White Diamonds (Capitol Chronicles Book 2)

by Shirley Hailstock

  Sandra was relieved. She'd been afraid that her old friend would not want to link her name with Sandra's, since knowing her could mean being investigated and questioned by the DOD.

  Marjorie led them to a lovely room done in soft colors of rose and beige. "I must say, Sandra, I am a little surprised at your actions." A man watching television stood up as they came in. "This is my husband, Earl Morrison," Marjorie introduced. "Earl, my college roommate and the missing senator."

  "Don't mind her," Earl said, switching off the television and shaking hands with them. He was a big man, looked like he'd played football for a pro team sometime in the past. "The pregnancy has affected her sense of humor."

  They all laughed. "Sit down," Marjorie said.

  Sandra took a seat on the sofa. Wyatt sat next to her. Marjorie sat on a straight-back chair that didn't go with any of the furniture. Sandra knew it was the chair that had been brought in for her back.

  "Let me get you something to drink," Earl offered.

  When he'd left the room, Sandra said, "I didn't know you were married."

  "That's what happens when you bury yourself up in New Jersey. Not even news gets in up there."

  "That’s not true," Sandra said, a wide smile on her face.

  "Earl and I met two years ago at a NABE, National Association of Black Educators' Convention. I'm at Howard and he's at American University. We fell in love, got married, and in another month we'll be a trio."

  "Marjorie, that's wonderful."

  "Congratulations," Wyatt echoed.

  Earl returned and passed out glasses of wine. Marjorie's contained sparkling cider.

  "I've been expecting you, Sandra."

  She and Wyatt exchanged a glance. "Why?"

  "Because of the package."

  "What package?" Wyatt asked.

  "It came a few days ago. It's all dressed up like a little treasure chest. A note arrived with it saying to hold it and that you would be by to pick it up."

  "May I have it?" Sandra asked.

  "Sure." Marjorie pulled up her bulky body and left the room. She came back with a small jewel-encrusted case.

  "It's Jeff's," she whispered to Wyatt.

  "I've been dying to find out what's inside," Marjorie said. "In another day or two I don't know if I could have held out any longer."

  Sandra looked to Wyatt for guidance. Should she open the box? She didn't want to have to explain if she found fifteen ten-carat stones inside.

  Sandra tried the lid. "It's locked," she said, trying desperately to keep the relief out of her voice.

  "I'll bet I have a key," Marjorie smiled. "It's not that expensive a case. I've seen several like it in the stores. I'll bet my luggage keys will fit it." She was on her feet and rushing from the room before Sandra could stop her. She returned faster than any woman in her final trimester should be allowed to travel.

  "Try this."

  Sandra took the thin key with a square head and inserted it in the lock. "It doesn't fit."

  When Marjorie opened her hand, three other kinds of small keys lay there. Sandra tried them. The second one turned and she heard a slight click. The chest was open. She pulled the key out and laid it on her lap. Slowly, she lifted the top. Silently she thanked God the chest didn't open to a 180-degree angle. Only Wyatt, sitting next to her, could see to the bottom of it. The stones lay there, white against a black velvet background. She felt him take in a breath, but could discern no physical movement.

  Sandra reached inside. At the back of the chest was a computer disk. She wondered what was on it. Had Jeff left them a message? She pulled it free, being careful not to disturb the stones.

  "Who's it from?" Earl asked. "It arrived by messenger, but no one could tell us who sent it."

  "It has something to do with the reason you two are running." Marjorie stated the truth.

  "Yes, it does," Wyatt told her. "The less you know the better for you. You're a family. We won’t make our problems yours."

  "Sandra, is there anything I can do?" Marjorie asked.

  She shook her head.

  "The least we can do is let you look at what's on the disk," Earl offered. He stood as if ready to lead them to an office.

  Closing the chest, they stood and followed him. He turned on the machinery and left them in private.

  "What’s on it?" Marjorie asked the moment they returned to the room.

  "It's encrypted," Sandra told her, glad she could speak the truth. "All we could see were hearts, flowers, and other ASCII symbols filling the screen."

  "I know a person who might be able to break an encryption code." Earl reached for his wife. "Brooke Richards works for the university. She's phenomenal with those kinds of things, but she, too, is away on maternity leave."

  ***

  Lance slammed the door. He'd taken his date home and left her there alone, much to her surprise. His, too. Everett had ruined his evening with news that he had been in direct contact with Randolph and Rutledge's daughter. This was clearly his, not Horton's, investigation and he did not take kindly to anyone interfering, and that included the President of the United States.

  Pulling at the tie of his immaculate suit, he took the stairs two at a time. He went into his bedroom. He would find the stones. He and not Everett Horton. Horton was a poor President, despite the popularity of the polls. What did polls know? They were as fickle as the wind. One day they were for you and the next they'd crucify you.

  Well, they would crucify Horton. Casey, too. He was sorry about that, but it couldn't be helped. Horton had lost it. The battle lines had been drawn and fought and there was no way he could win. Even if he managed to keep it quiet, keep the news out of the papers, there were too many people who knew about it. Too many people who'd been involved in the theft, the cover-up, and the search. Senator Randolph and Senator Rutledge's daughter couldn't have played better roles if they'd had a script.

  Lance put his tie on the rack in the closet and proceeded to undress. He stripped to his shorts and walked to the adjoining room which he'd converted to a gym.

  Standing in the middle of the mirrored hall, he surveyed the iron-and-steel equipment. Taking a deep breath, he began his routine of stretching before picking one of the many machines to work his biceps into hard-as-steel muscles.

  Twenty minutes later, he felt better, in fact, he felt great. If Everett continued on his present course, Lance would get his office years before he planned.

  ***

  Wyatt woke to the wind. He was still alive. The smell of coffee wafted through the air; flavored coffee, Irish cream, he guessed. He'd slept badly. Despite Sandra next to him and the comfortable guest bed that Marjorie insisted they use, thoughts of what to do now that they actually had possession of the stones commanded his conscious attention.

  He'd heard Earl leave about seven-thirty. The house had been quiet since then, but now Marjorie was moving around downstairs. He could hear her muted sounds as she went about her morning routine. He leaned over, looking at Sandra sleeping.

  His breath caught at how beautiful she was in the morning sunlight. He smoothed back her hair and studied her features. Her dark-brown skin contrasted with the bedding. The sun streaming through the windows highlighted her rich brandy skin. Her hair, loose from the clamp, was thick and lustrous. He threaded his fingers through it.

  Wyatt continued playing in her hair as he glanced through the window. The bare branches of trees waved in the morning wind. It was strong, bantering against the windows and trying helplessly to get inside. Sandra was warm under the blankets.

  He hated to wake her, but it was time for them to go. He knew how she felt about the stones. He agreed with her for the most part Chip should never have developed such a dangerous system, but the fact remained it existed. And since it existed and was in more hands than a few, he had to decide what to tell the President and what to do with the actual stones.

  He picked up the chest and opened the box. The computer disk sat securely in place. He stared at
it, willing it to give up its encrypted secret. White diamonds, he thought, fingering the stones. They were beautiful. He could see them set into a necklace gracing Sandra's beautiful neck. Too bad they weren't what they appeared to be.

  What would he do if he were in Everett Horton’s shoes? The entire country looked to him for direction. The world regarded him as a wise leader. Project Eagle represented power, true and absolute. According to his high school history teachers, absolute power had destroyed many lives and many leaders. Eventually the masses would rise up and overthrow the dictator making their lives miserable.

  With a weapon like Project Eagle, would there be a method of overthrowing the user? How much secrecy would surround such a device? How long would it be before world leaders fought each other for possession of the device? It was too dangerous.

  Wyatt picked up one of the stones and held it up to the light. It was brilliant, near perfect to the naked eye. He searched it, trying to find a compromise to the two arguments that would change the course of world power. Wasn't that what the President did? He represented the interest of all the people, not just one group. Where was the compromise here? Who stood to gain and who stood to lose?

  Wyatt never had a problem so urgent and so necessary than the one he studied embedded inside a white diamond.

  The President had said they needed to activate the system in order to find out where the other one had been assembled. If they didn't actively find it, whoever had stolen it would have all the time in the world to develop the one final piece. With the number of computer hackers, experts, and advancements in technology out there, a working system could probably be operational before the end of the year. The danger with that option was that the owners of the new system would be some other government. Whatever that agenda might be, it would certainly be intensified with a weapon as powerful as Project Eagle.

  He dropped the stone into the chest and closed it. Letting his head roll back, he stared at the sky. The sunlight warmed his face and felt good on his skin. Activating the system was just as dangerous. It was natural to test it, make sure it would do what it had been designed to do. Once that was seen and used, the probability of it being moth-balled was about as remote as bottling sunshine.

  There had to be another solution. Maybe when they got the disk read, something would come to him. It had to. He was a novice congressman, not the President or some elder statesman with years of experience. He wasn't Thomas Jefferson who could visualize the future and know what needed to be done. Chip had handed him an awesome legacy. He'd put the world's most basic right in his hands: the right to free speech. It was up to him to protect that right and make sure it endured today and into the future. Could he do it?

  ***

  Sandra had been staring at Wyatt for some time. She could tell he was grappling with a problem. She knew what it was and knew its gravity. It had disturbed her sleep since Sam Parker had explained Project Eagle's capabilities.

  When he'd first come to her, his body torn, his face bruised, she'd been afraid that she'd do something to make his injuries worse. Now, without the discoloring bruises and with barely a noticeable twinge in his side, she trembled for another reason. Just looking at him made her weak. Her thoughts turned to John. They were alike and different. They were both leaders, decisive and caring about the needs of other people. They were both strong men, but where John had an openly compassionate face, Wyatt often hid his behind a facade. Only when he'd made love to her did she feel he was completely open; everything he thought and felt was clearly revealed in his face and body then.

  She reached over and rubbed her fingers against his beard-roughened skin.

  "Did I wake you?" he asked, taking her hand.

  "No," she said, finding her voice husky and thick. She pulled herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. Her hair fell like ragged pencil points. Wyatt stared at her. His eyes moved all over her face, then his fingers threaded through her hair and he pulled her to him. Their mouths touched, tasted, molded. She ran her hand along his chest. Pearly buttons trapped her seeking fingers and she released them one by one. Her hands went inside the fabric to find hot skin waiting. He was smooth. Her fingers roved unhampered until she came to the definable muscles of his chest. Her thumb padded over his flat nipple and she could feel the tremor run through him like liquid lightning. Its speed caught her, too, as her blood began a song as old as time. His mouth took hers deeply, his tongue inside tasting, draining her of its sweet nectar. She freely gave and took what he offered.

  Her heartbeat accelerated as the lightning erupted around her. Wyatt levered himself up and pushed her back onto the mattress. His hands moved over her, finding and bringing to life every erotic spot on her body. She moaned her pleasures at each new point of contact. He pushed the short but voluminous nightgown Marjorie had provided over her head and exposed her maple-warm sweetness to the morning light and his desirous eyes. He drank her in before his head bent and took one hardened chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth.

  Sandra arched toward him as rapture streaked inside her. Her body turned to syrup and melted under Wyatt's exquisite torture. She knew then, knew as his hands massaged her flesh and brought every inch of her to life, that she hadn't been alive before she'd met him. The moment he'd opened his eyes and she looked into their depths, she'd known they would end here, locked together in each other's arms, showing each other what life meant, the reason man and woman walked the earth. "Wyatt!" she cried his name as his wet tongue licked her stomach and fire burned her. He was undoing her, taking her apart piece by piece, and she was helpless to stop him. She didn't want to stop him. She wanted everything he was doing to her. She gasped for breath as he kissed her thighs and the apex of her legs. Her heart beat wildly at the spot where he pressed his mouth. Sandra knew he could feel it. She could hear the rush of blood singing through her system.

  Reaching for him, Wyatt took her hands and worked his way back in an arousingly slow journey that ended at her mouth. His hands still touched her everywhere. He drew small circles over her belly. They widened into ripples until they reached the point of her body that throbbed for him. His fingers entered her. She gasped at the pleasure his touch gave her. The pad of his thumb sought and found the spot on her the drove her insane. She cried his name over and over as he moved with a designed rhythm that took her to the brink of madness.

  Only then did he remove his hand and enter her. With patience and superhuman control, he walked his way into her, creeping along inch by glorious inch. Her mouth opened and a low moan escaped. An ecstasy that she'd never known racked her body, shredding her control into ribbons of pleasure.

  Her legs wrapped around him. Wyatt groaned. She was going to kill him, he thought. His arms went around her. Telling himself to take his time, he savored every hot inch of her. Finally, cupping her cheeks in his hands, he ground her hips into his. Her fingernails jabbed into his flesh as her tight body caught and held him. The slight pain pushed him forward as the rhythm of centuries joined them. Her hands roamed over his back in a frenzy that drove him deeper and deeper into her. He couldn't stop now if he wanted to. He wanted her as he'd never wanted another woman. He wanted to make her his so completely that she'd remember their lovemaking for the rest of her life. He wanted her to know this was more than sex; he wanted her to know he was committed to her and only her.

  His heart pounded, threatened to burst in his chest. He filled her over and over again. Each time he knew would be his last. He was going to die inside her. Her body spoke to him, telling him of a need he'd never known was there. Deep and wanting. She could fulfill it. Only she had the secret formula the could make him whole, give him life. He had to have it. He was weak and powerful at the same time, driving himself at her demand. And she demanded!

  "Wyatt, she cried. "Wyatt." Her head beat the pillow as it flopped from side to side. Wyatt's control snapped with her words. His body took hers, hard and fast. She took every powerful thrust, returning each one with a power great
er than the sum or her parts.

  Suddenly, he was no longer part of the room. They'd transformed into light and energy. He and Sandra had found that place all lovers sought. That place where souls burned together. Like two planets, cracked away from the sun and flung into space, they whirled fiery and spinning. Coming together, combining, burning, the heat of their pulsating bodies intensifying, they incinerated, transformed into pure energy.

  He felt the grip that told him he was nearing the point where the madness would take over, where life began, where the most deliriously rapturous sensation man could know would occur. It was harder, tighter, more intense than he could ever remember. Wyatt expected to explode, waited for it, welcomed the release, anticipated the wonderful sensations Sandra would make him feel. Yet, he didn't burst. Together they seemed to implode, pulling everything with them. There was a calmness, quiet, as if time and sensation had stopped for a space of a millisecond. Then it came. The big bang. Like creation, the world, his world, he and Sandra were part of the nuclear blast that came together in the void and forged a shining new world.

  Chapter 17

  Sandra drove the Porsche fast. Porsches were designed for speed and today she felt like giving the small automobile its full head. She sped up and down the rolling Maryland hillside en route to Grant and Brooke Richards' house. Wyatt said nothing. He didn't ask her to slow down or point out that they could ill afford to be stopped by a local policeman trying to make quota for the month.

  She was alive and happy, and after making love with Wyatt this morning, she refused to let anything dim her view of the world. The drive from Marjorie’s took over an hour, but the sky was clear and the roads deserted. It was her kind of day. She could drive forever on a day like this one.