Edge of Tomorrow (66 page)

Syd sat up, then straddled him.

“
Time to sheath your rapier, sire!” she
said as she took him into her. “I’ll do the work while you
talk.”

“I can’t concentrate on talking
now
! I’ll finish the story
later
!”

“Forsooth, milord, methinks I am impaled upon
thy sword!”

“Fear not, milady, lest thou swoon. ’Tis the
magical sword of Don Juan. It cannot bring distress to thou, merely
the sweetest of feelings to thy loins.”

“I think thou dost speak the truth, milord,
though I might yet swoon from the pleasure of it!”

• • •

Afterwards, they showered, and as they were
dressing, Syd said with interest, “You can finish your tale of
debauchery now. I have my concentration back. First, what happened
in Nepal?”

“Getting me there was quite an adventure.
They smuggled me out of Austria in a hearse. I was actually in a
coffin! Then they flew me to Kathmandu, and from there they took me
up a mountain to a small village—the name is unimportant to the
story, and I promised not to reveal it. I was cared for by a
middle-aged couple—I lived in their hut and ate food they prepared
for me. No caviar and champagne! Yak stew and homemade beer! I
learned to love it!

“The CIA hired two old guys from the local
monastery to ‘protect’ me. ‘Watch’ me was more like it. These guys
were as tall as I am, but very thin. No one there spoke English,
but after a month I had picked up enough of their language to
converse a little. We used a lot of sign language, too. At first, I
thought my two ‘protectors’ were a joke—old and lanky. I soon found
out how wrong I was!”

He paused and poured himself another cup of
coffee as Syd worked on her makeup at the dresser mirror.

“Pour me another, please, sweetie,”
said Syd as she applied eye shadow. Then she laughed, “Maybe they
were supposed to protect the young women of the village from
you
!”

He chuckled, “That’s not far off the mark,
but my stomach was still way too sore to do any quail hunting. It
turned out that they have a very elite group of people in Nepal
whose job it is to protect the lamas—the Buddhist priests. They are
trained from infancy for this job. Talk about your royalty! These
guys had a strict code of honor, and possessed martial arts skills
that no Western person very seldom—if ever—gets to see. That’s what
my two guards were.”

He slipped on his black loafers and
took a sip of his coffee, then continued his story as Syd put on
her bra, “I started doing some exercises to get back my strength,
and finally, the oldest of the two started showing me some of their
exercises and martial arts moves. They were honored that I was
learning their language—something an American
never
does. You know the old joke: if a person
speaks three languages, he’s trilingual; if he speaks two, he’s
bilingual; and if he speaks one, he’s an American.”

“Isn’t that the truth! The Ugly
American.”

“So, to shorten the story, when the old guy
started showing me some hand-to-hand stuff, I thought—him being
frail and old—that I would take it easy on him. I had my face in
the dirt so fast I couldn’t believe it! I never saw him move! It
was unbelievable!”

“Poor dear! That must have bruised your ego!”
laughed Syd as she buttoned her blouse. “So, did you learn some
stuff from them?”

“Did I! I was only there six
months—these guys study all their lives—but I got pretty good. They
showed me tricks about various weapons, too. The most interesting
was a version of swordplay I had never seen before. It was a
variation of the Japanese
kendo
. You use a two-handed bamboo stick for a
sword. These guys were unbelievably fast! It really improved my
footwork and coordination.”

“Did you say those guys were Buddhists? If I
remember my history right, Nepal is a Hindu country,” stated Syd as
she smoothed her skirt over her hips and checked herself in the
mirror.

“You’re right, in general. The country is
about 80-85% Hindu, 2% Muslim, a handful of Christians, and the
rest Buddhists. Buddha was born in Nepal, you know, about 543 B.C.
they think.”

He paused and looked at Syd. She had on a
navy blue skirt that came to mid-thigh, and a white silk blouse.
She wore small pearl studs on her ears. She was gorgeous!

“Are we going somewhere? I thought we were
going down to breakfast,” he said.

“I thought I should look good for the
announcement,” she giggled, holding out her left hand and wiggling
her ring finger.

“Well, you are simply fantastically gorgeous!
Should I change into something else?”

“No. You’re fine. No one will be looking at
you!”

“Thanks a lot! Don’t I get any credit for
asking you? It was my idea, you know.”

“That gets lost in the excitement
everyone has for the woman
wearing
the ring, dear. If I get a chance, I’ll toss a credit or two
your way,” laughed Syd, glowing.

“Well, let’s go see who’s up.”

“Not yet. You’ve avoided rather adroitly the
part about how you got around to screwing the countess,” said Syd
with a wry smile.

“I thought I had diverted you well enough,
but I guess not. I went back to West Berlin in the first part of
October 1983. I started getting assignments again, including my
trips to Vienna. I set up a more complex drop system, and was more
careful than ever. I used a new cover name, of course. Everything
went as usual—fencing lessons, pick up drops—until the beginning of
1984. The countess had had her son by then, and was back to her
slim self, and there was a grand party thrown by the count to
celebrate something or other. Being a German of aristocratic
background, I was invited. With so many people being there, my
presence would not seem out of the ordinary. By this time, the
count had more or less focused his attention on his stable of
mistresses, and poor Elizabeth was—how should I put this—dying of
inattention.”

“You mean she wasn’t getting any and was
horny?” chortled Syd.

“That’s the word! Yes, she wasn’t getting
any. So one thing led to another, one drink led to another, and we
found ourselves alone in one of the libraries. She was braless
under her fabulous cocktail dress, and her headlights were on high
beam. It was driving me crazy!”

“High beam?”

“Her nipples were stiff. Haven’t you heard
that saying? Anyway, I thanked her for saving my life, and
mentioned how unfortunate it was that I had been unconscious when
she was in my bed naked. She answered, that since I was now
conscious, we could remedy the situation. She pulled the straps of
her dress off her shoulders and the dress fell in a heap at her
feet. She wore nothing underneath it. Do I need to go on? Surely,
you don’t want a blow by blow of what happened next, do you?”

Syd smiled at him and said, “Her headlights
didn’t hold her dress up? My! I can imagine what happened next.
When was the last time you saw her?”

“The middle of last month. That reminds me.
I’ve missed this month’s fencing lesson! You do distract me!”

“Maybe you can reschedule it, and I can go
with you. I would like to meet the countess and thank her for
saving your life.”

“And flash your ring?”

“You bet your ass!”

• • •

When the two of them entered the small dining
room, Sara, Carmelo, Bill Coffer, and Carmelo’s wife, Angelina,
were already there partaking of various juices, coffee, tea,
fruits, and freshly baked sweet rolls. They all greeted one another
and Syd and Hatch took seats at the table. Teresa appeared and
asked if she could do anything for them.

Hatch said, “I’m famished this morning,
Teresa! Syd and I skipped dinner last night. Maybe you could have
the kitchen whip me up some scrambled eggs and bacon?”

“Certainly,
signore
. How about you, Syd?” replied
Teresa.

“No, thanks, Teresa. I’m fine. I’ll have some
of that melon,” said Syd.

They all discussed the operation in Greece
for awhile, and Syd kept her left hand in her lap as she ate. She
was waiting for just the right moment. Sara finally asked Syd to
pass her a basket of sweet rolls. Syd used her left hand, her ring
clearly in view. Sara reached for the basket and then spotted the
ring.

“Hold it, lady!” exclaimed Sara loudly as she
took the basket and put it down, then grabbed Syd’s hand. “Have you
been eating Cracker Jacks? What is this rock?”

Everyone looked up to see what was going on.
Hatch smiled inwardly and waited, giving Syd her moment in the
sun.

“Does this mean what I think it does, Syd?”
asked Sara, a look of amazement on her face.

Syd glowed and answered, “Yes, it does! Hatch
asked me to marry him and I said yes.”

There were congratulations and hugs all
around, with Sara crying with joy. Teresa came in and joined them,
and after hugging and kissing Syd, went to fetch champagne. Gina
returned with her, carrying a tray of champagne glasses, and got in
on the hugs. There were several toasts made once the champagne was
poured.

Syd finally said, “Thanks to all of you for
your good wishes. I know some of you are thinking that this is too
quick—I’ve only known Hatch, and most of you, for a very short
time. But believe me when I say that I love Hatch with all my
heart, and have made some of the best friends I have ever had in
the last few weeks. Thank you all!”

Syd had tears in her eyes now.

Carmelo changed the subject finally when he
said, “Bruno and his mother are in the air as we speak. They should
be here around one or two o’clock. The plane actually gets in very
shortly, but Mrs. Finelli wanted to go to St. Peter’s Basilica and
attend mass in Rome before coming here. I arranged a car for them
and the chopper is standing by. Gina, why don’t we plan on a
special lunch when they arrive—a combination ‘welcome’ and
engagement party.”

“Si, signore!
It will be my pleasure!” beamed Gina.

• • •

The chopper carrying Bruno and Blancha
Finelli arrived at the castle at 12:49 P.M. Teresa got them settled
in suites on the second floor, west side—just down from Sara’s
quarters. After showering and changing clothes, they joined the
others in the small dining room. The two were greeted warmly by the
others, and after introducing Syd to his mother, Bruno voiced his
disapproval of Syd’s engagement, pointing out that he was a better
catch! They all laughed.

Blancha Finelli wore her 58 years well. She
was trim and fit, but her Sicilian genes had doomed her to be 5
feet 3 inches tall, so Syd and Sara towered over her. There was no
hint of gray in her short hair, thanks to her hairdresser, or Lady
Clairol. She had sparkling brown eyes and did not look like a
lawyer in the casual light blue and white dress she wore.

Hatch and Sara were the only ones in the room
who had met her before. Hatch gave her a European greeting—a kiss
on each cheek—and the others shook hands all around. Everyone got
drinks from Teresa and chatted about trivial things for awhile.

The lunch served by Gina was outstanding, and
they all overate and consumed a great deal of the various wines
offered. Syd, of course, was still the center of attention. As the
lunch came to an end, Hatch took Blancha and Bruno Finelli aside so
he could talk with them privately.

“How was your flight?” asked Hatch.

Blancha answered, “Quite comfortable, Hatch.
Super first class all the way! The flight crew could not have been
better. Thank you for making your aircraft available to us.”

“The least I could do under the
circumstances. Thank you for doing me this favor,” smiled Hatch. “I
hope your quarters are comfortable.”

“Very,” replied Blancha. “This castle is so
interesting. Maybe we can have a tour later?”

Then, Blancha put a hand on his shoulder and
said, “I don’t know yet whether my father will grant you an
audience. Bruno and I will meet with him at 11 o’clock in the
morning, thanks to my mother’s insistence. I have no idea how it
will go. It could be a disaster! However, I have to give my
reconciliation with him top priority. It’s probably my last chance.
I hope you understand.”

“Of course I understand, Blancha! If he
doesn’t accept you and Bruno, what chance have I? My business is
much less important than your family reunion.”

“What is your business with him, anyway?”
asked Blancha innocently.

Hatch stroked his beard, then replied, “Since
you have disassociated yourself from your father’s business for
many years, perhaps we should keep it that way. It would be better
if I didn’t tell you my business with him.”

“Ah!
That
kind of business! Why are you involved in
that kind of vile business?” she snorted.

“I’m really not, Blancha. Trust me! I just
need to give your father a message—one better given face to
face.”

“Well, all right. I’ll see what I can do for
you, but I’m not optimistic,” she frowned.

“Just do what you can. It’s not that
important. I’ll arrange to have the chopper take you to Palermo in
the morning.”

Blancha knew, however, that it was important.
He had just had her flown from Miami for some reason she did not
yet understand.

“Thank you, Hatch. My father will send a car
for us there.”

• • •

When Blancha wandered away to practice her
Italian on Angelina and Carmelo, Hatch took the opportunity to
speak with Bruno in private.

Hatch said, “I’ve had Tessitore’s castle
under satellite surveillance for a couple of days, just getting a
feel for the place. I’m still not sure which floor he uses when he
has guests.”