Two Jakes

by Lawrence de Maria

  “I’d rather an old impotentate, if it’s all the same.” Alana yawned and stretched her naked body languidly.

  Pappas laughed delightedly. “Oh, Alana. You have been paying attention.” She got up and threw on a bright red robe. “Stay here, I have a treat for you.”

  A moment later she returned with a handsome young boy of Alana’s age.

  “Carlo!” Alana squealed with delight. “You are back.”

  The two embraced. The older woman started to leave.

  “Where are you going, Vera?” Alana asked. “Don’t you want to join us?”

  “Not tonight, dears. Enjoy yourselves. I will see you are not disturbed.”

  Alana and Carlo had been brought to the bordello within weeks of each other. After realizing that rescue was not forthcoming they found some solace in each other’s arms. Although their training included other young men and women, as well as private sessions with the madam, they were allowed exclusive time with each other. Highly sexed as she was, Alana enjoyed all her encounters with the other trainees, but none more than those with Carlo.

  After an hour of teen talk, they had sex. Despite rising passion, they heard loud noises, including screams, coming from elsewhere in the huge compound.

  “No wonder the old bitch didn’t want to stay,” Carlo said, slowing his movements. “There must be a big party going on. Rowdy bunch. Probably some sado shit.”

  “Who cares?” Alana said. “Don’t move. I want to show you something I can do. We can come together.”

  A few moments later, as they reached their peak, the door crashed open. Before either could react, a man in black fatigues rushed to the bed and pulled Carlo off by his hair and calmly slit his throat, then dropped him to the floor. Alana screamed and reached for her lover, who was gurgling horribly. The killer grabbed her and threw her on the bed.

  “Go easy with her!”

  Another man entered the room. A tall, commanding figure holding a smoking machine pistol.

  “Put her in my jeep.”

  Carlo’s killer wrapped Alana in a sheet and picked her up effortlessly. She clawed at his face. The other man patted her gently on her cheek.

  “Easy child. You are going home. Cover her eyes.”

  “Yes, Capitán.”

  She felt herself being carried down the stairs. The man’s hand on her face smelled of cordite, the odor reminiscent of her days hunting rabbits or deer with her grandfather.

  “Alana, for the love of God, please help me.”

  Alana ripped away the hand. Vera Pappas and several other men and women, in various states of undress, were kneeling on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, guarded by men with automatic weapons. Vera’s hands were lifted in supplication.

  “Please talk to them. Tell them what we mean to each other!”

  Alana was rushed out the door and placed in the back of a camouflaged Humvee between two burly men. She started to shiver. One of the men shrugged out of his tunic and wrapped it around her. Looking out, she could see that the compound’s courtyard was packed with several similar vehicles and was swarming with armed men. Moments later the “Capitán” climbed in and sat across from her. Taking off his own jacket, he wrapped her legs and feet with it. Then he reached into a compartment and brought out a thermos. He poured something into a cup.

  “Brandy.”

  Alana nodded and took a deep swallow, gagging slightly. The men laughed. One of them pounded her gently on the back and said, “Good girl.”

  “Your grandfather would be proud,” the captain said.

  “You know Grandpapa?”

  “He sent us. It took us a while to find you. But he never gave up hope.”

  They were interrupted by gunfire and screams from inside the bordello. Then silence. A gunman came to the window. The leader looked at him.

  “Meurto,” the man said.

  Alana looked at the captain.

  “Did you have to?”

  “Your grandfather is not the forgiving kind, I’m afraid. Now rest. He waits for you.”

  “And Mama?”

  The three men exchanged glances. The captain gently took Alana’s hands.

  “I’m afraid your mother…passed away.”

  Alana Loeb had not cried in years. But now a lone tear rolled down her cheek. One of the gunmen patted her on the knee. The leader rapped on the window behind him with his ring finger and the Humvee started to move. His hand dropped to his lap and Alana’s gaze drifted to the ring. In its large oval center is a cross with two horizontal bars…the Cross of the Lorraine.

  ***

  After her rescue, Alana was happy to be home. But things were different. It was more than the loss of her mother. Her presence was a suppurating wound in the community. She was coddled by her grandfather and other relatives, but they – and their retainers – watched her closely, lest she resort to “evil ways.” No longer the innocent child, she found herself scrutinizing every word, every gesture for a hidden meaning. She suspected that the boys who came calling knew everything, and wanted it all. Her grandfather treated all of them with barely concealed hostility.

  It didn’t matter to Alana; mere boys no longer interested her. She took up with a series of powerful men, most married. She soon became an embarrassment to her grandfather and was shipped off to a private religious school in Europe, which she hated, but where she honed her facility for languages, math and science. Eventually, she declared her independence and moved to the United States. In Miami, with its rich mix of cultures and decadent lifestyle, she thrived. She studied the law, slept with all the right men and turned her back on her family, except for her grandfather, who provided her with a liberal allowance and showered her with gifts. Her last sense of connection to her earlier life died when he did. She had no desire to run a winery or participate in any of the other family businesses, most of which had suffered from the neglect of her dispirited grandfather. His “empire” was crumbling and she knew her feckless cousins would finish the job. She sold her interests to them, as well as her beloved hacienda.

  Alana Loeb, now free of any emotional restraints, would make her way in America, where her innate intelligence, newfound sexual prowess and disdain for men almost guaranteed success.

  In both her personal and business life Alana now assumed everyone’s intentions were malignant or at best selfish. It was easy to deal with the world that way and certainly a good way to make a lot of money. If she had a soft spot it was for children, especially the youngest. But ever the realist, she knew she was just compensating for her own truncated childhood. Her relationships in the adult world were all business or sex, and often a mix of both. She enjoyed relationships with many men, some just to further her career, and some more casual. She was not against having fun. But as pleasant and charming as some of her lovers were she never considered that they might love or value her. She understood that their primary instinct was to bed her first and get to know her later. She often gladly allowed the first, never the second.

  So it was with Victor Ballantrae. Some of what Alana told Scarne about her recruitment by Victor was true. He had indeed been impressed by her skills and did want her to set up a legal department. But he wanted to fuck her first. He made that quite clear early in the negotiations about her compensation. His approach was so direct and vulgar she told him bluntly he was risking a lawsuit. Never missing a beat, he said he’d make her rich. At the time he had her pinned on the couch in his office. It was after hours; they were alone.

  She thought about crippling him. Vera Pappas had taught her a few tricks. ("Remember, precious, it is you who will be using them. Make sure they always treat you well. And, if they don’t….”)

  Alana knew she could leave any man – even one as powerful as Victor Ballantrae – writhing in pain. Briefly, she contemplated using the notorious “nut knot” on him. But she had done her homework. Ballantrae was the kind of man who could make her rich. So, Victor was pleasantly surprised when Alana’s resistance lessened and sh
e became an enthusiastic participant to an activity that moments earlier had bordered on rape (not that he had anything against rape). More than enthusiastic. After they finished, a dazed and sated Ballantrae wondered if he had been raped. It was the most incredible carnal experience of his life. And Alana Loeb became his highest paid employee. He never knew how close he had come to being made a eunuch.

  As their physical relationship progressed, Alana and Victor realized how much alike they were, and developed a real affection for each other, albeit one always tempered by self-interest. Victor amused her. He had told her about his background. She smiled at his braggadocio, but approved. To her mind, no family worth its salt lacked ancestors who ended up on the gallows. She suspected that in Victor’s case the law missed a few.

  And for all his faults, Victor was a real man, in and out of bed. For his part, Victor was astounded to realize that Alana ruined other women for him. Previously he had devoured them like burritos. After Alana, he still tried, but was invariably disappointed. She was the best sex partner he’d ever had; there wasn’t a second place. She was a different woman in bed every time, a trait that never failed to amaze him. As for the other women in his life; Alana tolerated them, unless she had occasion to meet them. Then it wasn’t pretty.

  Victor was at one point so taken with Alana that he even broached – in the broadest possible terms and with the caution of a minnow approaching a bass – the possibility of marriage. He might as well have asked her to pass the ketchup. He never brought it up again.

  Their partnership, such as it was, had proven incredibly lucrative. Alana Loeb had brought structure and order to the Ballantrae organization, solved the legal and other problems (often with Garza and Keitel’s help) caused by Victor’s recklessness and penchant for larceny, and managed the flow of political contributions and bribes. With her financial acumen and common sense, she also vetted Ballantrae’s endless stream of new schemes.

  And occasionally came up with one of her own.

  CHAPTER 34 – THE MAN IN COACH

  Scarne was contemplating his nakedness (and was mildly relieved to see that his sexual organs were intact) when Alana padded into the room carrying a tray, on which sat glasses of orange juice, mugs of coffee, pastries and silver bowls with cream and sugar.

  “Just leftovers,” she said. “I’ll make us a proper breakfast later.” Placing the tray on the table nearest Scarne she looked lasciviously at his crotch. “Sit up, Jake, I don’t want you spilling hot coffee in your lap. I have plans for it.”

  He pulled up the covers and did as he was told. She sat on the bed next to him. The juice was delicious. It was Florida, after all. And the coffee was strong. She picked up a croissant and moved it toward his mouth. He took a bite then grabbed her hand. He turned it over and kissed the underside of her wrist. Then he bit the soft fleshy mound under her thumb. She cried out, pulled back her hand and handed him the rest of the pastry.

  “So, you know about the ‘Mound of Love,’” she said.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. When they were finished, she picked up the tray. On her way out the door she looked back.

  “Why don’t you start the shower? I’ll be right in. We can wash each other. Then we can make love all morning. I owe you a bite.”

  ***

  Her lovemaking skills were remarkable. Scarne knew that she was a woman of the world, and he had long ceased to be surprised by feminine passion. But Alana took pleasure-taking to a new level. And pleasure-giving, for she was unquestionable generous. She usually allowed him to be dominant – and often near her climax put up a show of joyous resistance – until they were both spent. Then she often took over, first gently, then more urgently as her needs were reawakened. She was multi-orgasmic and very vocal. Afterwards, in post-coital languor, her soothing voice and feathery touches enveloped them in a cocoon of contentment.

  Alana never fully let her guard down in these quiet moments, but she alluded to an earlier, tougher life. When he pressed her about her upbringing, she simply said, “My childhood was cut short, Jake, so there is nothing to tell.” She clutched him tightly, as if his presence could erase horrible memories.

  When he walked into the bathroom, he caught her reflection when he opened the medicine cabinet mirror. She was lying on her side in a Naked Maja pose staring after him. Her eyes said everything. But by the time he got back to the bed, she had recovered. She pulled her legs up to her chin and smiled mischievously at him.

  “Looking for Viagra, Jake?”

  “I’m thinking more in terms of CPR.”

  But he jumped her and they fell back laughing, and were soon asleep. It was late afternoon when he awoke, again alone. He threw on his pants and walked to the top of the stairs leading down to the pool area. She was sitting at a table, talking on a phone. The crime scene tape was gone and workers were cleaning the area. She waved him down. She was dressed in a shorts and a T-shirt and looked freshly scrubbed. The workers kept glancing at her. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent.

  “Yes, I understand. I’ll be along as soon as I can. It would be easier if I had one of the jets, but I’ll make do. I’ll see you there. No, I don’t think there will be any problem leaving. If there is, I’ll call you. Yes. Yes. Fine. Goodbye.”

  She hung up and looked at him.

  “I have to go to Antigua.” She took his hand and smiled. ““Darling, come with me. We can stay at the nicest place. I’ll only be working a few hours. You know how it is in the islands. Nobody puts in a full day. Oh, please!”

  The transformation from efficient businesswoman to sultry lover and temptress was unsettling, but also irresistible.

  “Alana, I’m working. Things have happened. The police may want to talk to us.”

  “By staying with me, you will be working, no? We’re not suspects in what happened to Tony.” She put her hand to his face. “Please. I need you now.”

  Scarne weighed his options. He convinced himself that sticking close to Alana was the right move. But he also knew that he just wanted to be with her.

  “I’ll have to go back to my place and get some things.”

  “Thank you, darling! All the corporate jets are in use, so we’ll have to fly commercial. I’ll have the office make arrangements for the noon flight.”

  Scarne told her he’d be back in an hour to pick her up.

  ***

  Once back at La Gorce, he packed and called Evelyn.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Day or two, tops.”

  “I don’t like it, Jake.”

  “What don’t you like?”

  “First the fellow at the church, now the murder at the pool. Don’t you think this is all just a little bit strange?”

  Scarne had almost forgotten the incident at St. Christopher’s. Something began to coalesce in his thoughts.

  “Oh, by the way, Sheldon Shields stopped by. What a nice man.”

  Scarne lost the thought.

  “What did he want?”

  “Just said he was in the neighborhood and wanted to drop off a package. Said it was a gift. It’s in on your desk. Would you like me to open it?”

  “No, I’m in a hurry. I’ll do it when I get back. Right now I want you to take something down.”

  Scarne spent the next 10 minutes dictating an abbreviated version of what he had learned up to that point about Josh’s death and the Ballantrae organization. Evelyn made no comment until he finished, and then simply said, “Jellyfish, Jake?”

  “Yes, I know. It all sounds so bizarre. But something is not right. I no longer think Sheldon Shields is wasting his money.”

  “Have you told him any of this?”

  “God, no. I haven’t come across anything that even remotely looks like a clue. I don’t know what, if anything, all this has to do with Josh Shields. I’m just going to keep pulling the string to see what’s on the other end.”

  “Be careful it’s not a noose.”

  “You might w
ant to let Dudley take a gander at your notes. Just in case.”

  ***

  Alana and Scarne were booked to fly American Airlines first-class to Antigua, through San Juan. The traffic was heavy and neither of them spotted the two cars that followed them to the airport. One, a maroon Cadillac, stopped a few lengths behind their cab when it pulled up to the departure building at Miami International. The man in the passenger seat got out with a small carry-on bag and followed the couple into the terminal. He was only steps behind them in line when they picked up their tickets. He spent a lot of time looking at Alana, but neither noticed him. It was to be expected that men stared at her. A moment later he booked the same flight.

  The three occupants in the second tailing car had concentrated on the cab carrying Scarne and Alana; they didn’t notice the Cadillac. One of them, dressed in a dark blue suit, as were the others, also followed Scarne and Alana at a distance to the counter. Once the line dissipated, he showed his credentials and jotted down the information he needed. When he got back to the car, his companions were also flashing wallets to airport security cops who wanted them to move the car. He climbed into the front seat and pulled out a cell phone to call New York as the car pulled away.

  The flight to Antigua took just under six hours. Alana and Scarne, exhausted by their lovemaking, and sedated by food and wine, slept most of the way.

  The man following them had a seat far back in coach. He didn’t sleep. He was thinking. Unarmed, and with no connections in Antigua, he would have to improvise. He assumed he could get his weapon of choice from a street urchin or someone hanging around the docks. For now, he felt naked without it. Escape from the island might be a problem. But given the well-known incompetence of Caribbean cops, he thought he had a fighting chance. Those idiots in Aruba still hadn’t found out who killed that American girl. That was a shame. From all accounts, she was apparently a nice kid.

  He then thought of his own loss and his face hardened.