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Castle In The Sand [81-85]
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 81

"How about that walk?" Sheila asked.

"You can still walk? I must be losing my touch," Catarina purred.

"Your touch is just fine. Come on, it will do you good. The air up here
is fresh and pure, if a little thin. But you should be used to that..."
Sheila said.

"Yes, this area is very much like Austria. A walk might be nice. But I
do not think I am up to a four and a half mile trek," Catarina said.

"No, just a stroll up the road," Sheila promised, bending to kiss her
softly. Catarina responded, just as softly. The kiss was a sensual
delight. Sheila smiled at her, then rolled onto her feet. "Come on,
daylight's slipping," she said. Catarina traced her fingers over
Sheila's shapely thigh and then moved groggily to her feet, moaning a
bit.

"The price you pay for advanced loving," Sheila giggled.

"How do you do it? I know you felt the same thing I did, and just as
many times.." Catarina asked.

"I've just had more experience with marathons of devastating sex with
John and the others," Sheila chuckled.

"Quite a life you lead," Catarina said carefully, not telling Sheila it
wasn't so.

"Yes... well, come on," Sheila said. She dug into the wardrobe and
found one of Cindy's outfits that was appropriate.

"A little thin is it not? I might be a bit cool in that. It is lovely,
though," Catarina said.

"Trust me," Sheila said. Catarina looked at her, pulling on a similar
outfit.

"Okay, but I expect you to keep me warm then."

"Gladly, but it won't be a problem. I promise," Sheila said. She pulled
out two light jackets, of the same material. Even with that it seemed
too light. They pulled tennis shoes onto their feet and then left a
note to John saying that they were just going up the road a bit. Sheila
locked the motor home and they started down the road. The agent
watching them cussed. He was freezing. The sun had passed over the
ridge a good half hour before and the temperature had dropped almost
twenty degrees since. His jacket was in the car, up the road somewhere
following John.

He took consolation in the fact that the girls weren't much better
dressed than he was, in fact, their outfits looked quite thin. He was
sure they would soon turn around and return. He followed from as far a
distance as he could and still see their actions.

"This is amazing. I know it is quite chilly from my cheeks. But I feel
toasty warm. What is this material?" Catarina asked. Sheila chuckled.

"A fabric John read about and was able to duplicate. We have to pay
patent rights to it's inventor, but it's well worth it. That adds very
little to our cost per outfit. The fabric stores heat in the form of
fiber twist. When it gets cool, it gives up that twist in the form of
heat. When it's too hot, it absorbs heat. Marvelous stuff," Sheila
said.

"That it is. I love it. It feels sexy. Being so light and yet warm. You
say it cools too?" Catarina asked.

"Yes.. to a limit. We would need warmer clothing to stay out a long
time. But for an hour or so, this is just fine. In the summer time, you
can tell when the fabric has reached its capacity. You suddenly begin
to get warm. On some days away from the silo I change outfits multiple
times. You can even bias them one way or the other by putting them in
the freezer or oven till they saturate," Sheila said.

"What's it like in the silo... to live I mean?" Catarina asked. Sheila
looked around. There was no one in sight.

"Well, I am hoping that you will choose to find out for yourself.
But... it's wonderful. I've never known a more loving atmosphere. The
silo itself is comfortable, having all that natural insulation and
solar heating. You hardly notice the temperature most the time. Perhaps
because of that, we don't usually wear very much. Perhaps that
contributes much to the loving atmosphere," Sheila said.

"So simple a thing as temperature making an environment conducive to
love. And most places pay so little attention to it," Catarina mused.

"Perhaps that's why the silo is such a nice place to live. All the
simple things have been taken care of. John put great thought into
everything he did while building it," Sheila said.

"John built the whole thing? By himself?" Catarina asked,
incredulously.

"Pretty much. Oh, not the silo part per se. He purchased an empty
concrete tube forty-five feet in diameter and a hundred-seventy feet
deep. He drilled all the walls and hung girders for fifteen floors.
Then one by one he finished them off. Later, when there were more of
us, we pitched in to work on unfinished floors. Working on the silo
kind of became therapy after dealing with the world outside. Theresa
helped him with the guest room floor, where Cindy first stayed. Then
the two of them helped him with the master bedroom... which you'd
absolutely flip over. It has a trap door in it that drops you into the
swimming pool in the bottom. A nice deep pool without chlorine and so
sparkling clean you would gladly drink it. Yet heated comfortably.

"The kitchen is the most wonderful place to cook a meal. With lots of
butcher block cutting surfaces set into both counters. It has a
pedestal with a sink and a smokeless grill and a second oven and range
top. And a small refrigerator set up just for condiments. On the main
counter you have a large sink, microwave, range and an oven.
Additionally there is a convection oven and just about every type of
appliance you could think of. The counter is deep and well lit. There
is a refrigerator at each end.

"There's oodles of built in storage. We all like cream of mushroom
soup, so there is a special rack that dispenses cans of just that kind.
Upstairs is a large well stocked pantry with multiple freezers and
above that is a hydroponics room that is now supplying a regular supply
of fresh vegetables year round. On the other side of the kitchen, is a
wet bar, fully stocked with just about every liqueur from all around
the world. It has it's own fridge too. For seating, one side of the
pedestal has a raised section on it, which forms a lunch counter. You
can make a lunch while looking at a person, face to face to talk and
then serve it to them just by reaching up. There are bar stools along
the counter and bar. In the middle of it all is this massive trestle
table, but with long overhangs on the ends. So you can eat an intimate
dinner for two or a sit down feast for twenty. It has large, padded
swivel chairs around it, on wheels.

"On the far wall is a curved sofa that follows the curve of the silo
wall. It is very comfortable and big enough for sleeping or cuddling. I
guess the kitchen is the main social center of the silo.. at least...
for now," Sheila concluded.

"It sounds delightful. I can almost picture the whole thing in my mind
from how you describe it.... I gather you stalled there because you
were going to tell me something you shouldn't?" Catarina said. Sheila
looked around again. This time she caught a glimpse of a shirt slipping
behind a tree, quite a ways back. She chuckled. The poor guy must be
freezing.

"Yes... It's not a matter of trust. I trust you enough now. But I made
a promise that I wouldn't reveal certain things," Sheila said.

"I understand.. I think," Catarina replied.

"I doubt it. But I can tell you that they aren't bad things. Not like
the whole situation would imply. But they are things which could affect
other people, other places. Not so easy to explain, but easy to
understand when you know the reason for it," Sheila said. She could
tell that Catarina was still confused. She longed to take her in her
arms and tell her everything. But she just couldn't do it. John had
honed her own ethics to a fine edge that ruled her now. Not by demand,
but by example.

"You know we have a tail?" Sheila asked.

"Yes. I expected it," Catarina said, distantly.

"Poor guy must be freezing," Sheila mused.

"Could not happen to a more deserving man," Catarina said.

"You know who it is?" Sheila asked.

"Yes, I saw him this morning at the track. He was my contact. He
worries me," Catarina said.

"Why?" Sheila asked.

"Because he bugged the motor home while we were away last night. There
was no need for that. I had reported I *had* the film. That he did so
was either stupid, or he thinks something is wrong. I hope it's the
first thing," Catarina said.

"I do too. That's why I wanted to take this walk. So we could talk a
bit more freely. I sort of resent the guys action myself. He robbed us
of a growing intimacy that we may never know again. The intimacy is
still growing... but we can't talk about it without raising suspicion.
And I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to be able to tell you just how
much this time with you has meant to me. How much I've grown to love
you," Sheila said. Catarina stopped and turned to Sheila. She pulled
her into a gentle kiss that lasted a long time.

"Fucking dike bitches. I'm freezing my nuts off and they decide to take
a walk out a mile into the mountains in thin clothes to make out," the
agent said to himself from his vantage point a quarter mile back.

"You want to turn back?" Sheila asked, warming Catarina's cheeks with
her hands.

"No, I like the idea that that asshole back there is freezing while I'm
warm enough," Catarina chuckled.

"Then let's continue to walk until we meet John. He should be coming
back soon. It's getting dark," Sheila said. They walked hand in hand,
enjoying each other's presence.

"You think he caught any fish?" Catarina asked.

"I've almost quit wondering just what John is capable of. Every time I
think he won't be able to do something... he pulls it off... look... A
doe and two fawns," Sheila said, freezing her motion and dropping her
voice. Catarina stopped too, delighted by the sight of the wildlife
family.

"I wonder where daddy is?" she whispered. As if on cue a magnificent
buck walked slowly out of the trees and along by the doe.

"That's actually odd," Sheila whispered back. "The bucks are usually
loners or travel together when it's not mating season."

"Now what the fuck are they doing? Just standing there? Whispering
together?" the agent asked himself. He wasn't watching what he was
doing. He tripped on a branch from a fallen tree. It made a loud snap.
The noise startled the deer and they all bounded away.

"Asshole, at least he could be quiet if he has to follow us," Catarina
mused. Just then they caught the glow of headlights coming through the
trees. They hadn't realized how dark it was getting. John kept in mind
that the girls might be walking towards him. Even so he barely saw
them. He pulled to a stop.

"Hey, ladies. Like to come back to my place for a little dinner and
loving?" he asked, rolling down the window.

"Why, that's very kind of you, sir! Are two of us enough or should we
call reinforcements?" Sheila chuckled.

"You two will do just fine. Want to walk back or ride?... You walked a
long way," he said.

"Ride, we were actually about walked out, but we decided to continue
until we met you," Catarina replied.

"Well, hop in. I'm sure this pregnant roller skate has room for the two
of you," he chuckled. The women moved around and climbed in.

"Is that fish I smell?" Sheila asked. John grinned and put the car in
drive. They made the mile and a half back to the motor home in just a
few minutes. Both Sheila and Catarina grinning over the agent they left
behind, cold and tired. John hitched the compact up to the motor home
while the girls carried his things inside. Sheila gasped when she
looked into the creel. Pulling out the monster trout and putting it in
the sink along with the other two, good sized ones.

"God, John. It's huge!" she gasped when he came in.

"What? Did I leave my zipper open?" he grinned. Catarina laughed at his
guttural humor.

"You two should get along just fine if you like his jokes," Sheila
mused, rolling her eyes. "Want it for dinner?" she asked.

"No, actually I was dreaming about those chuck steaks that have been
marinating for several days. They should just about jump off the bone
and into your mouth by now," John said.

"So what do we do with the fish?" Sheila asked.

"Wrap it in foil and freeze them. Wrap them separately. Leave one of
the smaller ones out if you want them for breakfast. I have a special
dinner in mind for the big one," John replied. Both women smiled
broadly and nodded. Thinking they understood. John cleaned up while the
women stored the fish and started on dinner.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 82

John took the wheel and pulled out. Heading towards *Mirror* lake and
*Bald Mountain* Pass. Knowing the area, he kept his eyes open and his
speed slow. He'd had an unpleasant experience years before on this same
road, involving a motorcycle and a deer. He'd come out lucky. So had
the deer. The bike wasn't so lucky. He'd faired okay because he had his
leathers and helmet on. He still got a mild concussion. The impact when
he'd flipped off the rock had ripped the zipper out of his pants and
shredded his parka. If he hadn't had on his leather coat *under* his
winter parka, it would have ripped *him* open. He remembered all this
while he drove up the scenic highway. Now mostly just a wall of dark
trees on either side and an occasional moonlit lake.

"Keep yourselves braced back there. I may have to brake suddenly to
avoid a deer. In fact, I'd feel better if you both buckled in and held
dinner till later," he said.

"How about I nuke some veggies and start the steaks in the broiler,
then strap in while they cook?" Sheila asked.

"That will probably be alright," he said.

"Good, I'm hungry," she replied.

"I will start the vegetables while you start the steaks," Catarina
volunteered. About that time the agent in the car came sailing down the
dirt road, trying to make up time. There suddenly was his partner in
his path and he laid on the brakes hard, barely missing him, but
showering him with gravel and dust.

"Where the fuck have you been?" asked the first, climbing into the car,
coughing dust.

"He decided to play *Jeremiah Johnson* and go mountaineering. I just
got back to the car. Where are they?" asked the second.

"Fuck if I know. Turn on the heat, I'm freezing. God, you stink," said
the first.

"Yeah, I got a little wet in stagnant ponds. What do you mean you don't
know?" asked the second.

"Fuckin' dike bitches decided to take a little walk down the road a
mile and a half to make out. Then old Cowboy comes toodling along and
they climb in the car with him. I'm supposed to be watching their every
move, so that's what I do. Freezing my nuts off while they walk along
in thin pant suits like they was in fricking Las Vegas. Now they head
back to the motor home, only I ain't that fast. You had the car. That's
what I mean I don't fucking know!" said the first.

"Calm down. Ain't many places they can hide a motor home that size. We
head in the direction they were going. We should see them," said the
second.

"So do it. We lose them and Sergei will have our nuts for lunch.
Where's my damn jacket? Turn on that heat. God, you stink," said the
first.

"Which first?" asked the second, mockingly.

"Hit the gas, turn on the heat. I'll find the jacket. I'll have to live
with the stink," said the first. The second headed down the road,
chuckling.

John drove leisurely up the road. Whenever a car would come up behind
him, he would pull a little to the side and let them pass. There
weren't many. It was a weeknight. Just as it had been that night he
laid his bike down to avoid the deer. Past Mirror lake and up the
backside of Bald Mountain pass he slowly climbed. The large engine of
the motor home equal to the task. He only had to slow once to let a
deer cross. It just stood there in his headlights. Smack dab in front
of him until he honked once, then it was bounding away, back on its
original course to get a drink of water.

"That's precisely why I wanted you strapped in," John said.

"Why do they do that? Just freeze I mean?" Catarina asked.

"I guess it's just instinct. A moving target is easier to spot.
Especially in the forest. Our eyes automatically move towards any
movement. Headlights are an unknown to them so they represent a danger.
By the time the flight mechanism cuts in, it's too late. They're not
used to things approaching them at automobile speeds," John explained.

"That makes sense," Catarina nodded.

"He just made it up," Sheila chuckled.

"It still makes sense," Catarina said.

"I like her more all the time," John chuckled.

"I'll bet," Sheila said, but she squoze Catarina's hand.

"Coming up on an important spot," John said as he slowed for the
hairpin. Just around it he slowed to a crawl. "That big rock right
there. I know it intimately," he said.

"You had sex with a rock?" Sheila asked, smirking.

"Almost. A deer jumped out in front of my motorcycle, on a night just
like this. I had to lay it down to miss it. I bounced off that rock
halfway through my resultant flight," he said.

"You never told me that. Is that why you're so spooked about deer in
headlights?" Sheila asked.

"Maybe. I just don't want to hurt them unnecessarily. I was only a
teenager when that happened. Back in the middle ages. Funny thing is
that deer don't like it up this high. He must have been crossing over
the top," John mused.

"How high are we?" Catarina asked.

"Read it yourself. Just over ten thousand feet. This is the pass," John
said as they passed the sign. He pulled the motor home over into the
lookout stall. It was big enough it would block any other cars from
using the small lookout, but it was a weeknight and not everybody
stopped to look. He set the brake and shut off the engine.

"An *oooh, ahh* stop," he explained. He snagged a jacket and they all
piled out of the motor home.

"Oh god, John. It is so pretty!" Catarina exclaimed. Below them was a
myriad of lakes shining silver white in reflected moonlight. Everywhere
they looked, they looked down, except behind them to the side where the
actual *bald headed* peak resided. Sheila kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, dear. I'm gonna go take the steaks out before we need those
fish again," Sheila said. Catarina snuggled back against him and he put
her arms around her.

"I will always remember this... as long as I live," she said. He kissed
her tenderly in the shining moonlight. The air so crisp, clean -and
thin- that you could see for what seemed hundreds of miles.

"Well, that's my ooh, ahh stop," he said, "guess we'd better go eat."

"Just a sec..... ooooh, aaahhh....Okay, now we can go eat," she
chuckled. Sheila's timing was perfect. The steaks were medium rare. The
veggies were done to just the tender edge of crispness. With microwave
technology, man no longer had to eat a hard vegetable to have a healthy
one. The over cooking in water that robbed them of vitamins didn't
apply. John still liked his a little bit crisp. John opened the side
curtains so they could see the view.

"Like dinner on the top of the world," Catarina mused.

"John certainly has his moments," Sheila mused. 'Like *every one* of
them,' she thought to herself. Catarina was thinking along the same
lines. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said.

"Quite welcome. Wow, this steak is tender," he said.

"You marinate it for two days you could probably make shoe leather this
tender," Sheila mused.

"You seem to know quite a lot about this area," Catarina said.

"I lived in Salt Lake City while I was growing up," John said.

"What pulled you away?" she asked.

"Well, Salt Lake is kind of a unique town. First off, it's
predominantly Mormon. They settled it back in the eighteen something or
others. Thirty's? No... forty-seven. I remember the big *Days of forty-
seven* celebrations when I was a child. So that must have been it.
Anyway, It's got a predominantly religious population. That makes it
sort of a restrictive town, but a nice place to live and raise a
family. Which is also something they are really good at here. They
raise an *awful* lot of kids here.

"It's a big city, size wise, but other ways it felt like a small town.
I don't know, maybe it still does. I haven't lived there for a long
time. Anyway, with a town like that... Well, you can only grow so much,
intellectually... but no, that's not right either. I've met some very
brilliant people in the world, but none any brighter than I met there.
I guess it just had a shortage of the type of jobs that *I* was growing
into. I was an electronics technician working my way up the technology
ladder. I reached the top of what I could do there, as a technician.
There were no bridges there then between technician and an engineering
position. So I loaded up my old VW bus and headed for Silicon Valley,"
he concluded.

"You never came back?" Catarina asked.

"I tried to. After D�tente, the defense electronics world kind of
collapsed for a while everywhere. I came back thinking that all my
experience would count for something in an engineer's job. Between all
the applicants in my field out of work, and my lack of degree, I
couldn't find a job here. I eventually had to move elsewhere to find a
job," John said.

"You sound a bit bitter over it," Catarina said.

"I was quite bitter about it for a long time. I lost a lot. A wife and
child among them. For better or worse lasted about three quarters
through better. She was long gone by the time worse rolled around... I
don't know. I guess in some ways I'm still a little bitter about it.
The part that still pisses me off the most, is that it's not what you
*really* are that counts in the world.. it's what you *appear* to be
that matters. Perhaps that's why I didn't keep moving up the corporate
ladder. I didn't try to *appear* to be anything but what I am. I like
what I am. I'm content being what I am. But with everybody in the world
pretending to be whiz-bang miracle workers, an honest, competent
engineer who appears to be an honest, competent engineer hasn't got a
chance. Those positions go to wannabe idiots who are good at pretending
to be competent engineers," John said.

"Well, I've seen multiple examples of your work. I know you to be an
extremely honest and competent engineer. Second Skin would not exist
without that skill. I would not be CEO and I would still be miserable,"
Sheila said.

"You didn't seem so miserable when I first met you," John said.

"I was.. I just had a positive attitude," Sheila said.

"Well, guess I'd better get on the road. We've got another few hours of
driving to do before we reach a hook up," John said.

"Do we need one?" Catarina asked.

"Well, no. We've got everything we need but a safe, level place to
park," John said.

"Where's the nearest one of those?" Sheila asked.

"Oh, I guess *Soapstone* campground. Down the hill a bit," John said.

"How long?" Sheila asked.

"Oh, forty-five minutes," he replied.

"Let's do that then. For one thing, I want to see this area we're
driving through. We can't do that at night. Where were you heading
for?" Sheila asked.

"Park City, I figured after the cowboys in Evanston, that you might
enjoy a thriving little resort town Very *Nouveaux*," John said.

"Yuck," Catarina said.

"That's the first colloquialism that I ever heard you use... but I
concur," Sheila said.

"Alright, you've got it," John said, bussing his dishes. He climbed
into the driver's seat and started the engine, then started down the
road. He had the women hold off with cleanup till they were parked
again. A good thing as a short way down the hill John had to lay hard
on the brakes to avoid another deer. Had the women been standing, they
would have surely been catapulted through the windshield.

"Don't know why I ever argue with the man," Sheila mused quietly to
herself.

"Because you like him to surprise you," Catarina answered her quietly,
grinning. Sheila looked at her and nodded, grinning back.

The Russian agents stood looking at the front end of their car. They
had been trying to lay on some speed to catch the motor home. There had
been no chance when the small four-point buck had suddenly jumped out
in front of them and froze. They had hardly reduced speed at all when
they hit it full broadside. The impact ripped their grill and knocked
their radiator back into the fan, which punctured it. Then the deer
flipped up and smashed their windshield, almost landing in their
startled lap. Their air bags had been the only thing that had saved
them from eating glass and being splattered with deer guts.

"Oh, Sergei's going to love this one! Sorry, the girls went for a walk
and we lost them. Then we couldn't catch up cause *Bambi* wrecked our
car," said the first one.

"Fuck you," said the second one. The first one smugly flipped open his
cellular phone.. and found static. They were between mountain ranges
with no repeater in line of sight.

"Fuck, we can't even call a tow truck to come get us. Sergei's going to
eat my nuts for lunch," said the first one.

"Now pay attention, cause I don't want to have to say this twice; I
don't give a flying fuck about Sergei right at this moment. *We* are at
least forty miles from civilization, high up in the mountains. With no
communication. I am damp and it's likely to actually reach below thirty
degrees tonight. It's close to that now. All we have are bull shit
jackets designed to comfortably protect you between your car and the
super market door. It's a week night, so there are hardly any tourists
passing through and we're off the main route so no truckers will pass
by. In other words, it's likely to be one cold, miserable, fuck of a
night. Now if you wish to worry about what Sergei wants for lunch
tomorrow you just fucking go ahead. But shut the fuck up, cause I'm
mainly concerned with staying alive," the second agent concluded.

The first agent looked at him, his mouth agape, dumbfounded, realizing
he was correct.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 83

John pulled over on the side of the road and grabbed a flashlight and
his thermal jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sheila asked.

"It's been a long time since I was here. I just want to make certain
there's a place to turn this beast around before I pull in," he said.

"Oh," she said. John pulled his jacket around him as he walked down the
small dirt road, thankful for its thermal characteristics. He had it
fully snapped up by the time he got back. It was going to be a cold
night. No surprise to him. When he had been young and foolish, he had
longed to live in this area year round. The snow plows stopped over
twenty miles away in each direction. It would have been a rough life
indeed.

"You found a place?" Sheila asked as he climbed back in the motor home.

"Yup. Nice little flat spot. Behind those big trees on the left," he
said.

"I mean a place to turn around?" she said. He grinned at her and
nodded. Pulling the large motor home carefully down the narrow path. He
pulled into the slot he had picked and rocked around a bit till his
level indicators read close. Then he flipped a switch and the motor
home leveled itself.

"Ah, decadence," John mused.

"What?" Catarina asked.

"Leveling a motor home without blocks of wood and an hour of farting
around," John said. A light flashed green on the dash. "Done. We be
home," he chuckled.

"Now can I do the dishes?" Sheila asked.

"No, now I can," John said.

"Why you?" she asked.

"One, 'cause I *want* to. Second, have you ever taken a navy shower?"
he asked.

"What's that?" she asked.

"My point. We have a limited water supply. Every gallon used on the
dishes, is one we don't have for the shower," John said.

"I understand that," she said.

"Fine, so watch me the first time. Then you can do it to your heart's
content from now on," he said.

"You are the most *exasperating* man at times," she said.

"Why? Because I don't expect or desire women to wait on me?" he asked.

"You do at home," she said.

"At home, I hired two cooks... three now, but the other seems to be on
perpetual vacation. I *pay* them to cook and clean up. That is their
*job*. They do it because they are *paid* to do it. It isn't their job
simply because they are women," he said.

"My, my, a liberated man besides all his other fine points," Catarina
said, admiringly.

"I guess I knew that when he hired me as a CEO," Sheila mused.

"If you would like to do something, I think a pot of coffee would be
enjoyed by all," he said, setting about pre-scraping the dishes.

"You've got the sink full," she said.

"One in the bathroom. Same water comes out. Just do a light rinse," he
said. Catarina grinned at Sheila and winked. Sheila grinned back.
"Don't know why she gets this way," John said, when she had left the
kitchen.

"I do..... Because she loves you dearly. It is getting near the time
when she has to go back and be a CEO. That is why she is desperately
trying to be the other things a woman has been known to be in the
past," Catarina said softly. John looked at her a moment and nodded.

"You are a very perceptive person at times," John said, "So I should
let her?" he asked.

"Yes, she will love you even more for it," Catarina replied.

"And you, your time is running short too. What can I do for you?" he
asked.

"Just love me like you mean it," she said, softly.

"Ah, a simple task. Easy to do, 'cause I do mean it," John said.
Catarina looked around and put her finger to her lips. John shook his
head. "When I was checking this place out, did any cars pass by?" he
asked.

"No," she said.

"Well, I watched the mirror as much as I dared coming down the hill. If
there was a car behind us, I would have seen its headlights, unless
they were stupid enough to descend a mountain road at night without
them," John said.

"So?" Catarina asked.

"So, the thing about small transmitters, is that they have small power.
The smaller the transmitter, the smaller the power. The way that they
get around this, is by using a higher frequency. The higher the
frequency, the shorter the wave length. Now the thing about shorter
wave length radio, is that it bounces off things real well, except the
atmosphere. Longer waves are the only ones that do that. So my point
is, that low power, high frequency radio transmitters are only good if
you are close by, in line of sight of the transmitter. Otherwise, the
signal just takes a bounce off the nearest mountain side and angles up
into space. Not bouncing off the atmosphere. A single watt transmitter
may communicate over thirty miles, but you won't hear a peep out of it
if you're behind a small knoll," John explained.

"Your point being?" Sheila asked, returning with a pot of water and
getting some beans out of the freezer.

"My point being that I didn't see any car coming down the hill after
us, unless it was a long ways back. So, nobody is in range to hear any
bug that might be listening to us right now. Even less likely, in fact
that a bug is even listening to us. Because the way they get around
battery size and life, is by broadcasting the power to the bug from a
transmitter. The bug picks up the broadcast wave and modulates it with
whatever signal it hears. Then re-transmits a portion of that same
power as the signal that is picked up, for them to hear what is said.
So in other words, if no signal is being broadcast to the bugs, then
they are totally inert. To wit, nobody is listening. We have relative
privacy for the moment," John concluded.

"Your electronics lesson for today," Sheila said, putting the beans
into the grinder.

"I understand part of what you are saying, the low power, short range
part. But I don't follow the transmit in and out part," Catarina said,
after Sheila finished grinding.

"Something the Russians came up with actually. They gave a large,
carved wooden seal -an emblem- as a present to the United Nations. It
used to hang in the security council. Well, one day some British Ham
radio operators were trying to call home from New York and stumbled
upon a signal coming out of the United Nations building. What was being
broadcast was a closed meeting of the security council. Not cool. But a
sweep of the cambers found no operating transmitters. When they could
finally arrange a sweep, that is. But by then the Russians had turned
off their transmitter, so no power was being received by the bug.

"They finally figured it out. They started sweeping the chamber with a
transmitter broadcasting different frequencies until they got something
else back. Bingo. This led them to the great seal. In it they found an
ingenious little bug. Tiny and requiring no batteries. It was little
more than a chamber with a wire attached for an antenna. The radio
waves were picked up by the antenna and coupled into the camber. A
small, thin metal diaphragm on one side acted as a microphone. Any
sound hitting the diaphragm, caused the chamber to change shape just a
bit, causing the radio waves inside to be changed just a bit. This
change was then coupled back out the same antenna that was picking up
the power. This small change would be directly relative to the sound
that was picked up. A master work of simplicity and efficiency," John
said.

"So all you have to do to look for a bug, is to look for a signal
coming out of it? And if you sweep a signal into an area and nothing
comes out, then there are no bugs?" Catarina asked.

"Used to be. Now you have micro power integrated circuits. Like in your
watch. That circuit uses so little power that the battery will go dead
virtually as fast sitting on the shelf, as it will in that watch. With
circuits requiring so little power, you can give a bug a degree of
smarts. It won't respond to just any signal. It has to be a special
signal," John explained.

"Ah, I see, unless you know what to send to it, nothing comes out,"
Catarina said.

"Yes, exactly," John beamed at her.

"You seem to comprehend technical things very well," Sheila said,
impressed herself.

"My father used to let me come watch him in his workshop. He was a sort
of inventor. He was an accountant for a banking firm as his job, but he
was always tinkering at home. He taught me a lot," Catarina said.

"Your folks... you said they had died. How?" John asked.

"In a small plane crash, five years ago," she said softly.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

"My folks met a nice Hungarian couple about a year before. They did not
have many friends, so I was glad for it. They spent much time together.
The man's hobby was flying. They were on a trip to Switzerland. My
folks had saved for months. They thought to save money by flying
themselves in the pilot's small plane. Something happened, they do not
know what. The plane was scattered all over a hillside. They never even
found the man and his wife. My folks were killed instantly," Catarina
said, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, you must have loved them very much," he said.

"Yes... I am afraid it hit Bianca a bit harder though. She was younger.
I was in my mid-twenties. She was just sixteen. I took over raising
her, which was a task in itself. She took it very badly for a long
time. I thought that the trip to Russia would be good for her. Broaden
her horizons a bit...." Catarina trailed off.

"So you feel responsible for what happened to her?" John asked.
Catarina nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. John caught it with a
finger and moved it to his lips. "The woman, the one you were involved
with, tell me about her. How did you meet her?" he asked. Catarina took
a deep trembling breath to compose herself. Sheila looked at John,
wondering why he was dredging up these painful memories. She knew he
had his reasons, but she was empathic towards Catarina's pain. Tears
were forming in her eyes.

"About six months after my folks died. She came into my shop. I
remember thinking how pretty she was. She tried on several outfits. The
fitting rooms were fairly secluded from the front of the shop, and to
tell the truth, I did not have that much business. Anyway, she had on
one outfit, examining herself in the mirror. It looked quite sexy on
her. She looked over at me and asked me if I liked it. I told her it
looked very sexy on her. She smiled at me and took it off, right before
me. She wore only small French cut panties. She was very beautiful. She
asked me to pick another outfit for her that I thought would look sexy
on her, so I did. She tried it on and it did look very sexy. I found
myself getting quite excited.

"I remember she looked at me and smiled and I felt quite weak. She went
to the racks and sorted through the clothing and selected an outfit.
She handed it to me and said she thought it would look very sexy on
*me*. It seemed odd, but she was quite nice. She suggested that I try
it on, so I did. I remember that I looked up and caught her looking at
me. She did not turn away, she just smiled. I remember blushing and
pulling the outfit on. I think it did look sexy on me. At least I felt
very sexy with her looking at me.

"She invited me out to dinner, saying we would drive the men wild with
our outfits. I did not have many friends myself. I was very lonely. She
was very pretty and nice. I accepted her invitation. She took me out
and bought me a very fine gourmet meal. I did not have much money, so I
seldom had experienced such a meal. She purchased several bottles of
wine with the meal and I am afraid I got very tipsy.

"After we left the restaurant, we went for a walk to clear our heads. I
did not know, or care where we were going. I was having quite a good
time. We ended up at her house. A very fine old cottage. I remember
being quite impressed. She poured us some more wine. I am afraid we
drank another whole bottle. On the last glass she spilled some on my
dress. She told me to take it off so she could soak it. I did not think
a thing about it and did so. She took it into the other room to soak.

"She came back, without her own dress on, again wearing just panties. I
had on my panties and a bra. She put on some music and started to waltz
around. I was watching her. She extended her hand to me and I giggled
and tried to join her. I kind of stumbled and she caught me. Holding me
up against her. She took my hand and put it on her waist and took my
other hand in hers and danced me around, holding me against her. I
found myself getting very excited. When the music stopped, she did not
let me go. She just pulled her head back and looked into my eyes. Then
she kissed me.

"I liked it, so I let her. I had never been with a woman before. Not
too many men for that matter. I was very lonely. She felt good. She
unfastened my brassiere and pulled it from between us. I remember it
felt very good when our breasts merged. Another song started and we
danced together. She had her leg between mine, grinding her hips into
me as we danced. I was getting *very* excited. She kept kissing me.
Putting her tongue into my mouth and rubbing up against me. She held me
to her with her hands on my buttocks. Pulling me hard against her legs.

"When the music stopped, she took me by the hand and led me to her
bedroom. I *thought* we were going to sleep. But she lay me down on the
bed and then took off her panties. Then she stooped and took off mine.
She was very sexy. She crawled on top of me and began kissing me more,
feeling my body. The next thing I knew, she had her hand between my
legs. It had been so very long, and I was so very lonely. I am afraid I
just melted under her touch. She made love to me, giving me two.....
no, three orgasms. Then she asked me to do it to her. I did not know
what to do, but she had pleased me so much.... I did what she had done
to me back to her. Afterwards we both did it again.

"The next morning I was hung over. I was ashamed and feeling dirty. She
started kissing me again. I asked her to stop, but instead she started
licking me again. She would not stop. I experienced an orgasm, and
still, she would not stop. She did not stop until I had many, many
orgasms. She was still licking me when I passed out again. I woke up
and she had me tied to the bed, with a soft velvet rope to each corner
of the bed. Again she started licking me. I remember screaming and
crying, but she kept licking me. Again I passed out. When I woke up she
was licking me again. I could not help it, I got very excited by it.
She licked me everywhere. She kissed me everywhere. She sucked on my
fingers and toes even. I had to go to the bathroom and she would not
let me. Finally she put a bedpan under me and told me to go. When I
could no longer hold it, I did. Afterwards she moved the pan and went
right back to licking me. Again I passed out.

"When I woke up, I was free. She was snuggled to me, caressing my body.
I wanted to leave. But she said, now it was my turn to tie *her* up. I
wanted to punish her for what she had done to me, so I tied her up like
she had me. I tortured her like she had me. I made her pass out many
times. When she begged to go to the bathroom I told her to wet herself.
She did not wait for the bedpan, she just went. She orgasmed as she did
so.

"I pulled the wet bedding from beneath her and treated her as she had
me, licking her after she had urinated. Licking her and kissing her
everywhere. I made her pass out again. Then I untied her. I wanted to
see her face when she woke up, so I did not leave. When she opened her
eyes, she smiled at me and said: 'and now we are free to make love to
each other as equals,' and pulled me to her. Something had changed in
me. I then *wanted* to make love with her. We made love all night.

"We saw quite a lot of each other after that. She had money and I did
not. She would always pay for meals. She bought me presents. She would
let me pay for nothing. I got to feeling guilty, but she said she loved
me and wanted to treat me special. By that time I was very much in love
with her, so I let her. She took me out to private parties. *Sex*
parties. Usually all women. Most were very beautiful. No names were
ever used.

"At first the parties just had a show. A couple would undress and
caress each other slowly, then make love before us. It was very sexy.
These were not bull-dykes. They were very feminine, sexy women. They
were in perfect physical shape. I enjoyed watching it very much. Then
came a party where, when they drew back the curtain, there was a man
tied down to a bed. He had an erection. He was very large. His eyes
were covered by a mask. He was in very good physical condition, very
muscular. Two very feminine women came out and began to kiss and caress
each other on the bed, rubbing on the man as they did so. They gave
each other orgasms, then one crawled on the man's chest while the other
crawled up and impaled herself. She moved until she gave herself an
orgasm. The man did not orgasm, he just stayed hard. The other one
moved to impale herself too. Again he did not orgasm as she did.

"Afterwards the girls turned to the audience, about twelve of us in six
couples. They moved to a couple and invited them up. The couple stood
up and the women undressed and caressed them. Bringing each of the
women to orgasm. Then one guided one woman to the man, who was still
erect. The woman impaled herself upon the man and moved herself to
orgasm. Then her mate did the same thing. Meanwhile, the first girls
pulled another couple up to the stage and undressed and caressed them.
When the second woman was done, the third moved onto the man. Then the
fourth. Each time the women selecting another couple from the audience.
When the couples were through, they stayed nude and moved back and
continued to make love.

"This continued until they selected us. I was so excited I moved in a
dream. They brought me to orgasm and then it was my turn upon the man,
who had not climaxed as yet. I was the last woman to mount him. He was
very large, but I was very turned on. I quite enjoyed it, at the time.
When I climaxed, he did too, he filled me up and screamed like a
wounded animal. Several women lifted me off the man. He was untied and
led away.

"I thought we were through....but they put me back on the bed and then
many hands held me while they tied me down. I fought it, but there were
too many of them. Then there were lips all over me. Kissing me
everywhere. The women took turns licking me to orgasm while all the
others kissed me all over and caressed me. I passed out twice, but when
I would wake up a woman would be licking me and mouths and tongues
would still be all over my body. I don't know how long this lasted. I
lost all track of time. I am quite sure *every* woman had me before
they finally released me. When my friend Greta -that was her name- led
me home, I was in a dream. I slept for a whole day," Catarina sort of
stalled. She was flushed and breathing hard. She wasn't alone in this.
Sheila found herself virtually dripping.

"Greta, what was her nationality?" John asked, hoarsely.

"Hungarian," Catarina said.

"What changed your relationship?" John asked.

"The man from the show, he had a small tattoo on his penis. An Egyptian
*ankh*. I was to see this later, elsewhere.... After my experience at
that show, I got scared. I did not want to see Greta for a long time. I
was scared about what had happened to me. I was afraid of what I would
*become*. I finally agreed to see Greta again on the condition that we
never attended another show. She agreed, but sometimes I know she would
go off to them, because she would talk about them. Sometimes she would
use the stories to excite me while we were making love.

"I did not much hide my relationship with Greta. She would pay for
trips for me and Bianca, who was about to enter her senior year of
school. Greta said she had a friend in Russia who ran the exchange
student program. It was her that arranged Bianca's acceptance to the
program. She even sponsored it," Catarina said, breaking down.

"The man... the tattoo... it was Sergei?" John asked, softly. She
nodded, but wept. Sheila moved to her and hugged her as she cried.
"Catarina, you are *not* responsible. You were set up yourself," he
said. John took his laptop and called in a program. He called up a
picture and showed it to Catarina.

"Do you recognize this woman?" he asked. Catarina looked at the picture
and at him in surprise. She nodded.

"One from the parties, yes," she moaned.

"And her?" John asked, calling in another image. She looked at the
image and disengaged herself from Sheila. Now intensely interested.

"Yes," she said, now more composed. John called image after image onto
the screen and with only two exceptions -that Catarina wasn't sure of-
she recognized every women from the parties. "How do you happen to have
these images?" she asked.

"These are all women who have thrown themselves at me while I have been
on the road," John said.

"A conspiracy?" Sheila asked.

"Undoubtedly. The part that puzzles me, is the timing. They contacted
Catarina before I even bought the silo... maybe even sooner....
Catarina, what exactly did your father do?" he asked.

"He was an accountant...actually an auditor. For a bank," she said.

"A large bank?" he asked.

"Yes, the largest in Austria," she said.

"An old establishment?" he asked.

"Yes, hundreds of years old. Why?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm trying to figure a connection. Whatever Sergei's
interest in your parents was," he said.

"But my parents were killed in a plane crash before I ever met Greta or
Sergei," Catarina said.

"By a Hungarian couple, a former part of the Soviet union. Perhaps it
is just a coincidence, but I don't think so. You said they never found
the other couple. Murder is hardly beyond Sergei. By your description
he was already well involved in controlling women by sex, probably
blackmail too," he said.

"*Sergei killed my parents*!?" Catarina exclaimed.

"Perhaps, maybe not. It may be a simple coincidence.... did your father
ever give you anything special? Something he told you to keep safe?"
John asked.

"Nothing really..... Just an old cuckoo clock. He said it was very old
and that some day would be worth much. I once had it appraised, but it
was only worth.... about seven hundred dollars, American," Catarina
said, computing the difference in her head. "I mainly kept it because
of sentimental value.... It is strange you should ask that, Sergei once
asked me the same question," she said.

"Really? And what did you tell him?" John asked.

"I told him no, I was not thinking of the clock at the time. He asked
if my father had left me anything of value or something special. I told
him of my small financial inheritance. I got a small settlement from
their insurance," she said.

"But you never told him of the clock?" John asked.

"No, never. Why?" she asked. John ignored the question, thinking.
Catarina let him. This was taking on dimensions that Catarina had never
fathomed before. Her loathing and hatred for Sergei was growing
exponentially.

"This clock, it is safe? Don't tell me where it is," he said.

"Yes, in storage with my few other possessions. I pay a small fee every
month to store my things," she said.

"A bonded storage company? You trust them?" he asked.

"Yes, a very old reputable company.. Why? What is this all about?" she
asked.

"I'm not sure. I think that maybe your father found something he wasn't
supposed to, or something that somebody else wanted very much. But I
think that clock is the answer to a lot of things. Maybe the reason for
your parent's death," he said.

"What could it be... he was not an important man," she said.

"I'm sure he was important to you and Bianca.... I think that maybe he
found evidence of an old account, or of some impropriety in the bank.
Certainly something involving a lot of money... They have numbered
accounts in Austria?" he asked.

"Not so much anymore. No new ones, certainly. But in the old days,
yes," she said.

"Tell me, where did he do his work, always in one branch?" John asked.

"No, he went around to all the branches. He dealt with many older
accounts. Sometimes he would deal with the governments of different
countries. Arranging disbursement of funds to relatives. Sometimes
there was no longer anybody legally entitled to the money," she said.

"What happened then?" he asked.

"Sometimes it would go to the governments themselves. Sometimes there
were special instructions accompanying the accounts on what to do in
that event. Sometimes it would go to charities," she said.

"Did he ever go to Russia?" John asked.

"Yes, several times.... a few just before he was killed.... You think
there was a connection?" she asked.

"Perhaps, I think we've just about reached all the conclusions we can
tonight. Most of it is speculation on my part. The rest will have to
wait until we get your sister free," John said.

"Do you really think we will be able to?" Catarina asked, pensively.

"I think that Sergei wants to retain control of you and your sister. I
think he will try a double cross.... but... I have faith in our people.
I think we should shut up now. We've said way too much already. I don't
want to endanger your sister or you any more than we have to, to get
her free," he said.

"Do you think they are listening, now?" she asked. John punched up a
program on his laptop, plugging it into its cradle. He was quiet as he
worked.

"No, not yet. There are no emissions from the motor home at the present
time," he said.

"Well, I think we should turn in. I'm quite certain that I will enjoy
not having an audience," Sheila giggled.

"Me too," Catarina said.

"I'm quite certain we all feel that way.... Catarina?" he said.

"Yes, John?"

"How do you feel about what happened to you? I mean, you *seem* to
enjoy sex very much. But I could tell by your descriptions of the
parties and such that you felt a loathing for those people and what
they did," he said. Catarina was silent for a moment, formulating her
answer.

"I do loath them... and what they did. But I came to equate it with
what happened to my sister. When I saw that tattoo on Sergei, it
negated any attraction or pleasure I had experienced. I came to hate
sex. I did not enjoy it again until my first night with you two," she
said.

"Are we so different?" Sheila asked.

"Yes," Catarina said without hesitation, "You see... What those people
did.. it was hedonism. It was not love. It did not matter who their
partner was. It was no different than masturbation with a piece of
meat. That is what I felt like. A piece of meat. You two did not treat
me like that. I felt... special. Like I was a goddess. I have felt that
way *every* time we have made love... because that is what we are
doing; making *love*," she concluded.

"Well, besides John and the other girls in his life, I never felt more
like making love to anybody. You *are* special. I feel like I am making
love with a goddess," Sheila said.

"I must concur, those women who's pictures I showed you. They didn't
care who it was with them. It was like jacking off inside somebody. But
I knew you were different the first moment I laid eyes on you," John
said. Catarina blushed.

"I have never known a man like you before. Nor a woman like you,
Sheila. I could make love to either of you day and night for the rest
of my life and be the happiest woman on earth," she said, tears forming
again. John pulled her to him, kissing her. Her kiss was hungry and
deep. His hands began to remove her clothing. Sheila stepped in to
help, then removed her own.

They made the most tender love Catarina had ever known. Tears of joy
streaming down her cheeks as her body lay panting and glistening with
perspiration between them. Their fingers caressing her softly to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 84

The two agents spent a miserable night. One took his pocket knife and
sliced the deflated air bags from the car. They wrapped them around
them for warmth. A search of the car yielded little in the way of
survival gear. They only had a few clothes, mostly dirty. They put them
all on. They weren't too far from a public campground, but there was
nobody camped there. There was a little firewood stacked by one of the
camp sites, but it was wet. Besides, they had no matches. A road flare
from the trunk supplied fire for them. It took almost the whole flare
to get the damp wood started, then it smoked terribly. The men didn't
care. They were hungry and cold.

One went and sliced a leg off of the deer sitting where their
windshield had been. They skinned it and propped it over the fire to
roast. It took some time. They had no salt or seasonings. The meat was
gamy and tough. Perhaps tainted by the scent glands that hunters know
to cut off immediately. By the time they thought of the deer as food,
it was several hours after the crash.

They hauled the rear seat out of the car to the campground to give them
something warmer to sit on. As the fire wood ran out they were tempted
to burn it. Instead breaking green branches off of trees, which smoked
a lot, but burned. It was almost dawn when a highway patrolman came
upon the scene. He stopped his car and examined the wreck. He noticed
the missing air bags and rear seat. Stepping to his car, he honked the
horn. The agents came running as best they could with several pairs of
pants on. They looked down right comical.

"Boy, are we glad to see you," one said.

"I take it you got stranded here last night?" said the patrolman.

"Yeah, my cellular wouldn't work," he said.

"Yeah, they're not much good up here. Why didn't you stay with the
car?" the patrolman asked.

"Because of the stench," said the second agent. The patrolman looked at
the deer.

"What happened to the leg?" he asked.

"We had no food. So we ate it... tasted like shit," said the first
agent.

"Well, technically. That's poaching... but I guess you didn't wreck
your car on purpose just for a leg of venison. You were going pretty
fast when you hit it though. From the skid marks and the damage, I'd
say about eighty or ninety. You're damn lucky to be alive," said the
patrolman.

"I know, can we get warm in your car?" asked the second agent.

"Yeah, help me push this off the road first. Then I'll take you to a
phone," the patrolman said.

"You can't take us to where we can rent another car?" asked the first
agent.

"Nope. Nearest place for that is probably Evanston. I've got highway
between here and Heber to patrol," he said.

"Could we rent a car in Heber?" asked the second agent.

"Probably. Won't get there for a while yet. I've got a job to do," said
the patrolman.

"Isn't helping people who have been in a wreck your job too?" asked the
first agent, snidely. The patrolman turned to him, his anger rising.

"Listen, pal. I'd just as soon run you in. The speed you were traveling
when you hit that deer was way too excessive. You're going to get a
reckless driving charge anyway. Maybe a charge for killing the deer.
I'm still thinking about the poaching charge. Now, we're gonna go put
your fire out, then I'm gonna give you a ride to a phone. Until then
keep quiet."

He dropped them off at the gas station; closed still. The owner finally
responded to the highway patrolman's honking and let the two shivering
men inside to warm up. The patrolman used his radio -the highway patrol
having a repeater for the area- to request a tow truck. He graciously
requested one out of Evanston meet the agents at the gas station. The
station had no phone line.

"That's what we come up here to get away from," the owner of the
station informed them. It was almost ten o-clock before the tow truck
picked up a much warmer, and now well fed pair at the gas station. They
served hamburgers at the station. They made their way back to the
wreck. Notified by the highway patrol, DNR had come by and removed the
deer. They contributed the meat to various welfare programs when it was
worth saving. There was a ticket from the DNR stuck in the door jam to
match the one in the second agent's pocket.

The agents seethed as the tow truck driver hooked up and then made his
way methodically back the forty-five miles to Evanston. He stopped off
at a car rental place. Seeing their last car, the rental agent was
reluctant to rent to them, requiring extra insurance. Finally they
transferred their radio equipment from the wreck to the new rental.
They found a pay phone and called Sergei. He was seething himself.
Telling them that they had better find the motor home or they would be
spending time assigned to Siberia.

"I'll drive this time," the first agent said. The second agent
shrugged, but wouldn't let them leave town until he purchased twenty
dollars worth of hamburgers from a drive in and a warmer coat. The
first didn't argue.

Catarina stirred, it was early morning. Early considering how late they
had been up making love. It was almost eight o-clock. She gently kissed
the nipple next to her lips and then stretched like a cat. She could
feel love rushes sweep over her body. She was amazingly happy. Her
sister's freedom was the only thing keeping her from total bliss. The
thought drove her out of bed.

She used the bathroom, brushed her teeth and then showered. Sparingly,
remembering how John had done the dishes the night before. She got
herself wet and then turned off the water while she soaped, then rinsed
off and got out. John slipped in while she was soaping and relieved
himself. She met him as she stepped out.

"Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?" he asked. She moved to him
pulling the towel between them. Hugging him hard.

"Mmm, very well. And you?" she asked, trying to kiss him. He resisted,
indicating his tooth brush.

"Like a baby," he grinned.

"Well brush your teeth, because I want a proper kiss," she directed
him.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. He left the water off while he brushed, just
using it to rinse. She waited patiently, drying herself as best she
could in the small bathroom. When he was done, she pulled him into a
passionate kiss that lasted a long time.

"That was for last night, my love," she said. John put his finger to
his lips and she nodded. She stepped out to dress and Sheila stepped
in, also resisting her advance. "Let me know when you've brushed your
teeth," Catarina called after her. John stepped into the shower and
repeated Catarina's actions as Sheila used the toilet. Wishing for the
sound of running water. She settled for switching on a small exhaust
fan. John rinsed and stepped out to dry himself, giving Sheila a peck
on the cheek and sliding the door shut behind him. Catarina was almost
dressed, and watched John drying himself as she finished.

"You are a very lovely man," she said.

"Thank you, handsome is the term we use here," he said.

"You are that too, but I think the terms have slightly different
meanings. I meant what I said," she said. John put his finger to his
lips again and she nodded. He walked forward to his laptop and called
up a program.

"I wonder where our shadows have gotten off to? We are still clean," he
said.

"Then I reiterate, you are a very lovely man," Catarina said from the
doorway. He smiled at her and repeated his thanks. Then moved to the
bedroom to dress. She wouldn't let him pass until she had extracted a
minor toll in the form of another kiss. She watched him dressing a
moment and then turned to make some coffee.

John was sitting outside in a folding lawn chair, enjoying the morning
when the DNR truck pulled up. The ranger climbed out.

"Morning, sir. You camping long?" the ranger asked.

"Good morning to you. No, just last night, we'll be leaving today,"
John replied.

"Did you pay your campground fees?" asked the ranger.

"I bought a golden eagle pass, the sticker's on the bumper," John said.
The ranger looked and nodded, smiling.

"Nice day, huh?" the ranger asked.

"A *frabjous* day," John agreed.

The ranger nodded, "Louis Carroll?"

"Yes, a very good term," John said.

"Do any fishing this morning?" asked the ranger.

"No, I only had a one day permit, it expired last night. Caught a nice
lunker though," John said.

"Whereabouts?" the ranger asked.

"Up on the *Stillwater Fork*," John replied.

"Must be one of the last ones we planted last year. Monsters, they
were," said the ranger.

"Can I buy an extension from you?" asked John.

"No, they won't let us handle any money except campground fees,"
replied the ranger.

"Just a thought," said John. He glanced in the back of the ranger's
truck at the dead deer. "Road kill?" John asked.

"Yeah, couple of foreign assholes doing about eighty-five. Totaled
their rental car. Lucky they had air bags. They ended up being stranded
for the night, almost frozen when the Highway patrol came on them,"
replied the ranger. A thought occurred to John.

"A little gray rental?" he asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" asked the ranger.

"Oh, saw them up the meadows off the ranger station. A couple of jerks.
Just wondering if it was the same guys," John said.

"Sounds like them. The patrolman said they was giving him lip. Wanted
him to take them where they could rent another car to wreck. He dropped
them off at that Bear River gas station down the road from the ranger
station and called them a tow truck," said the ranger.

"That where they are now?" John asked.

"Probably in Evanston by now, or just picking up their car. Why?" asked
the ranger.

"Oh, just curious. Seems a shame that jerks like that can get away with
killing a deer," John said.

"Well, they got a reckless driving ticket from the HP and I left them a
citation for killing the deer. We could have nailed them for poaching,
cause they didn't have any food so they cut off the leg and ate it,"
chuckled the ranger.

"No food, so they didn't have any salt even?" John asked.

"I would suppose not," chuckled the ranger.

"I almost nailed a couple myself last night. But I know the area, so I
was taking it easy," John said. The ranger's eyes almost popped out of
his head when both Sheila and Catarina stepped out of the motor home
with their coffee cups. They were wearing body suits with leggings,
white terry shorts over the bottom halves.

"Kind of nippy for those outfits, isn't it?" asked the ranger, trying
not to drool. Sheila chuckled and walked up to him.

She handed her cup to John and said, "Here, feel this." pulling the
ranger's fingers up her sleeve.

"Well I'll be damned. I could use an outfit made of that stuff. How
does it work?" he asked.

"Stores heat as twist in the fiber. Untwists and gives off heat when
it's cold. I'll give you my card if the government wants to talk about
a contract, but we may be a little out of their price range. We'd sell
this for around a thousand bucks." Sheila giggled, giving the ranger
back his hand and retrieving her cup. She cringed at the sight of the
deer carcass.

"Those *jerks* from the campground last night, totaled their *rental*
car," John said. Sheila seemed to get it and nodded. Still sad over the
deer.

"Breakfast is ready," she told John.

"Well, you folks have a nice day. Nice rig you got here," the ranger
told John.

"Yeah, cost me enough," John said.

"I can imagine. See ya," the ranger said, climbing in his truck.
Catarina waved at him as he pulled away. He waved back.

"Well, guess that explains what happened to our shadow," John chuckled.

"Too bad about the deer. I wish there was some way to keep them off us
for one more night. I quite enjoyed myself last night," Sheila mused.

"I think I know just the place. Come on, let's eat. I want to be out of
here in twenty minutes," John said. John and the motor home were long
gone when the two agents passed *Soapstone* two hours later. Their
equipment uttered not a peep. They reached *Kamas* and took the new
*Peoa* cut off back towards the Interstate into Salt Lake City. They
made a side detour into *Park City* just in case they had gone there.
No sign of them. They continued on into Salt Lake City.

John was miles to the South, by *Deer Creek* reservoir, just pulling
into the sleepy farming valley of *Wallsburg*. He stopped at the
general store and picked up some provisions, filling his tanks while he
was at it. He struck up a conversation with the clerk while his tanks
were filling.

"Don't recall if it was *Big Canyon* or *Little Canyon* that had the
stream in it," he said.

"Little canyon.... but you couldn't get that rig up there. It turns
into four wheel territory about half a mile up," said the clerk.

"Yeah, I remember. I used to camp up there as a kid. Now I don't even
remember how to get there," John said.

"Just take Little canyon road. Go straight when you get to the Big
Canyon cut off. You could take that road okay, but there isn't any more
camping areas up here. Folks kind of soured over kids leaving beer cans
all over," said the clerk.

"Might make a nice drive. Thanks," John said. He topped off his tank
and paid his bill, the clerk happy over the large sale. John added four
five gallon plastic jugs that the store had for sale, filling them from
the hose and topping off the motor home's water tanks before heading
out. He took the turn and headed up the proper road, not taking the cut
off the clerk told him of. The road quickly narrowed as the clerk had
indicated and John remembered.

"You sure you know what you're doing? That looks pretty steep up
there," Sheila said, looking out the windshield. John grinned. He
reached a small turn out and stopped. He stepped out and unhitched the
compact car, backing it off the front wheel trailer. Then he left it
running and asked Sheila to follow him. She climbed in the compact and
he made the turn, jockeying back and forth to do it. He pulled down a
tiny dirt path and under some trees. Sheila pulled up beside him. After
jockeying the motor home back and forth a bit he was fairly level, he
let the automatics take care of the rest.

"I'll be back," he told the women.

"Where are you going?" Catarina asked.

"To negotiate with the owner to let us stay here. This is private
property," he said.

"Nice spot," Sheila said.

"Nice memories," John said, heading down the path. He passed through a
gate and came up to a small rugged looking house. Two dogs started
after him and John froze, just waiting. A man came out and called back
the dogs.

"Howdy," he said.

"Howdy. Sorry to intrude. Years ago I used to camp up here on your
property. I'd like to ask your permission to spend the night," John
asked.

"I don't know. Damn kids always leaving a mess. We don't usually let
folks camp anymore," said the man.

"I can understand that. I packed quite a bit of garbage out even back
then. We used to camp up here every year. A whole bunch of us," said
John.

"I remember those folks. Kind of a rowdy drinking bunch, but always
left the place cleaner than they found it," said the man.

"Yeah, that was us. I don't see those folks much anymore, and I
mellowed a bunch myself with age. Now I'm likely in bed by nine. I
promise that we'd respect your property and clean up after ourselves.
I'd make it worth your while if you'd allow me to pay you. There's just
myself, my wife and sister-in-law," said John.

"Well, if you're quiet and clean up, I guess one night wouldn't hurt.
Twenty bucks okay?" asked the man.

"That would be fine. Tell you what. I enjoyed it so much up here
before, and you never charged us. How about I make it fifty? I'm doing
pretty good financially and I'd like to make up for a few nights I'm
sure we kept you up," John said, fishing in his wallet.

"No need to do that," said the man.

"I know, I'd like to. Okay?" John said, handing the man the bill.

"Alright. I'm mainly letting you stay 'cause I remember you used to
clean up," said the man.

"You ever think of selling this place, you let me know. Here's where
you can contact me through," John said, scribbling his name on a card
from his lawyers.

"I just may do that. I was intending on leaving it to my kids, but
they'd rather have money, I think. You wouldn't bust it up?" the man
asked.

"Not a chance. I'd put that in writing," John said.

"I'll give it some thought. Don't have a price in mind yet," said the
man.

"Tell you what, you get it appraised, then add ten percent. I love it
up here," John said.

"Thanks, I'll give it some thought. Have a nice stay," said the man.

"Thanks. And thanks for letting us stay," John said.

"No problem. Don't mind responsible folks. You keep that fire down,
now. I remember you folks used to build some doozies," said the man.

"I promise. See ya," John said.

"Bye now," said the man. He watched John walk up the path. His dogs
growled a bit. "Hush up. Them's the kind of folk that's okay," he told
the dogs. "Fifty bucks, just for camping. Could have rented a luxury
motel room for that," he said to himself. The women had lunch almost
ready when John got back.

"We can stay?" Sheila asked. John nodded.

"Wonderful. This is a gorgeous spot. I love the sound of the stream,"
Catarina said.

"Around here, we'd call that a *brook*," John chuckled.

"So what is a stream?" she asked.

"Smaller than a river, larger than a creek. Or *crick* as they'd say
around here," John said.

"Interesting colloquialisms," Catarina said.

"Why do you think well be safe up here?" asked Sheila.

"Just a small dot on the map, off the main road. No through road.
Private property, no public campgrounds on any map. Shielded on both
sides by mountains, three sides really. The fourth direction is narrow
and sort of twisted. The mouth points the wrong way for radio," John
said.

"Showoff," Sheila said.

"You asked," John said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"And a lovely spot as well," Catarina said, looking out the open door.
The screen door was shut against flies and mosquitoes.

"I agree. I just made an offer on it," John said.

"You bought it?" Catarina asked.

"Not yet. I made a good offer," John said.

"How much?" Sheila asked.

"Don't know, I told him ten percent over appraisal," John said. Sheila
nodded.

"To have such money, must be nice," Catarina said, dropping her eyes.

"Sometimes.... Tell me about your dress shop," John said.

"I had to give it up, when I went to Russia," she said.

"But you ran a nice shop?" John asked.

"Oh yes, a very nice little shop. I had many repeat customers. I sold
many nice things... not so nice as the clothes you sell though. I think
the most expensive dress I ever sold was.... say three hundred dollars,
American," she said. Sheila looked at John, who grinned at her. She
caught his intention.

"So how would you feel about running a salon for us?" Sheila asked.
Catarina seemed taken aback.

"Oh, my. I would love to. But, I am not a citizen here. Could I?" she
asked.

"Sure, just obtain a work permit. Much easier if you already have a
sponsor, which is us," Sheila said.

"I think you'll find that it's covered under the Political Asylum
you've been offered," John said.

"Great, then it's settled, as soon as you are free to accept. Your
starting salary will be fifty thousand dollars a year," Sheila said.

"Oh, that is too much!" Catarina said.

"Nope. That's what we pay all our managers, to start. But I have bigger
things in mind for you," Sheila said.

"I think you are just being kind to me. You have already been too kind.
I cannot accept," Catarina said.

"Nothing of the sort. What I had in mind for you, was our European
directorship. We'd be hard pressed to find another with your language
skills. One that I could trust," Sheila said.

"Trust? Why would you trust me? The first night I met you I tried to
steal secret documents from you!" Catarina said.

"To save your sister's life and obtain her freedom! I have no idea what
I would do in the same situation. But I doubt I would do as well as
you," Sheila said.

"I failed!" Catarina said.

"Excuse me, but I think we should step outside for this discussion.
It's lovely over there by the brook. Not that I think that anybody is
listening, but let's not push our luck," John said, taking his coffee
cup. He unloaded the lawn chairs from a side compartment, setting them
up in the shade under a tree by the brook, next to a little gurgling
water fall. Inside the motor home, he turned on the stereo, just loud
enough that they could hear the music outside. The women brought soft
drinks with them. John continued the discussion where it left off.

"You failed at being a spy, which you never were. You were set up from
the very beginning. At great cost to yourself, both emotionally and
physically. I am quite thrilled you failed at being a spy," he said.

"But why on earth would you trust me?" Catarina asked. John looked at
her. She was sitting between them, just in arms reach. Suddenly his
fist shot out towards her face. It never reached its target. Catarina's
arm shot up and blocked the blow. She sat there stunned, looking at
him. John's arm ached from her block. Sheila sat there flabbergasted
that John would do such a thing, not realizing what had just
transpired.

"Because I am quite certain you were told to use whatever means were
required to fulfill your mission. You have just proven yourself capable
of that. I would have pulled my punch and would have felt incredibly
stupid and guilty had I actually hurt you. But a normal person could
not have blocked me so fast. You have had advanced martial arts
training. I have no doubt that you could kill either one of us had you
chosen to," John said. Catarina visibly shook from her trembling as
tears formed in her eyes.

"I could not do it. Not after I made love with you that night. I was
told to use it if you caught me. When you did catch me, it did not even
occur to me. I could never hurt either one of you... I do not know if I
could hurt anybody," she cried.

"How did you know?" Sheila asked.

"I suspected from the beginning, when I watched her move across the bar
where we met. Since then, I've noticed the way she moves several times.
That night in Evanston, she showed incredible restraint with that
cowboy. I was afraid she was going to break his arm. I'm quite sure she
could have. I intentionally put myself between her and the cowboy when
he turned with the bottle," John said.

"I wanted to break his arm. He was an asshole... but I had my own
*cowboy*, protecting me," Catarina said.

"How come I never notice stuff like that?" Sheila asked.

"I noticed, because I've had martial arts training. I'm familiar with
the way those folks move. I'd seen it lots before," John said. He could
see that Catarina was still trembling.

"I'm very sorry, Catarina. I could think of no better way to make my
point. I can see you are trembling from the shot of adrenaline that
your body gave you. I happen to know a very good cure for that... If
you will allow me the honor of remedying it?" John said, standing and
offering his hand. She smiled up at him and nodded, taking his hand,
shakily.

Later, they all napped, snuggled together. In the evening, they got up
and dressed. John made a foray into the nearby woods for some fire
wood. He had purchased several bundles from the general store as well.
He drug a large dry sapling back with him. He carried a small chain saw
in the motor home, but rather than make noise, he used a bow saw to
section the tree. He used the dry store bought wood to start a nice
little camp fire in an old fire circle. Wondering if they were the very
same rocks he had rested his feet on years before.

Sheila volunteered to make dinner. John didn't argue, much to her
surprise. The sun had descended behind the ridge and the temperature
began to drop a bit. Not so much as it had up higher in the Uinta
range, but still chilly. Light jackets of Second Skin manufacture were
donned by all. John sat sipping a beer. Enjoying the evening as the
fire crackled at his feet and the stars began to come out.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Catarina. John looked up from the fire.
The glow of it on her high cheek bones and forehead. She looked lovely.

"I was just thinking about previous nights around this same fire pit.
They could be the very same rocks I rested my feet on years ago," he
said.

"You camped here often?" she asked.

"At least once or twice a year. When I came back from California, I met
up with a very nice group of people. Serious drinking folks, though.
But some of the nicest people I ever knew. We'd camp out several
different spots. Each part of the crowd had their own favorite spot.
We'd alternate between them. This spot was a favorite of one of the
nicest couples," John said.

"You don't see them anymore?" Catarina asked.

"Haven't for years. I'd still consider them good friends though. We
sort of lost touch when I went on the road. I wasn't a very devoted
alcoholic anyway. God, those folks could drink," John chuckled. Sheila
came out and joined them while dinner was in the oven. Looking up at
the glorious sky, inhaling deeply.

"You know, it's places like this that make you want to never see
another city," she said.

"I know. I never did like cities too much. Except to visit. I quite
enjoyed San Francisco at times," he said.

"Some times, I agree. But not all the time," Sheila said.

"You know. The cities here are so different than those in Europe. Such
hostility in some places, but the people are very nice when you get
them one on one," Catarina said.

"I know. Not the Europe part, never been there yet. But I understand
what you mean about U.S. cities. I don't like the direction it's going.
You should enjoy Salt Lake City. It's quite clean and friendly as
cities go. It has it's rough and ugly spots, but I imagine that's true
for any large city," John said.

"It's true of every large city I've seen," said Sheila.

"That part is true about every city I have seen as well," Catarina
said.

"At one time I only thought that those areas existed because of
religious repression elsewhere. Like mankind needed a place to be
naughty. But I've since learned that every community has their
assholes. Those naughty places wouldn't be so bad without them," John
said.

"I quite agree, on both counts..... The stars are glorious here
tonight," Catarina said.

"Yes, they are. I've always enjoyed stargazing in the mountains....
kind of wished I had a guitar," John said.

"I didn't know you played," Sheila said.

"I used to be pretty good," John said.

"That part, I can believe... so what brought that up?" Sheila asked.

"Oh, just sitting under the stars around a campfire. The two seem to go
together with a guitar," John said.

"Did you play for your friends you used to camp here with?" Catarina
asked.

"Not much. With that crowd... They were kind of oblivious to live
music. They would hardly notice when a person finished one song and
went on to another. Kind of like the juke box had just changed tunes,"
John chuckled.

"Why would that be, I quite enjoy live music," Catarina said.

"Oh, I think people get so used to listening to popular music. Only the
best bands or musicians make it to the air. They get so used to hearing
a song that took weeks in a sixteen track studio, that live music
sounds a little rough to them. They expect every accomplished musician
to be able to sit down and play the same song the same way every time,"
John said.

"I know what you mean. In the sixties and seventies, there were street
musicians all over San Francisco. They started thinning out in the
eighties. Now you hardly see them," Sheila said.

"Yes, I think that's sad, too. I quite enjoy the charm of a solo
performer. One of the best times I ever had in San Francisco, was a big
electronics convention. A local supplier had bought a whole bar in
Ghiradelli square for the night and was serving free roast beef dinners
and free drinks to whomever walked in the door. The staff were so well
paid that they wouldn't even accept a tip! I figure that night cost
them a minimum of sixty thousand dollars," John said.

"Oh, at least I know that bar," Sheila said.

"Yeah, anyway, I came out of the bar to hail a cab and there was a
street musician there playing the blues on a little battery powered
amp. It was great. I don't really remember what he looked like, or what
he was playing, but I remember I enjoyed it immensely," John mused.

"Funny how little moments like that stick with you, years later,"
Sheila said.

"You two have given me a lifetime of moments like that," Catarina said,
softly. John looked at her and squoze her hand.

"We're not through yet, darling. We're not through yet," he replied.

"Count on that," Sheila added, taking her other hand. Catarina pulled
each hand to her mouth and kissed it softly. Her eyes misting a bit.
Wondering if she'd be able to keep this relationship. Time seemed to
vanish with their troubles as they held hands and looked at the stars
around the fire. It was another one of those moments Catarina would
always cherish.

Sheila finally gave Catarina's hand a final squeeze and released it,
saying: "I think dinner should be about ready."

* * *

"Where the hell could they be?" asked the first agent, "We've hit every
piss-pot on the map."

"Not all of them," said the second agent, studying the map.

"What are we going to do?" asked the first, "Sergei wants them found!"
The second rubbed his eyes.

"I'll tell you what were going to do: We're going to go get a room in
Salt Lake City and find a good steak and a beer. Then we're going to
get some decent rest," he said, folding the map.

"Are you nuts?" asked the first.

"No, that's why we're going to do that. What difference would it make?
She has to meet Sergei at one tomorrow. They have to come into town to
do that. The minute they hit the valley, we acquire them and get a fix
on them. By the time we found them tonight, all we'd hear would be the
cowboy's snoring while we spent another shit night. If you want to do
that, fine, but drop me at a motel in Salt Lake City," said the second.

"You have a point there.... and a good meal and a bed does sound good,"
said the first, heading towards town.

Sergei had reached much the same conclusion. He sat in a dive,
furnished apartment not far from Temple Square in Salt Lake City. The
building was old, but fairly clean. A damn sight cleaner than places
he'd spent the night in, in Moscow.

He sipped Stolichnaya vodka, savoring the flavor. Wondering why his
country exported its best vodka. Bianca's nude body lay inert, face
down on the bed as she slept. He surveyed her sleek backside as he
pondered the events of the past few days. A short while before he had
taken his pleasure on her incoherent form. This was not in his
thoughts.

"What's on your mind, Catarina?" he asked himself. "Has the charm the
cowboy used to convert his other operatives *turned* you? Would that be
so hard? With the way you have been treated? Can you still *feel,*
after all the degradation I saw to it that you experienced? What is it
you are planning? Are you thinking that you can fool me? You will not
find that so easy to do."

Sergei had controlled women all his life. From the time he was a
teenager, perhaps even as a child when he controlled his mother and two
sisters. Their father gone from the war, they doted over him as he
grew. With time Sergei turned this dotage to dominance. When he reached
puberty, it was not so hard to turn their affection to his advantage.
He took both his sisters as often as he liked. When their mother died,
they became his virtual slaves. He toyed with them, testing the limits
of their affection. He forced them to do unspeakable things to one
another. Along the way he learned a mental trick which could keep him
erect for hours. He used his sisters to develop the trait. Offering
small treats or concessions as prizes to the one who could trip him
over the edge of orgasm. They would try for hours and agree to all
manner of debauchery to win his praise and prizes.

He learned the limits of their endurance the day he found them dead by
their own hand. Wrapped together nude, laying on the bed. An empty
bottle of sleeping pills by their side. Sergei was revolted by their
weakness. He took his pleasure one last time on their lifeless forms
and then left, never to return. Both were pregnant from his incest. He
never learned of this, he wouldn't have cared anyway.

He joined the military. Hating it at first while they forged an adult
out of his gaunt muscles. His propensity for dominance eventually
emerging in the form of rank. A liaison with a captain's wife
contributed to his meteoric rise. His cunning leading him into
intelligence, where again his quest for dominance turned into an asset.
By the time he was twenty five, he was a captain himself.

Information extracted from a French general's wife led to his further
advancement. Eventually he was assigned control over espionage
activities in Europe. He began to build a network of enslaved agents,
mostly women. Using blackmail, extortion and coercion with drugs he
enslaved dozens of women to his needs. They returned results that made
his superiors turn a blind eye to his methods. That had been years ago.
Now he had *known* hundreds of women personally. Perhaps more than a
thousand. No, Sergei was no stranger to the controlling of women.

Yet this Cowboy worried him. He also seemed to have a great deal of
control over women, but his control was different. His women *smiled*!
They seemed to want to be slaves to his affection. Sergei could not
comprehend how this could be. The first two young women he thought he
understood, from his experience with his sisters. His personal interest
had been piqued when Sheila and the rest had arrived. Now he sported a
virtual harem of devoted women. All of them seemingly ecstatically
happy.

He took enough interest that he took the extremely dangerous step of
actually observing him first hand. He was well aware that any number of
NATO nations would have loved to get their hands on him. He thought
himself clever enough to avoid detection. Passing through customs in
Atlanta with a drugged girl at his side. Whenever questions were put to
her, he would explain that she didn't speak the language. Her
incomprehension helped foster this explanation.

He'd left her under the watchful eye of his assistants, in a motel in
Myrtle Beach South Carolina, with instructions to keep her on the edge
of coherency while he went to observe the Cowboy in a bar. He sent one
of his best teams of women to discover what they could about him and
his travels. They had never worked as a team before, but this didn't
seem to affect their performance. They didn't bat an eye when he
instructed them to pose as bisexuals. Normally, he used them singly to
obtain financial information from the many business men who visited the
Cayman Islands. He held each in his grip by control of large bank
accounts he was supposed to be managing for them. Money neither one
would see. They mostly thought of it as a game. Each task leading to a
larger mythical balance in their accounts. They were quite good at
extracting information from men.

Sergei watched them, and the Cowboy at work that night. He listened
attentively to every word and action. Cowboy was a very smooth
operator. Seemingly indifferent, not to their advances, but to the
outcome of them. He was attentive and flattering, but not to the degree
of showing need. He simply acted like he enjoyed their company and
affections. Taking their seeming bisexual actions as if they were quite
natural. In fact, later, he encouraged and educated them where they
lacked specific knowledge.

The result had startled Sergei. While they had adroitly obtained and
delivered the contents of the cowboy's safe, the next day he had
discovered them wrapped around each other in the throes of a real
bisexual exploration. He had attempted to join in. They were
*indifferent* to *his* actions. Even repulsed by him. They were useless
to Sergei any longer. He sent them back to the Cayman Islands. Making a
last visit to them, he left them each with several large heroin
suppositories inserted. Taking them after they expired, as he had his
sisters.

Now he observed the sleeping form of Bianca. He had the same eventual
intention in mind for her and her sister, after he extracted an
extremely valuable bit of information that he was certain Catarina held
the key to. "No, Catarina. You are too valuable a prize to let slip
away from me now," he said to himself as he removed his robe and
started towards her sister again.

She hardly noticed when he entered her. Another opium suppository
numbing her body. He only had one more with him, more could be easily
obtained, but one more would suffice through the meeting the next day.

* * *

After dinner, John had strung a large, rope hammock between two trees,
sideways to the fire. All three of them lay in it, gazing at the stars,
slowly swinging back and forth to the sound of the gurgling brook. The
women were snuggled to either side of him. From time to time they would
kiss or caress one another. John's hands rested just beneath their
breasts on either side. His mind was on something else.

"John?" Catarina said.

"Yes, love," he replied.

"Do you think my sister will be alright?" she asked.

"I think so. I'm going to do my best to make it so. Don't worry,
there's a lot of good people working on your side," he said. She kind
of shivered and snuggled to him. "Why don't you two go snuggle in the
bed," he suggested.

"You aren't coming?" Sheila asked.

"Not for a while yet. I have some thinking to do. Don't be alarmed if
you hear the car. I'm just going to the mouth of the valley to upload a
message or two," he said.

"Don't be too late. You know we have an early morning," Sheila told
him.

"I won't. Have a nice snuggle," he said.

"I was hoping to snuggle to you, too," Catarina said.

"I won't be long. About an hour and a half," John said.

"Okay... be careful," Sheila said. They both kissed him deeply before
they retired. John snagged his laptop and sitting by the fire, by the
light of a camp lantern he typed several messages. One to Howdy, and
one each to Theresa, Sally and Cindy and Kevin at the silo. He climbed
in the compact and drove to the mouth of the valley as he said. He left
his cellular on and when it acquired, he stopped and uploaded the
messages. A response came back almost instantly from Howdy,
acknowledging his transmission and promising his response. Next came a
joint message from Cindy and Kevin. Last came a response from Theresa,
at school. When he didn't receive a confirmation from Sally for twenty
minutes, he used his cellular to dial hers. Finally a sleepy voice came
on the line.

"Sally?" he asked.

"No, this is Jean. Is that John?" Jean asked.

"Yes, where's Sally?" he asked.

"Sally's asleep with our host in the other room," Jean said, "I just
happened to get up to use the bathroom and heard her cellular."

"I forgot the weekend was coming. Ah, I sent a message to Sally's E-
mail. Does she have her laptop with her?" John asked.

"Yes. You told her to always carry it. She does," Jean replied.

"Good. Could you wake her up and have her read it?" he asked.

"I guess so, what's up?" she said.

"I'd rather she read the message... I don't like *phones*," John said.

"Alright. Do you want to hang on?" she asked.

"No, have her reply by E-mail," John said.

"Okay.... is everything alright?" Jean asked.

"Should be. Just have her read the message," John said.

"Alright. I love you," she said.

"I love you too. Kiss Sally and your host for me. I've got to go now.
Bye," he said.

"I will. Bye," she responded. About ten minutes latter, Sally's reply
came over his laptop; wishing for a further explanation, but promising
her compliance. Satisfied he had done all he could, John drove back to
the camp, banked the fire and slipped into bed with the two lovelies.

"Everything alright?" Sheila asked.

"Yes, everything should be fine now," he responded. She snuggled to him
and he kissed her, rolling her onto him. Catarina stirred and joined
in. By dawn Howdy had a squad of men stationed around the silo and
extra agents on both Theresa and Sally, watching the grounds of the
actresses estate. Luckily, Candice, Judy and Mae were at the silo.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 85

Catarina stirred first to the sound of birds singing their morning
song. John and Sheila's warm bodies snuggled to her side. Aware that it
might be her last time with them, she set about waking them, using her
warm mouth and fingers between them to initiate their response. She was
well rewarded for her actions.

Some two hours later, they broke camp. Policing the area first. They
personally had scattered nothing, but they packed up some cans and
garbage that some teenagers had left. John left a note of thanks on the
owner's gate with another fifty dollars in it. He had made his final
instructions to Catarina as they broke camp. She had been complacent
when he had her insert the locator suppository that Howdy had supplied
her. She carried a capsule that would serve the same purpose for her
sister. She would hide it in her mouth when she met Sergei.

John had her practice talking with it tucked in her cheek. If she got
the chance, she would try to pass it to her sister with instructions to
swallow it. John made her swallow her own, besides the protection of
the suppository. Each contained a powerful chemical battery. Once a
special signal was received, they would emit a burst of apparently
random noise, several times an hour. To all but the most sophisticated
computer analysis, it would alternately appear as characteristic noise
of either an appliance, or a car ignition. Once initiated, they would
last seventy-two hours.

His instructions to Theresa and Sally had been to take similar
precautions. Sally and Jean were to remain on the actresses estate and
Theresa in her apartment until Kevin came to take her to the silo. John
had reasoned that Sergei, if he suspected a double cross, or that he
had lost Catarina, would try to get at him personally. The most
effective way to do that, was to get at the ones he loved. Those at the
silo were fairly secure, but not totally. Their biggest protection came
from the fact that Sergei thought it was a real biological or chemical
weapons lab. Had it been, security would have been *very* tight and
fortifications very hard to penetrate. Thus, those outside; Theresa or
Sally, as the others were all at the silo.

John didn't like it a damn bit, but his precautions were the best he
could do in the situation he was in. He would be very happy when it was
all over with and he could go back to the relative normalcy of living
with... -what was shaping up to be- a dozen women. The absurdity of the
thought was downright humorous, if John had been in a humorous mood.

His stoic attitude when he was preparing to go meet Nick, was nothing
like he felt at the moment. Nick had been an untrained, ignorant
asshole. Sergei was a very well trained, very well educated asshole. He
forced himself to keep his mood light for Catarina's sake. Sheila knew
him better than that. She fought to keep her own resultant pensiveness
hidden.

Catarina seemed calm as they took the drive out of the valley. The
compact once again hitched to its carrier. John passed through the
center of the small community, past a large, shallow pond that served
as the public park and swimming hole for the kids and then past the
general store gas station and out of town. After a few miles of highway
bordered by farms, he came to the main highway.

Traffic was much heavier, it now being the weekend. Lines of utility
vehicles towing fishing boats passed by on the way to the Deer Creek
reservoir loading ramp. When a gap appeared John gunned the big engine
and swung into the traffic stream, heading down Provo canyon. A short
while later he passed by the cut off of the other road they might have
taken the previous evening. He shivered thinking of taking the motor
home over the Alpine loop. Lots of hard hairpins and narrow road. They
could have made it as far as Sundance ski resort. The rest of the way
it was not uncommon for compact cars to have to pull over to let
another pass from the other direction.

With the traffic, the drive down the canyon was slow, but hair raising.
Smaller cars trying to zip around slower traffic, gaining one car
length's position in life and making knuckles white on both sides of
the highway. The respectable sized Provo river paralleling their
journey. When he reached Bridal Veil falls he pulled over out of
traffic. For one reason to share its splendor with both Sheila and
Catarina. A long thin cascade of water, many hundreds of feet high. He
checked his laptop and then turned to Catarina.

"This is the last chance we will have before we're bound to be
monitored. I just wanted to show you how much I've come to care for you
in the short while we've been together," he said. She smiled at him and
moved into his arms. Their kiss lasted a long, long time. Followed by
Sheila's, which lasted even longer. Shaky, but content, Catarina
reached for a seat when she was finally released.

"Okay, that... said. Any questions?" John asked.

"No, I think I've got it all," Catarina said.

"Well, best of luck to you. Remember, a lot of good people are behind
you. Both physically, and in our hearts. I love you very much," John
said.

"And I as well," Sheila added.

"And I love you both, more than I ever loved anybody before. No matter
how it works out, I will always treasure these few days," Catarina
said, tears forming.

"Well, enough of the mushy stuff, lets get'er did," John said,
returning to the driver's seat.

* * *

Sergei ate a leisurely breakfast an aide had brought him, making
certain that Bianca ate some. She was moody and depressed. That would
change soon enough.

"Why do you keep me like this?" she managed to ask.

"Like what?" Sergei asked, taking a bite of a bagel.

"Drugged up," she said. Sergei followed his bite with a sip of coffee
before answering.

"I'm quite certain you remember what it was like when I couldn't find
any for you," he said. Bianca kind of shivered and nodded. Her body
already beginning to crave more of the drug.

"How long will this last?" she asked.

"Just a short time longer. I have been arranging for a cure for you.
Our scientists have found a blocking agent that alleviates the
withdrawal symptoms. It was too experimental to use on you before. But
cheer up. You will get to see your sister today," Sergei said. Bianca
looked up at him sharply.

"Catarina is here?"

Sergei nodded, but said, "She will be soon. She arranged to meet me
this afternoon."

"And what have you got her *doing* for you?" Bianca asked suspiciously.

"Why, nothing. In fact in the past week, she has been having a lovely
time. Traveling with a rich man and beautiful woman, making love to her
heart's content," Sergei said, innocently.

"Who?" she asked.

"You would remember him. From the tapes we all had so much fun
watching," Sergei chuckled. Bianca shivered.

"The man you call *cowboy*?" she asked.

"I told you not to call him that. His name is John. John Stevens,"
Sergei replied.

"And the woman?" she asked.

"Sheila Jacobs. The big breasted older blonde from the tapes," he said.
Bianca looked at him with more than suspicion. She well knew he was up
to something. He always was.

"What is she *really* doing with them?" she asked.

"Just as I said. Would you like to hear a tape of one of their love
sessions? I found it quite erotic... in fact. The very thought of it
makes me want a little something to start the day off right with,"
Sergei said, opening his robe. Bianca looked at him in revulsion.

"I am really not in the mood, Sergei," she said, bravely, knowing what
was to come.

"Oh, but I think you are. It is so little a price to pay, is it not?"
he said, producing the last suppository for her gaze. The look in her
eyes changed subtlety, and Sergei knew she was his. A slave to his
every whim. She dropped her eyes to the table, sighing. Tears forming
in her eyes as she sank to her knees before him. "That's my girl," he
half moaned.

Later, she was complacent when he led her back to the bed. He used her
to his heart's content. Keeping the suppository in sight, but out of
her grasp. He knew her in every way. Enjoying her anguished whimpers of
pain. Only when she was beyond caring did he flip her over and
teasingly insert the suppository. Indulging himself as he kneaded and
played with her cheeks while it dissolved. After a time she kind of
giggled. Sergei rolled her over. Her eyes were glazed and distant. Then
came his real fun.

He took her roughly for a time, squeezing her breasts hard. Undoubtedly
leaving bruises. He brought himself to the edge, and then he changed.
Using her to practice his mind trick. Making long slow strokes for
almost an hour. Had she been able to feel or care, she might even have
enjoyed that part. When he was dripping sweat all over her, he changed
again. Driving hard and fast for another twenty minutes before he began
slamming viciously into her. This lasted fully another five minutes.
Finally he groaned and shuddered atop her. She was beyond noticing.
Sergei collapsed upon her and stayed that way.

"I will *never* let you go," he said to himself. Bianca was oblivious
to his words.

* * *

As John crested the ridge at the point of the mountain coming into the
Salt Lake Valley from the South, his laptop beeped once. The women
looked at him and he moved his finger to his lips. They nodded.

"Hey, shit head. Wake up, we're rolling," said the first agent.

"You acquired signal?" asked the second agent, groggily.

"Yeah, from the South. Must have been camped in one of those spots we
didn't think they would go to," said the first.

"Wasn't any place up there for them *to* camp at, except the Sundance
parking lot and we checked it. You saw that god awful road heading out
of it. I was lucky to get turned around in a car," said the second,
pulling his pants on.

"Whatever. Maybe they teleported. It doesn't matter. We're on them,"
said the first.

"Yeah, yeah. Any coffee?" asked the second.

"You can get a cup at the corner," said the first.

"Where are they?" asked the second.

"First words I heard was Cowboy answering Catarina's question about
what the prison was. So way at the South end of the valley. Probably on
I-15. That would put them here in about fifteen minutes," said the
first.

"Not if they're working on that damn freeway again today. We could sit
down for a slow breakfast. Maybe take in a round of golf, " the second
chuckled, pulling on his shoes.

"It's Saturday. No roadwork. Come on, let's move," said the first.

"You sure got a hard-on for pleasing Sergei," said the second, grabbing
his few things and stuffing them in an overnight case.

"I seem to recall a little blonde baby girl it was you who had a hard-
on for," said the first.

"She is sixteen," snapped the second.

"Close enough to a baby, and you won't nail her fucking around here,"
said the first, packing up the last of the equipment.

"So, let's move then," said the second, heading out the door with his
bag. The first picked up the equipment and made a quick visual survey
of the double bedded room for any of his few socks. Seeing nothing he
headed for the car. They didn't bother turning the key in. They snagged
two cups of coffee at the corner gas station mini-store and staged on
the on-ramp while they sipped at them. The instant the motor home
passed, the first agent gunned the gas and slipped into traffic behind
them.

"I am sure going to miss you folks. I had a good time," Catarina said,
easily.

"Yeah, it was fun. Too bad we're going separate directions from here.
Sure you won't change your mind?" John asked.

"No, I promised my friend I would meet her in Barstow California in two
days," Catarina said.

"A shame. Perhaps you will both be coming back this way? You've got our
number. The more the merrier," Sheila said.

"Perhaps we will. I can not say. I do not know what she has in mind for
me," Catarina said.

"Oh, I could guess that part pretty easily," John chuckled.

"Me too," Sheila giggled. She tickled Catarina's side and she laughed.

"Where you want off?" John asked.

"The best place to rent a car," Catarina said.

"That would be the airport. Works for us..... that's about a half hour
away if you two would like to climb into the back," John chuckled.

"You horny old fart... I would love to, but I have a long drive ahead
of me. You did *not* let me get much sleep last night. I would not dare
drive," Catarina said.

"Can I help it if the sight of two women getting it on stokes my
boiler?" John laughed.

"I recall you did some *stoking* of your own.... Really, I had a very
nice time with you folks. I might make a point of coming back this
way," Catarina said.

"She's sure feeding them a line of shit today. Maybe she will deliver,"
said the first agent.

"Maybe," said the second, listening to the banter in the motor home.

"Well, we have acquisition and a destination. Better give Sergei a
call," said the first agent.

"If they take the cut off ahead," said the second.

"Suit yourself," said the first. The motor home peeled off at the I-215
ramp. The second agent dialed Sergei's cellular from his own. Sergei
was in the middle of a nightmare. His sisters had him tied to a bed and
had cut his wrists. They were arguing at the foot of the bed who would
have the first shot at him when he expired. Great pools of blood soaked
the sheet on either side of him. He was helpless to stop them. The
ringing of his cellular phone brought him awake in a cold sweat. Bianca
still slumbered next to him.

"What?" he answered angrily.

"I have located one of those recreation vehicles you were interested
in," said the voice.

"Where?" he said.

"You could probably see it at the airport in about a half hour if you
were interested," said the second agent.

"Excellent, I may do that. And the disposition of the goods?" Sergei
asked.

"I think we could wrap up the whole package for a reasonable price,"
said the agent.

"You'll get it. Go for it," Sergei said.

"Thank you. We will. Bye," said the agent, signing off.

"I don't like the sound of that," Howdy said. Almost as soon as the
agents had acquired John, Howdy's men had acquired the Russians. Using
two very sophisticated vans on loan from the FCC. Using a computer
link, they could triangulate the position of a transmitter in about
three tenths of a second. Once locked, it would instantly notice any
other emissions from the source location. The cellular phone had been
tagged right away.

"Where do you think they'll make their move?" asked an agent.

"At the airport. I think we should have a little reception committee
waiting for them right after John passes," Bill said.

"Can do. The highway patrol promised complete cooperation. It looks
good on their record," chuckled the agent, making his own cellular
call.

"They pull this off right, I can promise them a Presidential citation,"
Howdy mused. The agent nodded as the connection was made.

"We're on," said the second agent, digging out a bag.

"Outstanding! I'm going to enjoy popping that yo-yo," said the first.

"Only if we can't secure the bitch and her package any other way," said
the second, opening the bags and removing parts which at the moment
didn't resemble the deadly weapons they were.

"Well, I couldn't think of any other way," mocked the first.

"Well you'd better start. If you fuck this up for me, I'll shoot you
myself," said the second, assembling the weapons.

"Once we secure the package, Sergei won't give a fuck what we do," said
the first.

"That's true enough. But let's secure the fucker first. And he said
under no circumstances should we harm Catarina," said the second.

"Pity, I'd love to pop her too," said the first.

John's cellular phone rang. Sheila answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm a wrong number. Read your mail. *click*," she heard.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number. There's nobody here by the name
of *Bill*," she said, ending the call. "Damn wrong numbers, wonder how
much that one will cost us?" Sheila said, moving to the sink and
turning it on. She turned to the lap top and punched in her code.
Retrieving the message. She de-scrambled it and read it, then carried
the lap top forward for John to read. He glanced at the display.

*When you reach the airport, DO NOT STOP until you reach the United
Terminal on the far side. You will be met. Stay low and give us time to
get the ants off your back. They have instructions concerning YOU.*
John nodded and returned his eyes to the road. Sheila wiped the message
and turned off the water.

"Honey, I'm feeling kind of dry. Why don't you mix me up a drink. That
special one, what was it called? The *python*?" John asked.

"Shouldn't drink and drive... especially in this state. But I guess it
won't matter. We can get some lunch at a restaurant in the airport,"
Sheila said, moving to a hidden compartment and opening it.

"That's right, asshole. Make yourself nice and slow," said the first
agent.

Sheila clinked around with an ice tray and turned on the sink, breaking
open the .357 and checking it. She reached into the compartment and
pulled out another cartridge, inserting it into the empty chamber. She
quietly closed the weapon and gently lowered the hammer to half-cock
safety. Clinking a glass of ice water, she moved forward and slipped
the weapon onto the center console where John could easily reach it.
Signaling him with a thumb and a whole hand he had six rounds. John
nodded and smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up. Then he pointed at
the two of them and motioned towards the bedroom in the rear. Catarina
caught it.

"You know, an hour or two will not matter much. I was thinking about
that offer you made... Why don't you and I slip into the back like John
suggested," she said, looking scared.

"That sounds like a lovely idea. Once he finds a parking place for this
beast, maybe he'll join us," Sheila said, taking Catarina by the hand
and leading her into the back.

"Perfect. Maybe after we pop the cowboy we can pop his lady while the
bitch watches," said the first agent.

"No time for that kind of shit," said the second.

"Pity, she had a nice set of tits," said the first.

"So you can look at them on the way out the door," said the second.

"By then she'll have an extra hole in them," chuckled the first.

The highway patrol was already at the other end of the airport,
directing outgoing traffic North out of the airport when John took the
exit inbound. Two unmarked cars sat at opposite ends of a wide
observation area on the road into the airport. As soon as John and his
tail passed by, the first burned rubber backing behind them, blocking
further traffic into the airport. As soon as John passed, the second
attempted to do the same and cut off the tail. It stalled halfway out.

"What the fuck?" cried the first agent.

"It's a setup!... Hit it! We make the hit and get the fuck out of
here!" screamed the second. The first stomped the gas pedal, grazing
the second police car and careening past it. Now gaining speed on John.
John saw the missed attempt at the cut off in the mirror and gunned the
motor home.

"He's onto us," said the first agent, "better warn Sergei." The second
grabbed his cellular and hit a speed dial button.

"Outgoing call on target," said an agent in the FCC control van.

"Block it!" Bill said.

"Number already dialed, but I can dead carrier it," said the agent,
moving to do it.

"Do it!" Howdy said.

"Done," said the agent.

"Can you drop the cell site?" Bill asked.

"It would only re-acquire on a second site. Better as it is," said the
agent.

"Don't let a word through then," Bill said, nervously.

"I won't... ringing," said the agent.

"Can you acquire azimuth on second phone?" Bill asked.

"As soon as it answers," said the agent.

Sergei was dressed and attempting to get a drugged Bianca into her
clothes and coherent enough to walk when his cellular rang. He was
expecting a call, but not this soon. He answered it and got dead
silence.

"Got him... First and Third East. About one fifteen South," said the
agent.

"Can you kill it now?" asked Bill.

"Not without letting sound through," said the agent.

"Then let it be," Howdy said. Sergei looked at his phone puzzled, and
then shrugged and shut it.

"Connection broken on receive end," the agent said.

"Shut down the sending phone then. Turn the fucker off," Bill said.

"Done. It's dead as far as the cell sites are concerned," said the
agent. Airport security now had all the exits from the terminal
blocked. Confused crowds backing up behind the doors. Others were
keeping people in the parking plaza. Those at the curb were being
called inside. John rounded the bend in front of the airport doing
fifty. Doing his best to dodge the tail end of the passengers ignoring
the calls from the security guards.

Laying on the horn, he just missed one and did send his luggage flying.
The startled passenger jumped out of the way and turned as a second car
came speeding past. Seeing this, the other passengers in the loading
zone all dove for the curb just before John passed them. He passed by
two sections until he came to the *United Airlines* terminal. Seeing a
group of police at the end he aimed for the curb and laid on the
brakes. The compact behind him attempted to jack knife and the hitch
let go.

The compact -now free and pilotless- jumped the curb and headed for the
police, who scattered in its path.

"Fucking phone's down!" shouted the second agent.

"Forget it. We go!" shouted the first. He skidded to a halt just in
front of the motor home and the two men jumped out with their weapons.

"On the floor, driver's side!" shouted John back to the women as he
grabbed the Python and headed toward the rear. The second Russian agent
laid down a burst of fire to keep the police down as the first rounded
the corner and made for the door of the motor home. The sound of
automatic weapons was answered by screams of panic and bedlam erupting
inside the terminal. Half the passengers surged backwards as the other
half surged forwards to see what it was all about. Those in the middle
trying to protect themselves from two directions at once.

The first agent found the handle of the motor home and twisted the
handle. It was locked. He took a step back and fired a burst into the
handle, which was replaced by a ragged hole. He reached into the hole
and yanked the door open. John had just rounded the corner into the
bedroom. Seeing the women cowering against the bed where he told them
to be, he spun just as the first agent came. John's hand began to rise
with his weapon, pulling the hammer his back with his thumb.

The months of practice he'd spent practicing at the silo triggered
John's automatic actions. His weapon came up as the first agent began a
burst of fire in his direction. It splintered the wood in front of John
the moment the Python cracked loudly. Then there was silence from the
first agent -falling- a neat little hole smack dab between his eyes and
a yucky *Technicolor* mess all over behind him.

Outside the police recovered sufficiently to return fire. Most had
never fired their weapons on duty, but a full-auto barrage at them
removed any trepidation they might have felt. About seven weapons
boomed in staccato and the second gunman tried to spin in multiple
directions simultaneously as four 9mm slugs tore through him. He sagged
and fell against the curb.

"Fuck!" he said, "Now I'll never get that blonde." Then there was
silence. Several of the more seasoned officers recovered and tumbled
towards the scene. One kicked the odd looking weapon away from the
second agent while two more staged on either side of the motor home
door. One nodded to the other and the second quickly stuck his head in
to find the black hole at the end of a Python looking him between the
eyes from a prone man laying in the doorway at the rear.

He yanked his head back and screamed, "POLICE OFFICER, LAY DOWN YOUR
WEAPON!"

"It's down. If I hadn't seen your badge you'd look like that other
fucker," came the shaky reply. The officer was a bit more hesitant this
time as he slowly peeked inside once more. John lay face down with his
hands fully visible. His weapon well in front of him, out of reach. He
was shaking. The officer bounded inside and kicked the weapon away from
John, who made not a suspicious move. More poured into the door. The
first officer cautiously stuck his head around the corner and found two
women's heads peeking from behind the bed.

"Put your hands where I can see them!" he shouted at the women. Sheila
and Catarina shakily complied.

"We're the ones you're supposed to be protecting, idiot!" John said
into the carpet.

"We'll sort that out when I'm sure it's secure," said the officer,
moving to the side and covering the women while he stuck his head into
the bath to check it. "Clear!" he called. Then there were cops all
over. Once they let John produce his identification -while covered by
four guns- John became the hero of the day.

"Nailed the son of a bitch right between the eyes!" one cop was heard
telling another. John sat on the curb shaking, a bottle of 20 year old
Laphroaig scotch in his hand. Catarina and Sheila leaning against
either side of him, in a daze, also shaking.

A gung-ho rookie came up and said, "Excuse me, sir. You can't have an
open alcoholic container in a public place." John rolled his eyes to
look at him just as a veteran sergeant snagged the rookie.

"Leave him be, son. He's alright. Go see to that crowd. And keep them
reporters away," he said. The rookie looked at him in question, but did
as he was ordered. The sergeant entered the motor home and returned
with three glasses.

"Better for the reporters," he said, stooping in front of John and
snagging the bottle from John. He set the glasses down and poured three
hefty shots into them. He handed one to John, who took it
indifferently. "Good stuff," the sergeant said, handing the other two
glasses to the women. They took them, without interest at the moment.
The sergeant stood with the bottle and looked down at John.

"First time?" he asked. John looked at him and nodded, wearily. The
sergeant nodded and took the bottle back into the motor home. The
detectives started climbing on his shit about it being a crime scene
and he spun on them. "Listen assholes, that guy out there just nailed
this fucker cold and undoubtedly saved both women's lives and his own.
Not to mention that if he hadn't, this guy would have been shooting at
*us* next, to get away. Now let him have his fucking drink!" he spat at
them. He walked back out and John was looking at the motor home.

"I didn't know a head would blow up like that," he said.

"Hollow points do that. They expand after they enter. Probably a good
thing you had one. I've seen guys get nailed in the head and keep on
coming," said the sergeant.

"Hollow point?" John asked, confused. "I had it loaded with 38
specials."

"Never saw a *special* do that," the sergeant replied.

"Must have been that last one I loaded," Sheila said. John nodded.

"Yeah, I had a box of hollow points in the cabinet," he said, looking
at the ground.

"For what it's worth... It gets a little easier with time," said the
sergeant. John took a deep breath and let it out slow.

"I'm not sorry I did it. He was hell bent on doing it to all of us...
But I don't like taking a life," he said.

"Yeah, I know... Anybody I can call for you?" asked the sergeant.

"Should be on his way," John said. Just then a detective stuck his head
out the door of the motor home.

"Hey, your computer is beeping. How do I shut it off?" he asked. John
sighed.

"That's probably him now," he said, "I'll get it, you need a special
code." He hugged the women momentarily and got wearily to his feet.
Heading for the motor home.

"What kind of computer is that? I never saw one like it before," said
the detective.

"Government issue. Please. This is confidential. I can't let you see,"
John said.

"Now just a minute. I'm in charge here. I'll decide what I see and what
I don't," said the detective, indignantly.

John flipped him his government ID and said, "Not anymore you're not!
And the balls to back this up are one the way here with the local head
of the FBI. In fact you *all* better clear out." They stood looking at
him. "NOW! or heads will roll tomorrow!" John said, turning to his
laptop. The detectives looked at each other and then filed out. The
sergeant, who had witnessed it all, chuckled to himself. Whoever this
guy was, they certainly didn't want to be fucking with him. John called
in his E-mail and de-scrambled it.

"Cavalry on way, ETA 5 min. Sorry bout the mess. Bill." John wiped the
screen and shut down the laptop. He didn't look at the mess as he
exited and pushed the door shut. He walked back to the curb and sat
down again between Sheila and Catarina. Within 5 minutes the place was
crawling with federal agents. Howdy greeted them. He stuck his head
into the motor home and looked around then came back shaking his head.

"You were right. Sergei was suspicious and tried to hit you," he said.

"I'm sorry I fucked it up," John said.

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked.

"I screwed up the drop. When I stayed incommunicado last night he got
suspicious," John said.

"On the contrary. You nailed his ass to the wall. He's in jail right
now. We picked him up as soon as this shit started," Howdy said.

Catarina looked up startled, "My sister?" she asked, worried.

"In the hospital. Starting her recovery from the drugs he had her on,"
he said. Catarina launched herself at him and hugged him fiercely,
tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, THANK YOU!" she said, and kissed him.

"On what charge?" John asked.

"Conspiracy to commit murder, Conspiracy to commit espionage,
kidnapping, trafficking in drugs, resisting arrest and assaulting a
federal officer," Howdy said, when Catarina finally released him. John
was next on her hit list. "You said she was a hot one," Howdy chuckled.

"So it's over," John said, holding Catarina's embrace to calm her a
bit.

"Yup. Done deal. No snags. Took out several dozen agents elsewhere
too," Howdy said.

"Sally?" John asked.

"Safe and secure. Nailed six agents moving in on the actress' estate.
Clean take down. No bodies," Bill said.

"Theresa?" John asked, now very concerned. Howdy sighed.

"Okay. Shaken up a bit. Kevin took down two before he took a shoulder
hit. Our agents took the rest down."

"The silo?" John asked.

"Never approached," Bill said.

"So we're out of the spy business?" Sheila asked.

"Yup. And heroes to boot," Howdy said.

"Outstanding!" she said, hugging John.

"When can I go home?" John asked.

"If you'll just follow me back to the command vehicle, we'll tape your
statements. Then there's a fairly reputable helicopter service across
the airport. Your *personal* pilot will be down for a while," Bill
said.

"Kevin's okay?" John asked.

"Yeah, took it clean through muscle. No bone. Should be up and around
in a week and stiff for six to nine months," Howdy said as they walked.
Catarina and Sheila on either side of him. Oblivious to news cameras
rolling around them. Tears of joy running down Catarina's cheeks. Tears
of relief running down Sheila's. Without thought, John kissed each one
of them on the cheek. Howdy winced to himself. Knowing how it would
look on the evening news.

The taped interviews took almost no time. There wasn't much to tell.
Sheila and Catarina had virtually nothing to tell, except to confirm
that the pair had trailed them across Montana, Wyoming and Utah.
Recounting their spotting of one of them on their walk. John told of
his tail while he fished, and the story of the deer and the DNR agent.
Then of his warning from Bill and his preparation and actions when he
learned of their danger.

Lastly he recounted the last few seconds; the mad dash for safety, the
car screeching to a halt across his bow and seeing the agents jump out
armed, hearing the shots outside as he hit the lock on the door and
dove into the back. His warning to the women, the burst of fire at his
lock and the sudden presence of an armed man inside the motor home and
his superb defense of the women and himself.

"Well, you performed valiantly. I have no doubt you would all have been
dead had you not dropped him when you did," Howdy said, turning off the
camera.

"I'm not so sure. Myself and maybe Sheila, but I think their goal was
to secure Catarina and the information," John said.

"I don't know that Sergei was so sentimental about Catarina. She's
lovely, but Sergei's not the sentimental type," Howdy said.

"Not for that reason. I think he had other motives for keeping her
alive," John said, absently.

"I don't know what, but you could be right. Well, let's get you over to
that helicopter service," Howdy said.

"Could you clear it to have us flown to the hospital, I think Catarina
would very much like to see her sister," John said.

"Of course. I'll arrange it," Bill answered. John sat in the back of
the command vehicle on a bench seat, the women snuggled to him,
fighting the last of their shakes. His arms around each of them
protectively as they passed through the gathered throng. News cameras
thrust against the windows. They landed at the helipad at the hospital.
Catarina was directed to her sister's location. John and Sheila tagging
behind. After Catarina went in to see her sister, John snagged the
doctor on her case, showing his ID.

"Excuse me, doctor. May I ask the type of drugs she was kept on?"

"Opiates. Probably opium suppositories. Luckily we found no trace of
heroin or other drugs," replied the doctor.

"And the treatment?" John asked.

"Probably Methadone, it's the most tried and true," said the doctor.

"Addict her to another substance?" John asked, dubiously.

"It may not be the best, but we don't presently know a better way,"
sighed the doctor.

"Tell me, I know the body shuts off natural production of endorphins
when a person takes opiates, do you know how long it takes the body to
start producing them again once the outside stimulus is removed?" John
asked.

"You're exceptionally well informed.... actually, quite soon. The hard
part is getting them over the initial withdrawal. We could keep them
sedated for that period, but the craving will remain," the doctor
explained.

"May I make a suggestion.... " John began. The women rode with John on
the trip to the silo. Howdy had made arrangements for Catarina to be
shuttled back and forth between the silo and the hospital by chopper
each day for the duration of Bianca's hospitalization. When the chopper
set down, women poured out in number to greet them. The chopper pilot
was stunned by the plethora of stunning bodies around him. He was
nervous about their presence around the spinning blades, but none
approached the tail rotor or raised their hands as they poured in to
grab bags and greet occupants.

The pilot sat in awe as John greeted each one in the same passionate
manner. He was more than a little surprised when Sheila did the same.
Several even greeted Catarina in this manner, making her feel *very*
welcome. Cindy stood by the door, her hands on her shapely hips,
shaking her head and giggling. After the chopper departed John led
Catarina towards the silo.

"I tell you not to bring any home, so what do you do?" Cindy chuckled.

"Okay, just one more, but that's it!" John held up two fingers. Cindy
grinned and nodded, moving into his arms.

When she finally let him breathe again, John said, "Two, and then
that's the end of it. I have a special favor to ask of my lovelies. Oh,
Catarina Rothschild, this is my fianc�e, Cindy." Cindy turned to her
and smiled radiantly.

"*Very* pleased to meet you, Catarina. Welcome to our home. I swear,
John. I'm glad you're out of the spy business. I don't think my blood
pressure could handle any more stunning women like her," Cindy
chuckled.

"Thank you, Cindy. I have been so looking forward to meeting you,"
Catarina said, extending her hand.

"Wow, lovely voice too. And such diction!" Cindy said, using the
extended hand to pull Catarina into an extended embrace.

"An excellent role model for the triplets, huh? Let's get inside, I
think that's a news chopper tailing us," John said. Cindy kissed
Catarina quickly, but warmly before turning to John.

"You okay?" she asked, putting her arm around him, while retaining her
hold of Catarina. John nodded.

"Yes, surprisingly so. I just want to get comfortable and relax in
private," John said.

"You might find that difficult, you've got a whole passel of women hot
for your company," Cindy chuckled as they entered the silo.

"That's what I call relaxing, in *style*," John chuckled.

"Welcome home, lover," Cindy bubbled, kissing his cheek, then turning.

"Now, Catarina. Looks like the triplets, Candice, Mae and Judy have
snagged Sheila for the night and Theresa *desperately* needs to spend
time with John. Looks like I'm in need of someone to welcome home. May
I offer you my company for the night?" Cindy asked. Catarina was taken
aback, but recovered quickly.

"Yes, that would be lovely, as you are... Thank you. I was quite hoping
to spend time with John as well," she said, tears moving to her eyes.

"Your first French lesson," John chuckled. Catarina blushed crimson.

"I'm quite certain that John can work us into his schedule after
Theresa's calmer...... *French?*" Cindy asked, puzzled. John nodded to
both parts.

"You'll find out," he chuckled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Continued in chapters 86-90.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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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