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Castle In The Sand [76-80]
Copyright 1996 by D. J. Pedersen
By: "thaumaturge" (Deana Johns) <Deana.Johns@softcom.net>
(M/f, ff, MF)

All rights reserved. Limited permission to post is granted providing
this header remains intact. May not be posted to any pay sites. May be
offered as part of a collection, also provided this header remains
intact. Permission to archive is also granted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 76

Catarina lay snuggled to John's side. Sheila was cooking breakfast in
the small kitchen. Catarina marveled at her powers of recovery. After
she launched herself at John the night before, he had carried her in
his arms into the bedroom. They had both made the most tender, sweet
love she had ever known with her. She did not understand, but she knew
she could trust these people. They were *not* like Sergei had told her
they were. They were the sweetest, kindest people on earth.

If she had to die for her actions, she would go knowing that she had
finally experienced true, honest love. The way it should be.... for
everybody; Self-less, deep and abiding. She lay in John's arms waiting
for word of her and her sister's fate. It came in the form of a beeping
from his laptop.

John stirred, feeling Catarina snuggled to him. He lifted his head to
gaze into her pensive eyes. He kissed her on the cheek and sat up,
reaching for his laptop. Sheila came in and handed each of them a cup
of coffee, stooping to kiss each of them good morning.

"Breakfast is ready when you are," she said. She slipped out and
retrieved her own cup and returned and slid onto the bed. Setting her
coffee down on the headboard shelf, she leaned against it and pulled
Catarina to her. She snuggled to her side while John read the reply. He
read for quite some time. Catarina growing more pensive by the moment.

"Well, don't keep the poor girl in suspense," Sheila chided. John
looked up.

"Oh, sorry. You are to make connection with your contact. Tell them
that we have asked you to travel with us. Tell them that you are going
to do so because you were not able to obtain the information as yet,
but you are confident that you will. Ask him to meet you in Salt Lake
City in a week. That you intend to have the information by then and
that you would like Sergei to meet you at the Mormon Temple with your
sister.

"For your cooperation, you will be given immunity from prosecution.
Both you and your sister will be given political asylum and protection.
Your sister -and you, if you desire it- will be given counseling to
help her deal with your ordeal. The government would very much like
your assistance in putting Sergei into one of our prisons," John
summarized. Catarina had begun to weep with joy.

"Of course. I will gladly cooperate fully. I would do anything to see
that asshole put away," she said, tears running down her cheeks.

"Unfortunately, our prisons are probably more humane, but not all that
humane. I could almost guarantee that he would become somebody's love
toy. Probably for a bunch of weight lifters with self applied tattoos,"
John chuckled.

"That would give me a great deal of satisfaction... but mainly I just
want my sister safe and away from him," she said, wiping at her tears.
Sheila had her own leakage problem.

"You are a great man, John Stevens. You are kind and generous and I
love you very much. May I show a portion of my gratitude to you by
making love to you?" Catarina asked.

"No, not as thanks... but if you would like to make love with us as an
equal, of your own free choice, then I would be delighted," John said.

"You know, they have a great deal of respect for the *Cowboy*, but I
think even so they have greatly underestimated you," Catarina said.

"Cowboy?" John asked.

"That is what they call you. Your code name. Sergei told me of an
episode where you outgunned a man. You shot his barn or something," she
replied. John busted out laughing. So did Sheila.

"Cowboy... I can live with that," he chuckled. "What time do you need
to make your contact?" he asked.

"No set time. I was to try to make contact by three this afternoon,"
she said, catching the jovial mood.

"Three huh? I think we can have you talking again by then," John said,
moving to her. She moved into his arms and her lips met his hungrily.
Sheila moved up behind her, caressing her body. She was *barely*
talking when she made her phone call. Her contact wasn't at all happy
that she didn't have the film yet. He agreed that she should travel
with them. She passed her message about her sister. Her contact said he
would relay the message. For her to call back the next day between noon
and three for the reply to her demands. While she was out making her
call, Sheila turned to John.

"Are you going to ask her, or should I?" she asked. He grinned at her.

"Hold off for a bit. I want to get this thing with her sister cleaned
up first. I don't want her saying yes because she feels indebted to
us," he said.

"All the more reason to ask her before," she said.

"No. When she's free to make her own decisions. *Really free*. Then we
can ask her together. Okay?" he said.

"Okay. But I want you to know that I'm fully addicted already," she
said.

"Ditto, babe. Now about that bet..." he said.

"You cheated.... " Sheila said, sinking to her knees, grinning. They
solved the problem of Catarina's vehicle by dropping it off at the next
car rental. She would rent another one in Salt Lake City. They
transferred the luggage from the car. To deal with the bags containing
the bugs, John simply stowed them into the compact car towed behind.
They drove down through Montana, crossing into Wyoming. Driving through
Yellowstone and Grand Teton national parks. Catarina got a big kick out
of the bears in Yellowstone. Most of the time she traveled up front
with them. Sometimes her and Sheila would slip back into the bedroom
for an hour or so. Once, John had Sheila spell him off at the wheel
while he slipped back for an extended session. She would only do it on
an easy driving section. She'd never driven anything that big before.

Each night they all made love and then snuggled together blissfully
happy as they caressed each other to sleep. Catarina made a German
style breakfast for them one morning. With sliced tomatoes, cheeses and
cold cuts to go with the eggs and potato pancakes. In Jackson Hole John
purchased an out of state fishing license. Not far away he parked the
motor home and made his way along a small stream with his fly casting
gear. Working his way along the river, pretending he knew what he was
doing. He wasn't a very proficient fly fisherman, but he looked forward
to becoming one. He seemed to yank the fly away from the fish the
moment it went to take it. He worked his way along the stream.
Encountering another fisherman. He stopped and chatted with him. The
fisherman showing him his catch for the day.

"Nice mustache. I'll bet the triplets would like it," John chuckled.

"It comes off, what happened to yours?" Howdy asked.

"It came off. Part of a draw bet. It'll grow back soon," John said,
absently feeling his lip.

"Well -*as usual*- you stirred up a *whole* bunch of shit. We've been
dying to get our hands on this Nickolov fellow for years now. He's one
cagey mother and one bad son of a bitch," Howdy told him, dropping his
fly in the perfect spot. A moment later a trout rolled up and he
snagged him in the lip.

"How the hell do you do that?" John asked, as Howdy reeled him in.

"Practice. Every summer for at least two weeks since I was a kid. My
therapy from work," he said, landing the fish. He removed the hook and
let the fish go.

"Catch and release?" John asked.

"Not always. But I'm near my limit and he wasn't very big," Howdy said.
He cleaned his fly and treated it with a light fly oil. Then fluffed it
and went back to his casting.

"How come you never took this Sergei asshole out before?" John asked,
trying to duplicate Howdy's actions.

"Never had more than a general description of him before. That's one
reason why we want to jump at this chance," Howdy said.

"Nail him cold with the goods, huh?" John asked, managing a decent cast
but again removing the fly an instant before the fish came up.

"Don't be in such a dag blamed hurry. You just lost a nice one," Howdy
chuckled, "Yeah, we nail him good. Don't even have to go into a hostile
environment for him."

"You've never been to Temple Square then," John chuckled.

Howdy grinned, "Yes I have. My ex-wife was a Mormon.... About that;
we'll take him as he leaves. But once he's inside, and Catarina
identifies him and makes the pass, then we've got him."

"You promise that her and her sister's safety comes first?" John asked.

"Of course. But I won't lie to you and tell you there is no risk.
Sergei is a slippery little fucker. He's in the position he's in for a
reason. But that's why we take him as he goes to leave. He has to pass
through the security gates. Gives us a chance to separate him from
Bianca," Howdy said.

"So you expect him to double cross Catarina too," John said. Howdy
glanced at him.

"Of course. *I'm* in the position I am in, for a reason too.
Underestimating my opponents isn't one of them. Assets like Catarina
are too valuable to them to let slip away, just because they do as they
are supposed to," Howdy said.

"Well, that makes me feel better. Got something for me?" John asked.

"On the second bend up. Behind the logical rock to sit and rest on.
Take care," Howdy said.

"You said a whole bunch of shit. What's the other part?" John asked.
Howdy frowned a bit.

"Nothing much, just the GAO, the Attorney General's office, the IRS and
both houses of Congress crawling up our ass with a microscope.
Undoubtedly the end of the project. Perhaps the end of this President's
career. Certainly the end of mine. You see, this whole thing is black
budgeted. Even my position. It will have been well worth it. We did
serious damage to the espionage aimed at this country. God, if you only
knew how many people are watching you folks now. You've got agents from
Uganda watching you, for Christ's sake.

"But when we pop old Sergei, all that's going to blow up in our faces.
It's going to swing all those eyes in our direction, as well as the
national and international press. One very big shit-load of people are
going to start asking questions. Questions we can't answer to their
legal expectations," Howdy said.

"So why not treat it as a simple sting? Why involve the silo at all?
You've said yourself that the government has wanted Sergei for some
time. Why not nail him on some other charge?" John asked.

"We don't have anything else anywhere near this on him. He's
undoubtedly not usually sloppy enough to take personal possession of
stolen secrets," Bill responded.

"So what's to tie him in with the silo, or you? Other than you being
connected with his arrest?" John asked.

"The actual files that are being passed, for one. Sergei himself when
he starts talking to save his ass for another," Howdy said.

"I don't understand. The contents of the files? You know we aren't
actually a weapons lab. Why would they be connected with us?" John
asked.

"So where did he get the files? How was it, that you ended up carrying
Top Secret files around in your motor home for him to steal or take
possession of?" Bill asked.

"I've been doing research for the government. On acoustic signature
recognition. I've been using the motor home as a roving lab, taking
acoustic samples all over the country. Including at several military
installations," John suggested.

"That's good. But what about the actual files? They have to be produced
for evidence. They have nothing to do with that line of investigation.
They relate to dead end research in binary nerve agents... which will
open a whole new can of worms," Bill said.

"So change the files. Sergei doesn't have any idea what's on that film.
As long as it's incriminating enough, it's still espionage," John said,
simply. Howdy glanced at John, grinning.

"I'm *very* glad you're on *our* side. That might work. We'll have to
arrange a swap. Which is dangerous enough by itself. We've got two
agents watching us now. So we'd better cut this short," Bill said.

"Just one more question; Suppose it still gets connected with the silo?
Other than losing the ruse, what would it matter? We all go back to
semi-normal lives. As you said, it was all well worth it. So what's the
big deal?" John asked.

"Because we lose our budget. Our construction budget. I want to see
that community up and built. I want to see those homeless people get a
future. With winter approaching, we can't get it done this year. As
soon as this thing hits, the funds evaporate. Hopefully without a trace
that they ever existed," Bill said.

"Money's not a problem. While I've been out on my little drive, my
royalties have exceeded what my original lottery winnings were. All of
them, which it would have taken me years to collect. That's just the
beginning. The girls are just getting started. That community's going
to get built, I guarantee that," John said.

"I'm glad to hear that. But I want to get as much as possible funneled
into the project before it all vaporizes. That sewage treatment and
recycle plant is going to cost a good twenty million by itself. If I
could get that covered, then you could probably handle the rest...
You'd better go now. Take care," Howdy concluded.

"Thanks, you too. Good fishing to you," John said.

"To you too. Slow up your cast. Let the fly sit till you see the fish
rise. It takes time for them to spit it back out when they realize it
isn't a real bug. By that time you've got them," Howdy said, working
away.

"Thanks," John said, moving on. On the next small rapid he followed
Howdy's suggestion and hooked into a beauty. Landing it successfully.
He let out a whoop of delight. Holding it up for Howdy to see. He
tipped his hat to him and moved on. At the proper bend, John sat down
on the rock and cleaned his fish. Tossing the guts and rinsing it in
the stream. He placed it in his creel and washed his hands in the
stream. Moving back to the rock, he sat down and poured himself a cup
of coffee from his day pack. He pulled out a half a sandwich and
munched on it. His hands still smelled like fish. He didn't mind a bit.
When he packed up, a small package went into his day pack with the rest
of his lunch wrappers. He fished along for a while further before
starting back. He caught three more. Keeping and cleaning two good
sized ones to go with the other. Finally he headed back to the motor
home.

"These Americans, with their penchant for fishing stories," one agent
said, setting down his binoculars.

"The other one must have given him good advice. You saw those three he
kept. Good eating sized, they were. Trout is delicious," said the
second.

"Maybe. I just think this is all a waste of time, watching a man
fishing," said the first.

"Maybe. But Sergei said it was important to watch his every move. What
Sergei wants, Sergei gets," said the second.

"Like that cute little trollop he's been traveling with, that he keeps
so doped up on drugs she doesn't notice when he rapes her," the first
said.

"Not our business. Come on, Cowboy's almost back," said the second.
John broke down his fly rod and took off his boots before entering the
motor home.

"The mighty fisherman returns. Empty handed again?" Sheila teased,
moving to kiss him. John handed over his fishing creel, grinning.
Sheila looked in it and exclaimed, "Dinner! Nice ones too. I figure
they cost you about twenty bucks apiece with the cost of that license."
John chuckled.

"Probably. But time spent fishing cannot be deducted from a man's life.
Did you ladies have a nice *chat* while I was gone?" John asked,
collecting a kiss from Catarina.

"Mmm... quite nice," she said, attempting to continue the encounter.
"Let me wash these hands with some soap. I smell like trout," John
said.

"A good idea, as lunch is almost ready. What's our next stop?" Sheila
called after him.

"I thought that we would hold over in Evanston for a night or two.
Maybe go out to a horse racing track they have there," John answered as
he ducked into the bathroom. Over lunch he continued, "After Evanston,
I'd like to do some more fishing. I know of some beautiful country in
the Uinta mountains of Northern Utah."

"More fishing? Do you play cards, Catarina?" Sheila chuckled.

"Some.. I would gladly live like this the rest of my life. Traveling
this lovely country with you two. Happily waiting for our man to
return... I am sorry. I did not mean to imply... ownership. It is just
that these few days have been the most wonderful of my life," she said,
dropping her eyes. Sheila shot daggers at John with her eyes.

"Catarina... When this is all settled... Well, I don't want you to feel
any kind of pressure about this. But when you are free to decide things
for yourself... well, I would not be opposed to talking about
continuing this relationship. I haven't said so before, because I know
you have enough things on your mind. I didn't want you to feel....
pressured into a relationship out of gratitude. What we are doing, we
honestly wish to do. That includes *both* helping you get your sister's
release, and when we make love with you. We would gladly do either,
with no connection to the other.

"I know that you have the problem of how to deal with your sister's
recovery too. That may take quite some time. And either or both of you
may not wish to have anything around to remind you of this whole
incident. I would certainly understand that. But I want you to know,
that you will *always* be welcome in our hearts and our lives should
you wish to be," John said. A tear rolled down Catarina's cheek. Sheila
caught it with her finger and moved it to her lips.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me. More than you could ever know.....
I do not know how my sister will be.... I fear that she will face drug
addiction as well, as Sergei keeps her drugged all the time so she will
not try to escape... or resist his ..... Anyway, I would be very
honored to be able to share any portion of my life with you two. But I
would not want to become a point of jealousy between you two. I love
you both too dearly to allow that to happen," Catarina said.

Sheila could not help herself as she busted out laughing. Catarina
looked like she'd been shot through the heart. Sheila caught this and
suddenly cut off her laugh, quickly explaining.

"My dear, sweet, darling woman. John *currently* has intimate ongoing
relationships with at least nine different women. I personally like
that fact... as I share them as well. Another woman, or two, especially
a woman as alluring and lovely as you... is the least of my worries...
in fact, I am quite certain it would contribute greatly to my already
abundant happiness. It has been my great pleasure indeed, to spend
every moment with you that I have. I know John feels exactly the same
way," she concluded.

"Nine?" John asked. Sheila looked at him and nodded.

Seeing he was dubious, she listed them, "Theresa, Cindy, Sally, myself,
Candice, the triplets and Jean, in order of arrival or initiation.
Besides us, Mae would jump in a heartbeat and Judy's warming rapidly.
Not counting the string of broken hearts you left on your little
journey," she giggled.

"Catarina's the only one of them I would wish to become involved with,"
John said in his defense.

"Oh, I don't know. That first bi-pair they threw at you seemed
interesting. And I know you were more than a little tempted by that
young one," Sheila chuckled.

"You are *actually* involved, *romantically*, with *all* those women?"
Catarina asked.

"You saw the tapes. What did you think? Was he faking it?" Sheila
asked. Catarina looked at him a moment, considering what she had seen
in context with what she had experienced.

"No... I had thought so. I thought him a great womanizer. But knowing
what I do now, I do not believe that," she said, solemnly.

"All the more reason why you might not wish to become involved with
me," John said.

"No, all the more reason why I *would*. Nine women can not *all* be
wrong," she said.

"I will never in my life understand women," John said.

"An *ironic* statement, coming from the man who understands them better
than any other I ever met," Sheila giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

"And you would actually let me -and possibly my sister- into this
loving environment?" Catarina asked.

"Dear heart. I think the road between here and Evanston is pretty good.
Once we get out onto the highway. Why don't I take the wheel and you
can show this adorable creature just how welcome she would be," Sheila
offered.

"An outstanding idea, woman of mine," John said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 77

Sheila drove down the highway, grinning to herself. Catarina had the
endearing trait of moaning and crying out in French. Sheila's French
was a little rusty, but from the best she could translate them, the
woman's statements were extremely intimate and erotic. Catarina
literally purred to herself in contentment as she lay snuggled to a
napping John. Thinking him the most outstandingly wonderful man she had
ever met.

He seemed to read her every whim. Being soft and sensual one moment,
and instantly shifting to rough and frantic the next in response to her
own mood shift. She kissed him softly on the cheek and softly slipped
out of the bed. She donned a robe and pulled on some bikini panties.
She made her way up front. Sheila concentrating upon her driving,
looking tired. Catarina poured two mugs of coffee and carried them with
her. Sliding into the other plush Captain's seat up front. Sheila
glanced at her as she took the coffee mug.

"Thanks. That outfit should give the truckers a thrill. But don't
change. It will help me stay alert better than this coffee," she
chuckled, sneaking a second peek.

"You are quite welcome to observe me dressed -or undressed- any way you
wish me to be. Lord knows I have examined your stunning body quite
closely. Much to my great pleasure," Catarina said. They rode along the
sweeping landscape, sipping their coffee and occasionally glancing at
each other. "Explain some things to me," Catarina said.

"Sure, anything I can," Sheila replied.

"The triplets... John did not steal them from their parents and seduce
them for his own pleasure?" she asked. Sheila glanced at her.

"Is that what they told you?"

"Yes," Catarina nodded.

"No. He saved their lives. Literally. Candice's too. He braved a
roaring blizzard, risking his own life. They were running from the man
John had the altercation with that got him the name Cowboy. That was
the second time he risked his life for them. He was negotiating their
freedom. The man had traded a tractor for them when they were just
twelve. Then he raped them repeatedly from the time they had barely
reached puberty. Candice was married to the man too. He abused them all
physically and sexually. Their lives were bad enough that escaping into
a blizzard seemed like a better idea than staying. John took them in
and nursed them back to health. Then he gave them a future worth
looking forward to. As to seducing them, he fought it tooth and nail.
The rest of us had to work real hard to convince him that the girls
should understand that all men weren't like the asshole they had
escaped from," Sheila said.

Catarina nodded, "And Theresa and Cindy? Not held prisoner at the silo,
as his love and work slaves?" Sheila chuckled.

"No, both runaways from abusive parents. Again -or rather first- John
took them in and gave them a loving environment and a future. He met
Theresa first, she literally jumped in front of his car one night. He
actually bumped her into a ditch. He took her in and doctored her back
to health. He hired her as his cook. When he refused her advances
because of her age, she mounted him in his sleep. I'm not sorry a bit
that she did, as that started all this. She talked John into letting
Cindy come live with them. Theresa had a relationship with her back
home.... John was understanding enough to recognize their need for each
other's love as well as his."

"And Sally? He did not put her on the streets of New York to work for
him?" Catarina chuckled. Sheila laughed.

"No, he took her *off* the streets. She was homeless when he met her.
He fed her, clothed and housed her, and found her a great job. I don't
think he meant to be attracted to her at all. He only meant to help
her. She asked to make love with him. He did so only after he obtained
permission from Theresa and Cindy. She did not tell him that she was a
virgin. Once he found out, he did his very best to make it the most
memorable experience of her life. He almost crippled himself doing so.
He looked like a zombie for days afterwards," Sheila giggled.

"And your story?" Catarina asked, nodding.

"What did they tell you?" Sheila asked.

"That he was blackmailing you. That he held evidence of your
bisexuality over your head to extort your work and sexual favors,"
Catarina chuckled. Sheila laughed like fine crystal ringing. Catarina
smiled.

"No. John gave me the opportunity of a lifetime. He needed a business
manager to run Second Skin, which he set up to insure Theresa's and
Cindy's future. He gave me the job of CEO, a position which is seldom
held by a woman. He didn't care that I was a woman, only that I was the
best person for the job. As to my bisexuality. John is the one and only
man who ever really tried to understand it. I treasure that
understanding more than anything else on earth. When I became involved
with John and the girls, it was like coming home to the life I had
always searched for but never found," Sheila said, her eyes misting.

"Yes, that sounds much more consistent with the man I have come to know
and love these past few days," Catarina mused.

"He really is a stellar human being; A genuine *good guy*, like you
used to see in the movies. A renaissance man... perhaps one of the last
or *the* last. He's kind, generous, compassionate, ethical, humorous
and understanding. And he's a gentle and attentive lover. I would
gladly give everything I own just to share a single day with him,
divided between the other women who love him as I do, let alone the
rest of my life," Sheila said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I would too," Catarina said, her own eyes misting.

"And the silo? The Files I copied?" she asked.

"That part I can't tell you about, as I've sworn an oath not to. But I
can tell you it's not whatever they told you it was. John's ethics
would preclude him being involved in anything like that," Sheila said.
Catarina nodded.

"What's this woman been telling you? I deny the whole thing. Don't
believe a word of it," John said, wrapping a robe around himself and
pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I think, that I believe every single word of it. I am most certain
that it is true," Catarina said, admiration glowing in her eyes.

"Vicious rumors, every one of them. I only raped three camels and the
Pirates let me go because my feet stank," he said, stooping to kiss
Sheila on the cheek and collect a kiss from Catarina. "'Bout ready for
a break, dear heart?" he asked Sheila. She nodded and signaled into a
rest stop that happened to be coming up.

"Yes, I'll make you some lunch, too," she said.

"Oh, please, let me," Catarina offered.

"Nope. I'm cooking. You, dear heart, will relax and unwind from your
*high speed wobbles*. You, Catarina, may sit and look as alluring as
you do, to give me inspiration while you admiringly observe a master
chef in the act of creation," John said.

"I'll take you up on that. Actually, I know what will best help me to
unwind... I've been observing it for the past hundred and fifty miles,"
Sheila said, pulling into an RV parking slot and shutting down the
motor home. She turned to Catarina and offered her hand. Catarina
smiled radiantly and nodded, taking it.

"Call us when lunch is ready... but take your time," Sheila said,
leading the lovely woman into the back. John found French moans all the
inspiration he needed to fuel his creativity. He had the table set and
a bountiful feast laid out when a much more relaxed Sheila and Catarina
came forward, fastening their robes.

"Fresh tossed salad with *French* dressing, *French* fried onions and
potatoes and roast beef sandwiches with *Au Ju* sauce," John said, "Oh
and your choice of *Perrier* or *French* roasted coffee."

"What was your inspiration?" Sheila giggled, looking at Catarina.
Catarina blushed crimson.

"Don't know, it just struck me out of the blue," John chuckled.

"Well darling, could I have a *French* kiss for both appetizer and
desert? That would make it perfect," Sheila chuckled.

"That you may. You both may in fact... *Mais oui*," John said, moving
to comply.

"I am sorry. I just can not help myself," Catarina stammered, once John
turned her loose.

"Don't you dare try! You have no idea how incredibly sexy and sensual
it is," Sheila said.

"*Mais oui*!" John concurred.

"And that endearing quality you have of never using conjunctions in
your speech. We get so used to them that it's... *it is* quite
refreshing to hear the language used properly," Sheila said.

"Thank you. I just *don't* know it well enough to use them," Catarina
said, sitting down at the table.

"Oh god, we've corrupted her," John moaned.

"No, the French have a philosophy about introducing a single flaw into
a work of perfection. That one word can be hers," Sheila said.

"Please... I wish you both to know that I love you very much. You do
not need to flatter me," Catarina said.

"My dear Catarina; I do not use empty flattery, neither does Sheila. If
we say something to you, it is because we really mean it. So get used
to it. Now dry your tears and eat your lunch. Or I will be forced to
take you back to the bedroom and torture you with more sex until you
develop a proper appetite," John said.

"I love you, John Stevens. And you, Sheila Jacobs. You are both quite
welcome to my body any time you desire it," Catarina said, solemnly.

"Cool, now eat," John said. Catarina slipped off and made her phone
call to her contact before they left the rest stop. John and Sheila
knew what she was doing, but she was just keeping in character.

"I have the film. Will Sergei meet me as I asked?" she asked.

"He wasn't happy about it. But he will meet with you. You'd better have
the information. For your own good."

"I got it last night after they were both asleep. I almost got caught.
I had to duck into the bathroom on the way back into the bedroom," she
said.

"Just so long as you deliver. I have a personal interest in this. *I*
won't like it if you don't deliver."

"Your personal interests do not interest me. My sister does," she said,
breaking the connection.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 78

John pulled into Evanston and found an RV park. He checked in and made
hookup. Then he reveled in a long hot shower before dressing for
dinner. He had been through Evanston many times before. He knew where
to obtain the best meal in town. Sheila wondered when he pulled on his
Jeans.

He transferred Catarina's bags inside and unhitched the compact car.
They drove to a unique outdoor restaurant. They had their choice of
eating inside large teepee's, or sitting at picnic tables in the open.
They chose the teepee. The food was fabulous. Fresh baked Dutch oven
cooking prepared over a large fire pit. They had fresh biscuits and
corn bread with their meal and rich sheep herder coffee from a large
enameled pot. John chose the pot roast. The girls each trying a
different stew.

Afterwards they went out to a local bar and listened to some live
music. The women turned down multiple invitations to dance, but each
accepted one from John. John was just returning to the table from his
dance with Sheila when he found a cowboy sitting in his chair. Catarina
was steadfastly refusing his invitation to dance.

"Excuse me. But I was sitting here," John said.

"Yeah, well now I am. Looks like you could use a little help anyway.
Having two lovely ladies all by yourself," the cowboy said.

"That would be their choice to make, not yours. And the lady has
refused your invitation," John said.

"There's another one here," the cowboy said.

"I also refuse your invitation," Sheila said, coldly. The cowboy
remained seated.

"Look, we don't want any trouble. Perhaps we'll just be going," John
said. Catarina made a move to stand up and the cowboy reached out and
pushed her back into her chair. John fought to hold his temper. He
looked over at the bouncer, who was watching, but seemed amused over
the situation. John sighed. He turned to the cowboy and squared off.

"If you touch either of these women again, then I can guarantee that it
will not be the pleasant experience you have in mind. Now we are just
going to leave, you'd be well advised not to interfere," he said,
sincerely.

"Uppity rich fucks, think you're too good to drink with me. Well, I
ain't gonna take it," the cowboy said, raising up, grabbing a bottle as
he did. John anticipated his move. He side stepped and grabbed the arm
holding the bottle, using it to further propel the cowboy about four
feet into a post, which he hit face first, breaking his nose. He
screamed in pain and rage. He spun around, breaking the bottle on the
post and advanced once more on John. John waited, keeping light on his
feet. Just then the bouncer decided it was time to do his job. He
grabbed the cowboy by the collar and took the broken bottle out of his
hand.

"Okay, Ernie. You've had your fun. Now let the folks leave in peace,"
he said.

"He broke my fucking nose!" Ernie cried, trying to wiggle out of the
bouncer's grasp.

"After you tried to bust that bottle over his head. Now leave them be.
Let's go get an ice pack for you. You folks best be going," he said,
turning to John and the dumb struck women.

"All we wanted to do in the first place. I wouldn't have had to do that
if you'd been doing your job," John said.

"Yeah, yeah, get the fuck out," said the bouncer. John sighed heavily.
Sheila caught the look in his eyes. She grabbed him by the arm.

"Come on, John. No need to bust another asshole's nose. It's quite
clear why this bar has such a shortage of women." John allowed himself
to be led out by the two women. A man slipped quietly off his bar stool
and followed them out. The others in the bar went back to their
drinking, dancing and pool games.

The owner happened to be among them. The customer had been correct. The
next day the bouncer was out of a job. John drove in silence back to
the motor home. The air was thick with sexual tension. He expected
that; remembering Cindy's reaction to his confrontation with Nick. He
pulled up and parked. He was about to transfer the luggage back to the
car when a thought occurred to him. The girls were giggling and talking
about John's prowess.

He put his finger to his lips and they fell silent. He took out his lap
top and called up a program, entering his code to gain access. He'd
called up the same program before they left. The women stood by looking
pensive as he looked at the information displayed and then called in a
word processor. He typed up a few lines and turned the display towards
them.

"We've had company. It is no longer safe to talk freely. Act natural.
Talk about the fight and the dinner. Say nothing about the silo and
especially not about Sergei or Catarina's sister," they read. They each
nodded and John wiped the screen.

"Why'd you stop me? I could have taken that asshole," John said to
Sheila.

"I know you could have. But what would have been the point? He still
would have been an asshole," she replied, admiration in her eyes.

"I never saw anything like it. When that man turned with the broken
bottle, I was so scared I could have wet my pants," Catarina said.

"That part was easy enough to deal with. He didn't have a clue how to
fight. I was sorry I had to hurt him. It was that bouncer asshole that
pissed me off the most, by letting it get to the point where I had to
hurt the other guy. And the point Sheila, would have been that I would
have *enjoyed it*...... So it's probably a good thing you stopped me,"
he said. She grinned at him.

"So, coffee... or straight to bed?" she asked.

"Straight to bed," he grinned, "You two are fairly dripping with sexual
energy from that little altercation. I'm not silly enough to waste it."

"I must say this has been an entertaining trip. Dinner tonight was
quite unique. And I got to see a real western bar room fight," Catarina
said.

"No, that was nothing. I've been in a place where one of *those*
erupted. I grab my drink and head for the nearest safe corner," John
mused.

"Why there? You don't join in the fun?" Catarina asked.

"The corner, because it is the best defensible position. You get to see
anything coming at you. The drink, because it is a weapon. And you
might need the anesthesia. There's nothing fun about watching thirty
grown men acting like idiots. Putting each other into the hospital over
some minor offense that most aren't even aware of," John said, reaching
to pull Catarina to him.

"You are quite an enigma, John Stevens," she said as he descended to
kiss her hungrily.

"That's the very same term I used when I first met him," Sheila
chuckled, pulling her own clothes off and moving to them.

"Yak, yak, yak. You talk too much sometimes, woman. All I want to hear
tonight is a little French," John said, pulling Sheila into her own
hungry kiss. He got to hear quite a bit of it in fact. Sheila even
moaned some of her own.

"Quite a philosopher, this cowboy," said one agent, mockingly.

"How so?" asked the second.

"That part about bar fights. Sounded like the words of a coward,"
mocked the first.

"You only say that because you have never witnessed a true brawl.
Sounded to me like very wise words. I will remember them. You did not
witness the fight tonight. I can guarantee you that Cowboy is no
coward. That bouncer was big. I have no doubt that John could have
easily killed either of them. Do not underestimate this man," said the
second.

"You sound like you're beginning to like him, like you admire him.."
said the first.

"No... not admiration. Respect. Like you would respect a man with a
match if you were covered with gasoline," replied the second.

"What do you think that silence was all about? When they first came
in?" asked the first, changing the subject.

"I don't know. Perhaps they were kissing. They were hanging all over
him when they left the bar," said the second.

"I wonder about this Catarina woman. She seems to be quite enjoying
herself," said the first.

"That's what it's supposed to seem like. But I don't care if she has
orgasms when he makes eye contact with her, as long as she delivers. I
think she will. Sergei has her sister," said the second.

"I wouldn't mind a little of that myself. Her sister is cute... if she
wasn't so drugged up all the time. I like them a little feisty myself,"
said the first. The second looked at him in disgust.

"Yes, I know you like them to scream when you hurt them. Myself I'm
more interested in a promise Sergei made to me about another one," he
said.

John slid quietly from between the blissfully sleeping pair of lovely
women. He stood admiring their forms for a moment before he snagged his
laptop and scrambler disk and carried it into the bathroom with him. He
turned on the shower and then typed up his message to Howdy. He set the
modem for silent connection and set it to upload his message. A message
came in at the same time and John read it, then wiped it. He replaced
the disk in the freezer and slid back into bed, noisily swishing his
ice cubes in a glass of water as he set it by the bed.

The second agent awoke the first. "Your shift," he said.

"Anything?" asked the first, sleepily.

"No, he got up and took a shower. Then took a glass of ice water back
to bed with him," replied the second. "Wake me in four hours."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 79

After breakfast the next day, they made their way to the race track.
Multiple booths sold racing news and pick sheets that the even the
sellers weren't stupid enough to play. John bought a *Racing News*
newspaper with the horses' histories in it and seemingly on whim
purchased a pick sheet from one of the vendors. He pocketed his change
along with a small cartridge of film.

John examined the program and looked up the stats on each horse. Then
he watched the horses parading through the circle. He made his picks
based mostly on the stats, but he trusted his eyes on one race and a
hunch on another. He won several bets. The women finally started
following his lead.

"Now why did we pick this one in this race? The statistics seem to
favor this other one," Catarina asked.

"Because he took a piss while he was in the ring," John said.

"And that is important?" she asked.

"Would you feel like running if you hadn't?" John chuckled.

"I'm gonna stick to the stats on this one," Sheila said, rolling her
eyes.

"Suit yourself," John said.

"I am going to bet with John," Catarina said, taking his arm. After the
race Sheila was in a black mood. Catarina went to collect both hers and
John's winnings for them.

"Someday you'll learn to trust me," John chuckled. The second agent
observed Catarina collect the bets and then caught her eye. He stood
off to the side by the stairs while she put her money away.

"Have fun last night?" he asked.

"What do you want?" she said, ignoring his question.

"Sergei said to meet him at one o-clock sharp, day after tomorrow."

"I will be there. I told you I had the film."

"You'd better be. Enjoy your girlfriend tonight. I quite enjoy French
myself." Catarina looked at him sharply.

"You risked bugging the motor home after I told you I had the film?"
she asked.

"Look away, idiot. I just wanted to be sure.. you were getting quite
cozy with those two," he said.

"It is my *job* to get cozy with them. If you screwed it up by placing
those bugs, I will see to it that Sergei knows who the *idiot* was,"
she said, looking at her purse.

"Just be there on time," he said, wandering off. On the road out of
Evanston into Utah, Catarina motioned for Sheila to drive and made a
typing motion with her fingers to John. He nodded.

"Would you relieve me, sweetheart? I feel like that race horse that
lost," he chuckled. He pulled over and Sheila slid into the driver's
seat, taking the big machine back up to speed. John snagged his lap top
and Catarina followed him into the bathroom. He actually had to relieve
himself. Catarina typed her message as he covered the noise.

"Sergei at Temple Square, one o-clock sharp, day after tomorrow," he
read. She turned on the faucet and further typed, "Don't trust
following agents. Don't trust Sergei. Think better watch self and set
up." John reached into his pocket and handed her the film container.

"In place of original. Will secure Sergei's fate," John typed. She
nodded, looking worried. John further typed, "Don't worry. Once Sergei
spotted with your sister, and canister passed. Even if he tries double
cross, DO NOT PANIC. Your sister will be cared for. Sergei will not
escape. Just be cool.... I love you. Trust me?" Her eyes got damp but
she nodded.

She typed, "Love you too!!!" He kissed her softly and then wiped the
screen, shutting off the tap.

"What say I cook us up some lunch? I don't have my Utah fishing license
yet. Hate to get nailed with those trout," John said, after they walked
forward.

"No, sit down and relax. It's my turn to cook. I happen to be quite
good with trout," Catarina said.

"You're on, but the road gets a little narrower and twisty up ahead. So
I'll take over again," he said.

"Sit down, I'm having fun. I'm beginning to like this beast," Sheila
giggled.

"Okay, just take it easy. It's not a sports car," he said.

"You can say that again," she giggled.

"There's a gas station you should come up on about twenty-seven miles
out of Evanston where we filled up. I zeroed the trip meter so it
should be pretty close to there. Pull in there so I can get a Utah
license," he said.

"Can do, sweetie. Just tie down the chickens and I'll do my best to
keep it between the lines on each side," Sheila mocked.

"Between the lines on one side would be desirable. Our side preferably.
And switch on the headlights. Makes it easier to see us on two lane
highways," he said.

"Yes dear, I was just joking," she said, switching on the headlights.
John poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to watch Catarina's
method of cooking trout. She took a quick inventory and selected the
spices she wanted. John had even stocked Saffron. She smiled in
admiration of his taste.

She made a small cachet of the leafed herbs using a coffee filter.
Adding crushed bay leaves, a pinch of sage and half teaspoon of thyme.
Next she added a pinch of tarragon and a large pinch of chili powder.
She twisted up the cachet and set it in a cup and a half of white wine.
Letting it reduce. Meanwhile she filleted the trout, lightly salting
and white peppering them. She covered them with paper towels while the
wine reduced. Then she placed the fillets in the wine to poach. Adding
a half cup of cream and a pinch of Saffron at the end. The fish was
tender and succulent. She further reduced the sauce and ladled it over
the fillets, garnishing with parsley flakes as he had no fresh parsley.
She toasted English muffin halves and added Spanish rice and baby
carrots on the side.

Sheila spotted the gas station John wanted right where he predicted it.
She pulled carefully into the lot. John purchased his one day license
at an outrageous fee. They sat down to lunch before they moved on. John
took a single taste of the trout and rolled his eyes.

"This is incredible. Hon, don't we need a cook?" he asked Sheila.

"I don't know. The last one you hired is still on vacation," she
chuckled.

"You are a true artist in the kitchen, Catarina. I take my chef's hat
off to you. This is the best trout I ever tasted..... today," John
said, realizing the hole he had just dug. Sheila chuckled.

"Don't worry, love. I concur. Mine is good, but it's not this good."

"Thank you, both of you. A recipe my mother taught me. I seldom get to
prepare it. Saffron is almost mandatory for it to come out right. It
will work with most any white fish. I am quite pleased with how it
tastes with trout," Catarina said, glowing from their praise.

"You should be pleased. It's fantastic. I have a new secret recipe for
trout," John said.

"So do I," Sheila giggled.

"Oh, I would not throw yours away. Yours was quite good. But you could
mix the two of them. Try baking the trout with the bacon in it and
saut�ing the shrimp in this for the sauce. I think that would turn out
great," Catarina suggested.

"Yes, I will try that. If our mighty hunter can catch some more
trout.... So, I never knew you had diplomatic training, Catarina,"
Sheila chuckled. They all had a good chuckle. After lunch, John took
the wheel. Steering them into the ranger station parking lot not far
down the road and then unhitching the car. He loaded up his fishing
equipment.

"I suggest that you pack a snack and join me. It's quite lovely up this
valley. One of my favorites," he said.

"Maybe next time. I think Catarina and I will stay here and have a
little nap. I feel quite ready after that lovely lunch," Sheila said,
looking to Catarina. Catarina nodded, smiling.

"Okay, I'd recommend that you don't try bringing the motor home in
should you change your mind. It's quite narrow. Should you decide to
walk in, it's about four and a half miles. Take a jacket with you. It
can get chilly up here quick in the afternoons after the sun drops
below the high ridges," John said.

"Perhaps we may take a walk later. We will take a jacket if we do and
stay on the road in case you decide to come back," Catarina said.

"Okay, have a nice time," John said. Putting his finger to his lips and
then pointing around. Both women nodded. He collected long kisses from
each of them and then headed up the dirt road.

"So, you really feel like a nap?" Catarina asked, suspiciously.

"Well, sleeping wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Sheila said,
grinning at her. Catarina smiled radiantly and moved into her arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 80

John drove up into a broader valley. He drove past a steel gate leading
to a private cabin association and up to a public camp ground. He
parked and prepared his fishing gear, then made his way down to the
stream. Fighting the scrub oak that had inundated the lovely valley.
When John had first visited the valley as a boy, there was only a small
patch of it at one end. The rest was open grassed meadow. Had he known
then what the scrub oak would do, he would have happily taken a chain
and a truck to it. But he had been too young to drive then.

"Twenty-twenty hindsight," he mumbled to himself, fighting his way to
the stream. The extra foliage also kept the water from draining.
Creating other ecologies in the process. John was unappreciative of
this fact as he repeatedly stepped in stagnant pools surrounded with
mosquitoes.

He finally reached the stream, with at least a pint of his blood
missing, he thought. He began to work the stream. First he worked his
way up. Catching several small trout that he released to grow up. Up
just into the wilderness boundary he caught his first nice one. This he
kept. He made his way another half mile up stream and crossed the
stream on a fallen log, cut by beavers but much too large for them to
move. They must have been after the food source of the higher
branches... or just exercising their teeth. He mused.

He fished his way down a spell until he reached the old trapper's cabin
from the 1800's. Now just a small rectangle of rotting logs some two to
three feet tall. He sat down on a broad rock and poured himself a cup
of coffee.

"Your stroke is getting better," a voice said.

"That's what Sheila tells me," he responded, without looking towards
it.

Howdy chuckled, "Where's your shadow?" he asked.

"About half a mile down on the other side, looking for a way across.
There isn't one. The women chose to stay and get randy so I figure
there's just him," John said.

"Better stay hidden anyway. So, how's tricks?" Howdy asked.

"One o-clock sharp, day after tomorrow," John said.

"He said he'd be there?" Howdy asked, excited.

"Yeah, but Catarina's getting spooked. I don't blame her. There was no
need to bug the motor home after she reported she had the film. Doing
so was either very stupid, or they suspect something. I don't like it
either way," John said, sipping his coffee.

"Got another cup of that?" Howdy asked. There were two stacking cups on
the thermos, John only held one. He stretched suddenly and bumped the
thermos with his arm, it rolled into the doorway of the cabin. A hand
snatched it. A gurgling sound was heard and then a contented sigh.

"Good coffee, thanks," Howdy said.

"You're welcome. How about snagging my tail just before the snatch?"
John asked.

"It was planned. All sorts of people are going to get snagged all over
the U.S. All we needed was the exact time," Bill answered.

"Good, what time can I start back for Temple Square?" John asked.

"I'd rather you didn't," Bill said.

"Yeah, so what time should it be safe for me to do so?" John asked.

Bill moaned, "No sooner than twelve-thirty. And hang well back out of
the area. I don't want one of Sergei's spotters making you and blowing
the whole thing."

"That's doable. Airport to Temple Square in half an hour," John said,
"Tell you what. Ping my E-mail when he gets on premise with the girl. I
promise to hang back until then."

"That's doable... and agreeable. You'd better start moving again. I
don't want your tail to see your mouth move," Bill said.

"See you day after tomorrow. One o-clock. And I'd buy some ointment
down at that gas station," John said, standing up and retrieving his
thermos.

"Why's that?" Bill asked.

"'Cause those green plants in there are Poison Ivy. It moved in when I
was a kid. I found out the hard way while I was playing in there," John
chuckled. Bill moaned and cussed. John still chuckled as he packed up
his thermos and moved off. Bill let him get well down stream before he
slipped around the walls and back into the woods, itching as he moved.

It was sheer luck that John's tail didn't see Howdy. He just happened
to be looking at his soaking feet when Bill slipped out of the rotting
rectangle. He had discovered that there wasn't a place to cross lower
down and ended up using the same log John had. Now he hurried to stay
up with him. John fished down the stream, landing a second large trout.
One more to go. He was almost down to the bridge with the metal gate
when he hooked the largest one he had ever caught on a fly line. It
took him a solid twenty minutes of fighting on the thin line to finally
exhaust the monster enough that he dared reach for it. He just barely
got his fingers in the gills to lift it when it twitched suddenly and
broke the line. He quickly slung it up onto the bank and then raced
over to it to knock it out. It had to be almost two feet long. This one
wasn't going back.

He sat down and cleaned them all, then washed them and his hands in the
stream. Almost losing the big one in the current. He thanked the stars
he hadn't and stowed them all in his fishing creel. A short time later
a DNR ranger came by and checked his license and catch. He was
surprised when John produced a valid, out of state, fishing license.

"Most folks think they can get away with it for just one day," the
ranger chuckled.

"Yeah, with what it cost me, I can believe it. But how much is the
fine?" John asked.

"Three hundred dollars, your tackle and fish," replied the ranger.

"So I saved myself over two fifty. That big one was worth that much to
me by itself," John chuckled. The ranger looked at it and smiled
appreciatively then hefted the bag, frowning. He took a small scale out
of his pocket and weighed each fish. John became worried.

"Technically, you're over the daily weight limit," he said.

"I caught the other two first, they were dead when I caught the big
one. I wasn't about to throw it back," John moaned.

"Well, I'm not going to write you up for that. But your fishing is over
for the day.. except catch and release.. and there's always the danger
of damaging the fish beyond recovery point," the ranger said.

"No, I'm content with what I've got. I had a good day. Thanks," John
said.

"You are quite welcome, sir. We like to encourage out of staters to
fish here.. as long as they buy a license. If you hadn't had that I'd
cite you for both that and the weight limit. But have a good day," the
ranger said, moving on. John was glad he got to keep his prize. He
headed down stream until he came to the bridge and then crossed over
it. Glancing up the stream he saw the ranger talking to someone else,
probably his shadow. The agent wondered about the encounter with the
man down stream. Until he hailed him.

"Excuse me sir. Do you have any fishing tackle or bait with you?" he
asked.

"No, I'm just out for a hike," he told the ranger.

"Kind of dressed wrong for that," the ranger said.

"I wasn't expecting it to be this wet along the banks."

"Yeah, ever since this damn scrub oak took over the valley. You should
have seen it years ago. Open grass land it was. Just one small patch of
those damn bushes. Wished I'd pulled it out," the ranger said.

"I wouldn't know about that. How was the fishing up here today?" the
agent asked.

"Very nice. Just talked to a fellow from out of state that caught his
limit. One real beauty. A good thing he had his license, he would have
lost it and his tackle, not to mention three hundred dollars," the
ranger replied.

"Well, I'd better be heading on. I'm parked up the other side. Any
place to cross down here?" asked the agent.

"Just the bridge, about a half mile further down. Have a good day,
sir," said the ranger.

"Thank you, you too," said the agent. Starting down the path. He was
dogged tired already. John passed him in the compact while the agent
was still a mile from his car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Continued in chapters 81-85.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with
all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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