Authors: Al Ruksenas
“
What kind of missing link?” His mind resisted, but his instincts fed on Laura’s words.
“
When I told him how we were attacked outside the museum the other night and I heard a scream inside, he went back to his papers.” She looked the Colonel directly into his eyes.
“
He drew a pentagram over a map of Washington. The center was over the museum—over the Hope Diamond—those accidents with the officials –the Defense Secretary and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs—they extend along the axes of the pentagram.”
“
That could be coincidental,” he felt obliged to counter.
“
I’ll grant you that,” she replied. “I didn’t want to believe it either. We’re educated people, right? We’re not superstitious. “
“
No,” he replied thoughtfully. “We’re not superstitious.”
“
The only way to see if this is for real is to see what’s along the axes. My uncle says the proof of the pentagram would be some believers along its axes exhibiting signs of the black arts.”
“
It’s a very intriguing scenario, Laura. But why the Hope Diamond? Its owners were supposed to be cursed. Now, it’s in a museum.”
“
Exactly! It’s a national treasure! Imagine! Millions of people standing before it every year! What if they’re absorbing the aura of its power? They probably don’t have the slightest inkling that
they
are the owners! It was donated to the people of the United States in Nineteen fifty
‐
eight!”
“
And now it rests in the ‘nation’s attic’,” Colonel Caine said pensively.
“
So,
we
are the owners,” Laura emphasized.
“
We are the owners,” he mused.
He raised his glass towards her. “Are you sure it’s not this talking?”
“
Of course not!” she said huffily. “Why do you suppose we were attacked outside the museum that night? When you cornered those freaky goons, they said they were doing ‘what they were supposed to.’ Remember?”
Caine nodded thoughtfully. “Keep this brew handy,” he intoned slowly. “We may need it for the original purpose it was intended.”
With a quick flip, he finished the rest of the glass. His face became a mask screening his thoughts which churned the events of the past several days and sorted them into a strange, but increasingly compelling picture.
Laura lowered her eyes to her glass. She took a slow sip of her liqueur.
“
You probably think I imagine too much.”
“
No. Not at all,” he replied with a preoccupied look still on his face.
She leaned back into the sofa and smiled at him. “There are some forces that just can’t be explained.”
“
Like love and desire?”
“
Like evil.”
“
That too,” he acknowledged a little crestfallen. “I prefer to deal with forces that are known,” he said rebounding. “They’re easier to explain—and control.”
He placed his arm along the back of the sofa.
“
What would you do with forces you can’t explain?” she asked.
“
I’d see where they lead me,” he said emphasizing his words.
Laura’s serious tone disappeared into a knowing smile. “Are we talking about the same thing?”
“
I certainly hope so.”
She turned her head towards him.
He leaned slowly in her direction, his arm moving from the backrest to her shoulders. He pulled her closer and gazing into her eyes he gently, but deliberately moved his mouth towards hers. Her lips parted slightly and she began to close her eyes. He pressed his lips onto hers and felt her respond. She felt his tongue in her mouth.
Laura stirred, at first tense, unsure, then abandoning the testing and reserve of their short acquaintance. She put her arms around his neck, drew herself fully onto him and thrust her own tongue onto his.
Laura moaned slightly as she felt him press his body along hers and draw her even closer, as if trying to enclose her into his own body and being. She felt moist and alive, her nerves tingling, her heart pounding. Parting her thighs slightly, she rubbed against him and embraced him harder, her mouth now moving excitedly on his— inviting, wet, eager.
Chris breathed heavily into her mouth, kissing her repeatedly, passionately, then roamed his lips and tongue toward her neck until he felt her ear. Laura stirred again and in increasingly bolder, circular motions on his body, brought her hands to his pelvic area where she stroked his thighs and the hardness in his loins.
His mouth ranged to her shoulders. He kissed them then licked the beginnings of her breast, moving his head lower until his tongue felt the edge of her demi bra. He pulled it down gently until his tongue felt the hardness of her right nipple, kissing her breast as he did. He put his lips again on the nipple, kissed it wetly and held his mouth on it, while circling his tongue on the peak. She cringed with delight and put her own mouth onto his ear, sticking her tongue deeply into it.
With rhythmic movements of his hands he ranged over her body, stroked her belly and put his hand several times between her thighs. He could feel the warm moisture of her excitement.
Chris gazed at her and saw an ecstatic peaceful gleam in her eyes and a glisten on her parted lips. He undid two buttons of her blouse, then cupped her right breast with his hand, stroking it rhythmically around the nipples.
She leaned her weight onto him, unbuttoned his shirt and put her hand on his chest in stroking motions toward his left nipple. She felt part of a scar that extended upward toward his shoulder.
He began to undo her jeans and she loosened his belt while they kissed with abandon.
Suddenly they heard a loud scrape across the length of the back door.
“
What’s that?” she exclaimed breathlessly. He felt a shudder go through her body.
“
It’s okay,” he murmured. He rose slowly, reluctantly and stalked cautiously to the door, listening and looking back towards his jacket draped over the dining room chair. Another scrape resonated through the door. The sound was familiar. He cracked open the door.
Standing squarely on the landing facing him from several feet away was a snarling dog. It looked black in the dark, broad in the shoulders and hefty, but he couldn’t place the breed. The two dogs attacking him and his partner during the gunfight in Beirut flashed across his mind.
He stared at it a moment, wanting to shoot it right there for the interruption, then with a dismissing frown, closed the door and returned to Laura.
“
It’s nothing.” He sat back down, conscious of apprehension she must feel from her ordeal outside the Smithsonian. He put his arm around her. She huddled next to him.
“
What is it?”
“
It’s all right,” Caine soothed. “Your dog’s just jealous. I wouldn’t worry too much with a pet like that around.”
“
I don’t have a dog!” she blurted.
Chapter 27
Caine leaped from the sofa, grabbed his holster from his jacket, drew his pistol and returned to the door. He opened it cautiously and peered outside. The dog was gone. He opened the door wider and scanned the small, fenced yard, aiming his pistol into the darkness.
All he could see were the lights of neighboring houses and sounds of traffic on Wisconsin Avenue beyond.
He locked the door and returned, slowly holstering his pistol, this time leaving it on the dining room table.
Caine sat down and put a comforting arm around her.
“
What dog?” she insisted frightfully. “How did it get in the yard?”
“
Just a stray wandering the neighborhood,” he ventured to reassure her.
“
They don’t allow strays around here.”
“
Maybe it’s lost or hungry. It’s all right, really.” Colonel Caine tried to sound as reassuring as he could. But the same question nagged him too.
“
Why would it want to get in here?” she persisted.
“
It’s gone now, don’t worry.” He looked into her eyes for response.
They were wide with apprehension.
He noticed she had adjusted her bra, but her blouse was still unbuttoned.
“
How about one more of your wizard’s elixir?” he asked, trying to divert her concern.
She smiled weakly, unconvinced. Slowly, she reached for the decanter at the end table and poured each of them another measure of the liqueur. Her languid, automatic motions betrayed thoughts that were suddenly elsewhere. She remembered talk of familiars in her lecture. Monsieur. The diamond. Her uncle’s pentagram. She sipped her drink, even as she handed the Colonel his glass. A sudden chill shook her.
“
Are you sure you’re all right?” Caine asked feeling her shudder in his cradled arm.
“
What?...Yes..Of course...I’m fine,” she replied as if startled out of a trance. “You know, after everything that’s happened, you get jumpy.”
She got up and sauntered into the middle of the room, composing herself. “I hope you’re hungry. I have a couple of steaks in the refrigerator.”
“
I’m hungry, all right.”
“
Are we talking about the same thing again?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“
I sure hope so,” he repeated. He joined her and raised his glass. “Here’s to you.”
“
And to you,” she replied pensively.
“
And to whatever forces brought us together.”
She grimaced. “Please! I’m not sure I want to drink to whatever forces brought us together. I want to forget that!”
“
What I meant is the forces right now.”
“
That, I’ll accept.”
They clinked their glasses. He intertwined his arm around hers and they sipped the amber brew.
He put his other arm around her waist and pulled her towards him. They shared a lingering kiss.
“
What’s that scar you have?” she asked catching her breathe.
He looked down his open shirt. “That’s the last earthly mark of a drug crazed Somalian brigand who tried to split my head open last year with a samurai sword.”
“
I see you’ve used that phrase before,” she teased. “It’s well polished. I hope it wasn’t used on too many other women.”
“
Oh, no!” he replied fervently. “I am an officer and a gentleman.”
“
I’ll put on the steaks,” Laura retorted to break the suggestive gaze they were giving each other.
“
Let me help with something.”
“
It’s okay. I don’t like to put guests to work.”
“
I hope you don’t have too many,” he countered.
She put her hand demonstratively on her hip and with a furrowed eyebrow said: “Would you be jealous?”
“
Wildly so.”
“
Good,” she answered with self satisfaction and motioned him to a tall swivel chair at a counter facing her open kitchen.
“
How do you like your steaks?” She busied herself preparing two cuts of filet mignon.
“
Medium rare.” He leaned on the counter and watched ardently her graceful movements around the stove. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring some wine.”
“
It’s all right, Chris. I was ambiguous in my invitation.”
She bent slightly to check the oven. Caine stared at the proportioned shape of her back outlined invitingly by her contoured jeans. He wondered if their foreplay was just a spontaneous expression released by tension and drink or a threshold of deeper attraction.
“
I do have a bottle around here somewhere…” she started and turned to him.
“
I did tell you how lovely you look, didn’t I?” he said.
“
Actually, not in so many words. Thank you. But I do remember how you stared at me when we met.”