgment in not killing me immediately.
"The little lying bastard!" Clare shouted, giving Witton a mother tiger's stare.
"Of course he is, Clare. He has committed an action that cannot be forgiven or go unpunished. Sam, go collect him. I'll let you know where to take him. Sorry to leave but you're in good hands. I'll discuss your future-"
"No, you won't-" Clare jumped off the bed and headed for Witton.
"With you, Clare," he finished. Clare froze, looking from me to him as he walked out the door.
"Do you think he meant it?"
"For better or worse, I think he did."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Clare stayed with me twenty-four hours a day. Witton had arranged for a two person private room so she had a place to sleep, since she refused to leave. They released me on the fourth day over everyone's objections including Clare, until she found we would be going to my condo.
"Wow, you get this for free, including utilities?" Clare asked as she wandered from room to room. "It's not cozy," she smiled, "but it certainly is a luxury condo."
"It's not cozy because it's not home." I said, making myself comfortable on the couch and switched on some mood music. "When do you have to return to Denver?"
"I'm on extended leave. After what you've done for the paper over the years, no one is complaining." She walked into the kitchen and began opening cabinets and drawers. "I'll make some coffee if you like. And I can make a meal from what you have on hand. For someone who is never here, you have a well stocked freezer and larder."
"Someone magically keeps it stocked when they know I might be in town. As for dinner, there is a restaurant downstairs. We can go down or they will deliver if you would rather."
"That's some benefit package. I'd be impressed, except unlike the president, his cabinet, senators, etc., you earn your benefit package.
"I think for now, I'd just like to hold you in my arms and enjoy the moment."
***
Ann Marie called that evening, to let us know Witton would like to see Clare and me the next day at nine a.m. Clare and I were up early and I gave her a grand tour of the facility, including a stop for breakfast. Everyone we met was interested in meeting Clare and hearing about my recent escapade. I agreed to tell it, once, to whoever was interested after our meeting with Witton. They insisted on showing Clare the Lynn Board when we returned from our meeting with Witton.
After introducing Clare to Ann Marie, we were ushered into Witton's office.
"Well, Clare. Your TLC seems to have our patient well on the road to recovery. I've asked you here to update you on David Udella. He has pleaded guilty to a variety of charges and worked out a plea-bargain with the district attorney. He is being treated as an adult and sentenced to twenty-five years."
"That was quick. I thought you would kill him for what he did," Clare said softly.
"His options were a guilty plea under the terms we set or go free." Witton raised his hand to stop Clare. "His father understood that David, if free, wouldn't see his next birthday. The Committee preferred prison. Killing him would be too fast."
"What about, Lynn and the Kazaks?" My love pressed. Clare always surprised me. She was a gentle soul, but she could be like a pit bull when it came to me. It was fortunate she didn't carry a gun and better yet, didn't know how to shoot one.
"Assuming she wants to remain an active Kazak..." Witton paused. Clare glared at me then nodded to him. She hated it but wouldn't ask me to change. "She is on indefinite leave until she decides she's ready. Then I thought I might assign her to the Hill for a brief period of time. Her women candidates are doing well and maybe could use her presence."
Clare sat thinking for a while. I didn't dare interrupt nor did I feel like it. Clare and I needed time to recover. She nodded agreement. After some small talk, Clare and I went down to the exercise room where everyone had gathered to hear the story. I gave my account of what happened and David's sentence. It was a very sober meeting-the unthinkable had happened. A client had turned on his protector. The meeting livened up when they took Clare to see the Lynn Board. Of course, each letter had to be discussed and analyzed from the client's perspective-at my expense. I didn't mind. They were funny and it helped to relieve the tension.
***
We spent three more days at my condo. Everyone who met Clare loved her and took every opportunity to stop and talk to her. And I was the butt of everyone's jokes including Clare's. It was like a three-day roast. Clare decided the Kazaks, Witton, and I owed her for the traumatic experience they had put her through. To my amazement, Witton agreed and instructed Ann Marie to make arrangements to wherever Clare wanted to go. After a day and a night on the Internet searching, she decided on a cruise down the Snake River. Ann Marie booked the tour, hotel accommodations, and the company plane for the trip to Portland where the Empress of the West began the seven-day cruise. When we were alone on the plane, Clare had long periods of silence, while holding me in a death grip.
"Good morning, Lynn, Clare. She looks in reasonable condition, although I suspect she's not as she's using 'her' plane again."
"You're not to talk to her, Kathryn," Clare growled. "She's being punished."
"What did she do this time? Must be bad if you're here and not in Denver." Kathryn frowned and gave me a stern look.
"She almost died. The doctors said it was a miracle she didn't," she said and hit me on the shoulder-for about the hundredth time.
"That was very nasty. I don't blame you for being upset. I'll try and not be too nice to her, although it is her plane." Kathryn smiled at Clare and went off to get us drinks.
"You scared me to death. You owe me big time. I almost had a heart attack. I'm going to need a full time heart doctor if you keep this up. And I'm going prematurely gray. I'm going to look like your mother." That got me another whack on the shoulder. "I need a shrink to keep me sane enough to keep my job. Look at the wrinkles around my eyes. You're going to pay for some expensive cream to get rid of them. Look, my eyes are permanent bloodshot from crying. I look like a drunk." Another whack, as a tear leaked down one cheek.
"Damn you, Lynn. If you die, I'm going to have you put in a vase on the mantel and nag you every night. You're not going to rest in peace. I talked to Witton. He said you deviated from your normal reaction: shoot first and find out later if you were right. He always worried about that but so far, you've been right and it has saved you and your client's life. A second late and you wouldn't have survived several of your past encounters. I told him I want you to shoot first, faster from now on. He nodded agreement."
Mercifully, Katherine returned with coffee for me, a tall frothy drink for Clare, and a tray of cheeses, spreads, and crackers.
"What's that?" Clare asked when Katherine handed her the unidentified drink. She just smiled.
"A reward for taking care of your wild friend." She stood waiting as Clare took a tentative sip-then a big drink. A smile touched her lips and she nodded to Katherine.
"Thank you, Katherine. I needed that."
"What is it?" I asked. Clare just shrugged and took another drink.
"Ice cream, soda, and amaretto," Katherine said.
"Yummy."
I relaxed back-I'd been doing a lot of that lately-and listened to Clare and Kathryn talk about their jobs, and Kathryn about her male adventures on the crew's frequent layovers. I woke as Clare leaned over me to buckle me in.
"We're on our descent into Portland International Airport, my love," Clare whispered and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Not long after, we collected our luggage and exited the plane. As we did, Clare tugged on my arm.
"Look Lynn, the man over there with the sign." A man stood holding a white sign with "Lynn Fox" in black. When we reached him, his round face was all smiles.
"Lynn Fox?"
"Yes."
"I'm Jim. Ann Marie has arranged for me to be your driver for the next two days. Let's get your luggage and I'll drive you to your hotel. I'll be available for sightseeing tomorrow and getting you to the Empress of the West the following day."
Jim liked to talk and gave us a running dialog on our trip into town. At the Nines Hotel, Ann Marie had booked us a suite. By the time we checked in, we were both tired and ordered room service. After escargots, a Greek salad, rack of lamb, and a creme Brule dessert, I lay content in Clare's arms listening to mood music.
"Tomorrow we're going shopping," Clare said while gently stroking my face. "You owe me something expensive for all the worry and you need clothes. We're going on a luxury cruise and you hardly have a change of clothes at your Kazak condo."
I had to agree. But then why did I need normal clothing there, I only stayed for short periods between assignments. I was either at work or at Clare's...our Denver condo. Clare eventually pulled me into the bedroom. Naked I lay there enjoying the feel of her hands roaming my body and the kisses that followed them. These moments were precious because we didn't get that many during the year. Soon I lost awareness of time and place, lost in the ecstasy of Clare's soft, warm, and sensuous body.
***
After a leisurely breakfast, Jim drove us to Pioneer Place, an upscale shopping plaza. There, Clare dragged me into store after store and allowed for a quick lunch at the Yucatan Grill. She forced me to buy dresses, pant suits, shoes, underwear, nightwear, and accessories, which I never wear. Late that afternoon, we found ourselves in front of Tiffany's.
"You scared me to death, Lynn. You owe me," she said with tears in her eye but a wicked little smile.
"Yes, I do," I conceded. It wasn't my fault I was injured, but it didn't matter-the result was the same. I wasn't sure what she wanted since Clare didn't wear expensive jewelry. I didn't care. I would get her whatever she wanted. We exited an hour later with two platinum Milgrain wedding bands. I was speechless and radiantly happy.
***
At first, I thought Empress of the West a mistake. I had expected one of those sixteen-deck six thousand guest ships, instead I stood staring at a four-story paddleboat that would be lucky to hold three hundred people. We entered through the side, had our pictures taken, were issued IDs, and personally led to the Owner's suite-or so it was called.
"Remind me to send Ann Marie a thank you card every week for the next year," Clare said as she walked around the spacious living room and into the separate bedroom, stopping to look out at the unobstructed views in three directions. Clare had picked well. With less than three hundred people, the boat was quiet and restful. We ate breakfast each morning in the Romanov dining room, went into town and had lunch or took tours, and attended the entertainment most nights in the Golden Nugget showroom. In between, we spent hours reading in our room, watching the scenery from our unobstructed views of the river, and hours cheek to cheek building memories that would have to last until the next time. At times, I could hear Clare late in the night softly crying, wondering if there would be a next time. I couldn't afford to think in those terms. I was a Kazak and lived in the moment. Nevertheless, the perfect vacation for two people who needed time to heal-Clare mentally and me physically. The people on the boat were friendly with few frowns and whispered comments; however, those ceased after the first two days, when we didn't strip and dance on the tables. The stop at Pendleton turned out to be interesting, for me. The tour provided transportation to the Pendleton Rodeo grounds. During the intermission, Clare and I were wandering around the small shops when two men in cowboy clothing approached. I let go of Clare's hand and stepped slightly in front of her.
"Lookie here, Burt. Two Lesbians in need of a cure," said a lanky man in his late twenties. The muscular young man with him grabbed his crouch and pushed it forward in a jerky fashion. "I got the cure right here. Ten inches of it."
"Look, love: two queers, no...bull riders!" I thought that was quite good for the spur of the moment. Clare choked. The lanky guy stood there expressionless still digesting what I had meant. The muscular one lunged at me with a fist to my face. I twisted around and drove a back kick into his face. Blood and teeth exploded as bone cracked. For a moment, his forward motion stopped and he stood still like he had run into a wall, and then collapsed onto his knees with his bloody hands over nose and mouth. His friend reached down and unbuckled both of his spurs.
"See these you queer bitch. Every time you look in the mirror you're going to remember me." He took two steps towards me and stopped just out of my leg reach. I hadn't moved like he expected, so he lunged with a sideways swipe at my face. I dropped to the ground and shot out a sidekick to his leading knee, which had most of his weight. It gave way with a satisfying crunch and he fell-into another kick to his head. I rolled backward onto my feet.
"Are you alright?" Clare said, looking pale.
"Yes, Clare. But I don't think we're going get that cure they were talking about," I said, and got another smack in the arm. Just then, a policeman approached.
"What happened here?" he said as he knelt down to examine the lanky young guy who was out cold.
"She attacked us," the other man screamed while pointing in my direction.
"I think you should call for ambulance. Those two seem to have hurt themselves. And before you do anything stupid, like those two, call your police chief and tell him two idiots attacked a Kazak." I pushed up my sleeve to show my tattoo. "Badge 231." I was pleasantly surprised when he did, after a call for an ambulance.
"Here, the chief would like to talk to you."
Another pleasant surprise, the chief was an avid reader of Clare's articles and knew about the Kazak immunity. A half hour later, he was buying us lunch and getting Clare's autograph. Back on the boat, the story got around quickly and Clare was besieged with questions about her articles. Clare kept using "he" when referring to the unknown Kazak, so except for quick glances off to the side where I sat, she was the main attraction. The rest of the trip continued to be restful, healing, and moments of ecstasy-no drugs needed.
***
Clare had to get back to work, so we returned to Denver. I stayed two weeks and gave Clare an interview on my last assignment. In a way, it justified Clare's time off, although I doubted the Managing Editor cared. Clare was the Post's star and had doubled the paper's readership and gained some national recognition with her Kazak series. Feeling guilty, I call Witton. Ann Marie answered.
"Lynn, I hope this means you're healthy again. And thank you for the year's tickets at Kennedy Center."
"You are most welcome. I have to keep my booking agent happy. The accommodations you made for us were fantastic. Thank you."
"Any time, Lynn. Wait a second. Witton's available now." The phone went on hold and then Witton picked up."
"I guess this means you're bored and ready to start earning your pay again?"
"It was a great vacation and I'm well enough to take another easy assign
ment." I quipped. Witton has frequently been surprised when what should be a routine assignment turned into a duel with Assassins. He had long ago given up trying to determine which was which.
"I have nothing but hard ones at the moment, so I'd like you to go to the Hill until I can find an easy one. The company plane will be available tomorrow to fly you there."
I thought that a bit strange since Kazaks were always in short supply. I wondered if the Committee had something to do with that decision, since they seemed to be picking my assignments, not Witton. I felt a little disappointed. I love being a Kazak and the diverse people and environments each assignment provided. Since he hung up, I gathered he didn't plan to answer questions.
CHAPTER NINE
The company helicopter was waiting when I arrived at Spokane International Airport and Master Johar, the senior Kazak on the Hill, was waiting as we settled on the helipad.
"Master Lynn, it is a pleasant surprise to see you so soon again," Johar said as I exited the helicopter. He looked the same today as when I entered the school for the first time almost fifteen years ago. The similarities to Master Jianyu were remarkable. Both looked frail and harmless. I almost laughed.
"Master Johar." I nodded. I couldn't resist. "Were you or the Hill here first?"
He smiled. "I can't remember." He spent the next couple of hours bringing me up to date on the women candidates. Jody, Megan, and Carla had passed the third challenge. They were now in their sixth year and preparing for the fourth challenge.
"They have done much better than any of the Kazak instructors thought when you started the program. Of course, they did have an orientation program with that infamous Lynn the Fox."
"Yes, that was a definite advantage. But I think it only offset the natural advantage the men have. The idea was to even the odds, not to give the women an advantage."
"In the end, if any of them qualify they will have earned the title, Kazak. Any advantage they might have had is gone," Johar said. I agreed. The next day, I met with the women. They were all smiles.