Edge of Tomorrow (65 page)

Syd squeezed her legs together on his
hand and replied, “OK, enough of this morbid talk! Nothing is going
to happen to either of us! If it makes you happy, I’ll put these in
my purse, but I think a prenup makes more sense. But since
I’m
not
after your money,
thanks for believing in me! I love you!”

He leaned over and kissed her gently, and she
kissed him back. He whispered, “I love you, too! Thanks for
humoring me. I feel better knowing you have these.”

Syd slipped the papers into her purse, and
they turned to the Blue Phone for her lesson in advanced
communications.

Sara’s voice on the speaker interrupted them.
“OK, Hatch, we’ve picked up Bill, and the police have taken over
the scene below. No Brits yet.”

“Good work, Sara. Syd and I will see you guys
back at the same spot where you picked up the money bag so I can
put it back in the bank. That’s a lot of cash to be lying
around.”

“Roger. Why don’t you head back, and we’ll
catch up. I want to monitor what the Greek cops do with the British
gal and Koko. I never trust these guys,” replied Sara.

“OK, see you there.”

Hatch told the pilot to head back to the
Athens Airport. Syd was still mulling over their discussion about
money and power.

• • •

The President of the United States was in the
Oval Office at 10:30 A.M. with his National Security Advisor, Elton
Crenshaw, and the Secretary of State, T. James Washborn. They had
been monitoring the situation in Athens. An American woman had been
murdered by the highjackers of the Grand Princess, and it was
possible that more would be killed. The President had not yet
decided upon a course of action when he was informed that the
situation was over.

“So, the SAS took charge, eh?” he asked
Washborn.

“No, they arrived just after the mess was
resolved. I got a somewhat sketchy rundown from our embassy
people—and the CIA,” replied Washborn with a frown. “This entire
incident was filmed by the media, of course, and the CIA just
finished reviewing the films a few minutes ago, and more questions
are raised than are answered. It reminds me of that Cuba airline
incident. Anyway, at about 5:30 P.M. their time, there was a big
puff of smoke not far from their black chopper. Then they were seen
loading two canvas bags into the chopper. They took a female
hostage with them and left.”

“I thought you said things were resolved,”
grumbled the President.

“There’s more. Even more confusing. At around
6 o’clock Greek time, a woman called the police in a small village
and told them where to find the hostage, the ship’s money, and the
highjackers. They found them all right! All the crooks were dead
except the leader, who was trussed up like a turkey. There was only
one bag of money, but they think it contains all the money and
jewelry taken from the ship. They’re taking an inventory now to
make sure.”

“The hostage?” mused the President.

“She’s fine. Roughed up a little and nearly
raped, but she said she was saved by some commandos with eerie
helmets and face shields,” continued Washborn.

The NSA asked, “Were they SAS?”

“No. They hadn’t arrived yet. No one knows
who they were, or how they got there, or how they left.”

The President thought immediately of Bob.
This entire caper was so impossible to figure out, it had Bob’s
stamp on it.

How does he manage to be in Cuba, or Athens,
when something is happening? And how does he do the things he
does?

The President finally said, “OK, get me a
detailed report. On my desk by Monday morning. It sounds as if we
don’t need to get involved now.”

Il Castello di Bragno, Italy

Sunday, August 19, 2001

8:00 A.M.

Syd awoke lying on her back and stretched her
hands over her head and smiled. She glanced to her left and saw
Hatch asleep on his left side, his back to her. They were both
naked, since they had both fallen asleep immediately after their
“nightcap.” They had arrived at the castle late last night and had
gone straight to Hatch’s quarters, had sex in the shower, and then
had fallen into bed exhausted.

They had not seen anyone last night, so Syd
looked forward to showing off her ring and breaking the
news—especially to Sara, who would be the only one who understood
how this could have happened so quickly. She held up her left hand
and looked at her ring—not just because it was so gorgeous, but
because of what it represented. She still couldn’t believe that
this entire fairy tale was real! She knew she had to come down to
earth soon, and think through the problems marriage would bring to
her life. Whatever they were, she would face them and solve them.
She would not lose this happiness for anything!

And I need to call Karen, too, and let her
know! But none of that today! Today is relax and enjoy! Bask in my
own glow!

She got up and used the bathroom, then
started the coffee maker they had put in the room. She wandered
back to the bedroom and climbed back into bed, plumped her pillows
and, with her hands behind her head, stared at the ceiling.

I wonder if Hatch wants children. Surely he
does! I certainly do! My biological clock is ticking, so we should
have them while I still can. I wonder what religion he is. Will he
go along with a church wedding? If so, which church? Shit! I have a
lot of things to discuss with him—find out about him! What do I do
about my teaching career? Hmm. How many women will hate me when he
marries me?

“Good morning, lovely one,” Hatch said,
interrupting her day dreaming. “What’s with the frown?”

“I didn’t realize I was frowning. I was just
thinking about the future, and about all your women who are going
to hate me when we get married,” she laughed.

Syd’s position on the bed had pulled her
breasts high on her chest and they pointed straight at the ancient
ceiling. Hatch was distracted by them and did not really hear her
response.

“What? I’m sorry, dear, but I was ogling your
stunning twins. You said something about women? I’ve got all the
woman I need right here!” he leered as he ran a hand over her left
breast.

Syd ignored his advances and went on, “For
example, what are you going to tell your nympho Austrian countess?
How did you get … acquainted with a countess?”

“So, you want to hear about all my past
conquests?” he chuckled.

“Heavens no! Then I’d have to bore you with
all of mine! I was just wondering about her,” replied Syd as she
covered the hand on her breast with her own.

“Why don’t I tell you about the stewardess in
Miami instead. The countess story is complicated.”

“No, I want to hear about the countess! The
more complicated the better. I need to learn more about your
life.”

“Well, all right. Her name is Elizabeth von
Braten, and I’ve known her since 1983.”

“That long? How
old
is she?” asked Syd.

“Well, let’s see. She was 18 when I met her.
That would make her around 36 or 37 now, I guess,” he replied,
switching breasts. He had both nipples at attention now.

“You’ve been screwing her since she was a
teeny-bopper?” asked Syd in amazement.

“Hush! Do you want to hear the story or
not?”

“OK, OK! Go on, you lecher!”

“Fine! The year 1983 was a critical one
for me. You may not believe this, but I had a big ego back
then—don’t say a word! I thought I was the
numero uno
assassin in the universe! This was
probably a carry over from being a fighter pilot—you have to
believe you’re the best if you’re going to survive all the chaos
going on around you. Anyway, I decided I should be the best killer
in every possible way—with any weapon, any situation.”

Syd moved his left hand off her breast and
down to her crotch and pushed it between her legs onto her sweet
spot. “I had some similar feelings, but had to concentrate on less
than I wanted to because of lack of time. My cover as a professor
took a lot of my time.”

“Well, I took it to the extreme. I practiced
not only the pistol, rifle, hand-to-hand, and knife, I also added
the bow and arrow, crossbow, administering of various poisons, and
swords of assorted types. I wanted to be the best in any
situation,” said Hatch as he massaged her crotch. “I had done some
fencing in college, but I wanted to train with the best, so I would
sneak into Vienna a couple of times a month and train with the
great Fencing Master, Baron Hans von Hochsburg. I took saber
lessons from him—still do—because the techniques were closer to the
real world sword, the rapier. He also gave me some practice with
the rapier itself. I occasionally take a foil or epee lesson, but I
concentrate on the things that make me a good rapier fencer.”

“So you’re good with swords, too, eh? I would
have thought you would have been a football player in college, not
a fencer.”

“I had a hard time back then relating to team
sports. I was very intolerant of people who weren’t up to the skill
level I expected. Plus, I spent a lot of time in the drama thing,
developing my music and acting. There are just so many hours in a
day,” he answered. Then he added, “I have a rapier here ready for
you right now! And if I’m not mistaken, I feel a scabbard here that
it will fit in nicely!”

“Not yet, dear! I’m not quite ready. Just
keep doing what you’re doing for a moment longer. Tell me more
about how you met the countess,” cooed Syd as she humped his
hand.

“Well, while I was in Vienna in March 1983, I
made a near fatal mistake. I had gone there to have my usual
fencing lessons. I traveled as a German aristocrat, because, as you
know, Austria was occupied by the USSR in those days, and Germans
could travel there more easily than most.

“I was also in Vienna for another reason.
Count Karl von Braten was in the employ of the CIA—maybe MI-6,
too—and I volunteered to pick up his reports while I was there. As
an aside, you might be interested in the fact that his marriage to
Elizabeth von Oertzen in 1982 was an arranged one, which is not
unusual with royalty. Both he and Elizabeth were descended from
royal blood lines—he from von Hapsburg, she from von Oertzen. She
was 17 and he was 37 at the time of the marriage, and they hardly
knew each other,” Hatch narrated.

“So she’s married?” asked Syd, who had
assumed she was single.

“Of course. That’s how you become a
countess—you marry a count,” he shrugged with a wicked smile.

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” she
said.

“Before you reply with a scathing riposte,
let me explain the inner-workings of royalty to you. They are so
obsessed with maintaining and melding bloodlines that their
behavior sometimes appears strange to outsiders. The count and
Elizabeth had one son together—to carry on the melded
bloodlines—but he continued to keep his stable of mistresses, and
essentially ignored Elizabeth’s needs. The rules allowed her to
have affairs of her own as long as she was discreet and didn’t get
pregnant.”

Syd turned her head and looked at
Hatch. “How utterly ridiculous! How can people live like that?
That’s
immoral
!”

“Royals are a strange bunch, as we’ve seen in
the Monterra situation. Anyway, back to March 1983. I was running
late for my fencing appointment, but I had to pick up the count’s
report at our usual drop point. My usual procedure was to check the
area out carefully, then watch for awhile. I fucked up in my haste.
As I approached the drop, two guys approached me—it turned out they
were KGB—and attempted to detain me for questioning. Since I hadn’t
picked up the documents yet, I could have bluffed my way out of it
eventually, but it pissed me off, so I shot them and retrieved the
count’s report. That’s when a third KGB agent appeared without
warning and shot me in the stomach. I killed him, then got away
from there and called the count. I was in bad shape when his men
got to me and took me to the count’s palace. He had summoned a
friendly doctor who fixed me up as best he could, but as is
possible with stomach wounds, I got an infection.”

Syd interrupted him. “So, that’s the scar on
your stomach?”

“Yes.”

“Poor baby! What happened next?”

“They pumped me up with antibiotics, but I
got a bad fever. The count was hiding me in one of the unused
bedrooms in his palace. The only heat in the room was a fireplace.
There was still snow on the ground that March, so I was freezing to
death, what with the fever and the cold room. I didn’t know it
until later—I was passed out for three days—but Elizabeth got naked
and climbed into bed with me to keep me warm. It must have worked,
because, with the help of the drugs and her warmth, the fever broke
three days later—and as you can see, I survived.”

“The count let his young wife get into bed
with you naked?”

“Better her than him,” laughed Hatch as he
leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose.

“So, that was the beginning of your sexual
liaison with a married teenager?” teased Syd as she reached down
between her legs and pushed his fingers into her.

“Oh, no! There was no sex at that point. Just
her warmth and caring. Recuperation from the wound was going to be
lengthy, and I couldn’t stay at the palace without putting them in
danger. The CIA certainly didn’t want me back in the U. S.—too many
things to explain at that point, me being NOC and all. So, they
arranged to have me shipped to Nepal for my recovery period.”

Syd exclaimed, “Nepal? What a strange choice!
Isn’t that somewhere beyond nowhere? You can speed the story up
now; I’m very ready! Get to the part where you seduced the
countess.”

“Well, I hate to rush a good story, but I’ve
been ready for quite a while!”