Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (21 page)

"You called for me, sir?" asked Charlotte.
 
She walked confidently into the room, not waiting to be told to enter.
 
As the door closed behind her, Reginald saw she wore nothing but a thin silk robe tied at the waist with a gold belt.
 
The heels of her shoes clicked on the wood floor as she approached.

"Okay," said Jayne in a disgusted voice.
 
"
You
may get off on watching, but I don't.
 
I prefer
doing
."

Reginald smiled as he looked at his watch.
 
"Very well, let's begin the final act.
 
I believe the satellite should pass overhead any minute.
 
You'll have the best ability to transmit shortly."

Jayne's image turned and the screen went blank.

Charlotte purred and as she reached his side, one hand trailing the leather armrest of his chair.
 
She stepped in front of him and gracefully dropped to her knees.
 
One hand landed on his lap—a light, delicate touch—as she arched a sculpted eyebrow.

Reginald's smile widened.
 
He remembered how well she had cared for him the last time.
 
"Not tonight, my dear," he whispered.
 
He placed his hands on top of hers, relishing the softness of her skin, yielding and warm.
 
He reached with his free hand and brought Vivian closer.

He put their hands together and watched with approval as their fingers intertwined.
 
Charlotte looked up as Vivian looked downward, sultry smiles spread on both their faces as their eyes met.
 
Without missing a step, Charlotte rose and slowly embraced Vivian.
 
Their tenderness would've convinced almost anyone the two women had been deeply in love with each other for years.

I do love to see the result of my training.
 
Reginald lifted his drink in one hand and rested his chin in the other.
 
He watched, one finger resting on his pursed lips as his latest operatives kissed.

Movement on the screen drew his attention away from the show in front of him.
 
Barron's transmission was beginning.
 
Jayne strolled on camera and stepped behind the podium emblazoned with the Presidential Seal.
 
She began her speech,
 
her voice strong and confident, explaining to the citizens of the United States that she had been tireless in her fight to stop Barron's corruption.
 

Reginald split his attention.
 
He knew the speech well—he'd written it.
 
Jayne would go on for another 3 1/2 minutes, exposing the evils of Barron's reign and her own determination to fight it from the inside.
 
In a few moments, Reginald knew she would denounce Barron's tactics and condemn the heinous prosecution of anyone loyal to President Harris.
 
Jayne declared Barron unfit for office, named him a traitor, then proudly announced he'd been taken into custody.
 
A great victory for the Constitution, justice, and the American people.

As Jayne spoke, Reginald's eyes drank in the sights before him.
 
Charlotte and Vivian grew more passionate in their kissing and touching.
 
Vivian untied Charlotte's belt and the thin fabric slid from her graceful shoulders, a whisper of silk on skin, to puddle at her feet.
 
As Reginald watched, his breath caught in his throat.

One of them—Reginald didn't know which—sighed deliciously as the two naked women pressed their bellies together and snaked their arms around each other.
 
Their mouths locked together, muffling a conjoined moan.

Reginald shifted his eyes to Jayne as she made her final announcement.
 
Gruber and another agent dragged President Barron—now in chains like a common thief—to the podium.
 
He looked bedraggled—the makeup had been removed, his hair had been tussled, and he looked like a fugitive.

Reginald smiled and drank deeply from his glass.
 
The fire in his throat added fuel to the heat he felt in his groin.
 
His eyes flicked back to Charlotte and Vivian as their hands went exploring, their breathing quickened, and their soft moans became more urgent.
 
He marveled at their talents—it was a wonder he had not conquered the world sooner with women such as these.

"… Barron, I name you traitor to the Constitution and people of the United States of America."

The husk of a President jerked his head to the left and glared at Jayne.
 
Reginald cocked his head and watched.
 
There was anger behind those eyes—fury even.
 
He'd hid it well, but Barron was still there, down inside that broken shell on the screen.
 
At that moment, Reginald was glad this was about to end—he felt hatred radiate through the camera.

I thought you were broken.
 
Bravo, Mr. President.
 
You fooled even me…you gave the codes to Harris, sacrificing your only loyal servant.
 
What more trouble might you have caused if we didn't go forward with this dog and pony show?

"I am not a traitor!
 
You
are!" Barron shrieked.
 
He turned to the camera, his eyes blazing like a religious zealot.
 
"My fellow Americans, hear me when I cry out—this woman has drugged me!
 
Look at me!"
 
Barron pleaded, raising his manacled hands.
 
The handcuffs wrapped around his wrists gleamed in the camera lights and his bony wrists appeared childlike under the heavy chains.
 
"Look what she did to me!
 
She's been driving me—"

Jayne nodded and Gruber jerked Barron away from the podium, cutting off his ranting.
 
Jayne stepped back to the podium as Barron struggled against the agents.
 
He shouted something, but the microphone only picked up Jayne, muffling the indistinct noise behind her.
 

"Our great nation has suffered enough.
 
While there is nothing I can do about the pestilence unleashed upon us by the North Koreans, there is something I can do to rectify the treason and growing in the heart of Washington these past months and years."
 
Jayne turned and stared at Gruber.
 
"Do it."

Barron's face twisted in a mask of rage.
 
He screamed and thrashed, then turned and sunk his teeth into the neck of the taller agent.
 
The man yowled and let go, swinging a fist that connected with Barron's face.
 
The erstwhile President staggered under the blow and crashed into the blue drapery behind the stage.
 
Gruber shouted and dropped into a crouch as he drew his weapon.

"
Gun!
 
He's got a gun!
" called an indistinct voice off-camera.
 
Jayne screamed and a third Secret Service agent rushed on-screen to knock her from the stage.

President Barron turned and pointed the pistol at the taller agent.
 
The bleeding man threw his hands up.
 
Reginald saw the empty holster at the agent's side and leaned forward.
 
This was not part of the script.
 

Well done, Barron, well done.
 
I see the side effect of our little love potion has finally kicked in.
 
I wonder why such unbridled aggression never manifested itself earlier?
 
Of all our test subjects, you lasted the longest.
 
Fascinating.

Barron raised the pistol and aimed it at the bleeding agent.
 
Two shots rang out and red flowers blossomed on the President's chest.
 
He staggered back as if punched and dropped to his knees, falling out of view with a clatter.
 
The image shook and chaos erupted.
 

People shouted, suited Secret Service agents swarmed the stage, and Reginald glimpsed blonde hair flash by as Jayne left the area.
 
The image went dark, replaced with the White House logo over a Presidential Seal on a blue background.

Reginald laughed.
 
"Not exactly as planned, but I shall take it!"
 
He turned his attention back to the two lovers next to him.
 
Charlotte kissed Vivian's neck while her hands caressed her body.
 
Vivian had one hand intertwined in Charlotte's flame red hair, while her other hand caressed one of Charlotte's exquisite breasts.
 
Vivian leaned into Charlotte's kiss and placed one naked thigh between Charlotte's.

The monitor displaying the Presidential Seal went black for a split second before Jayne's face appeared, grown larger-than-life.
 
Out of breath, she blinked, surprise and anger fighting for control.
 
"Did you see that?"

Reginald kept his eyes on the two women in front of him but spoke to Jayne.
 
"Yes, dear…I saw everything."
 
He sighed as Charlotte and Vivian rocked their hips in sensuous rhythm.
 
Any moment now, he figured the two of them would find their way to the rug in front of the wide fireplace.
 

"You performed admirably, Jayne."
 
He tore his eyes away for a moment and glanced at the screen.
 
"Really—one for the books.
 
Tell me, is he dead?"

"What do
you
think?" Jayne snapped, her eyes on the women next to Reginald.
 
"He took two to the chest!"
 
She rubbed her forehead and noticed her arm.
 
"Oh no," Jayne muttered, "he got blood all over my favorite blouse."
 
She looked up.
 
"He really lost it there at the end.
 
You should have seen his eyes…"

"Yes, I noticed.
 
That was the kind of result we expected from the get-go.
 
All the others experienced the side-effects much sooner.
 
I do hope Dr. Salcotti was taking notes."
 
Reginald chuckled.
 
"Well, at any rate, that little performance should buy you some time.
 
Go and change your shirt, then give President Harris a call.
 
You don't want to do it now—give the man time to think about the ramifications of what just happened…" He felt his attention drawn back to his two pets.
 
Charlotte reluctantly pulled temporarily away from Vivian's embrace and led her closer to the fireplace.

I knew it.

Jayne said something, but Reginald couldn't hear it.
 
He looked to the screen and watched her speak to someone off-camera.
 

"What is it?" he asked

Jayne turned back to the camera and smiled, holding up a cell phone.
 
"Guess who's calling me?"

Reginald sat up straight and momentarily forgot about the two naked women writhing on the rug.
 
"Really?
 
Harris is calling you already?
 
That's soon."

"Well it's not Santa Claus," muttered Jayne as she activated the speaker-phone.
 
"Speaker Harris, what a pleasant surprise—"

"Cut the bullshit, young lady.
 
I don't know what sick, twisted game you think you're playing, but your actions tonight will not be tolerated."

Reginald watched as Jayne's brow creased.
 
"Why, whatever are you talking about, Orren?"

"
Don't 'Orren' me, you bitch
," hissed the President of the United States.
 
"
You may have wrapped Barron around your finger easily enough, but I think you'll find I'm harder to tame."

"You're welcome, then."

"'You're welcome?'"
repeated President Harris.
"I didn't call you to thank you.
 
I called to accept your surrender."

Jayne stared pointedly at the camera and arched an eyebrow.
 
"Surrender?
 
For what?
 
You have a funny way of expressing your gratitude, Mr. President.
 
I just killed the new Benedict Arnold.
 
A simple thank you would be enough."

"Thank you?
 
You really are delusional, aren't you?
 
You executed the Vice President of the United States on live TV.
 
You think I'm going to thank you?
 
You're sick.
 
Removing you and your associates from existence will be a pleasure.
 
I'm just sorry I won't be able to put you down myself."

Jayne paled.
 
"Now, just a second—"

Reginald heard the faint
click
that signaled President Harris had hung up.
 
"Well…" he intoned.
 
"That was…
something
."

"Shit!" said Jayne as she threw her cell phone on the floor.

Reginald turned and watched as Vivian climaxed loudly.
 
Charlotte's moans increased in volume.
 
"I think you better see to your tunnel, Jayne."

"So that's it?
 
After all this, after all the work, after being trapped in this god-forsaken hole for the past few weeks, that's
it?
 
'See to my tunnel?'"

Reginald stood and unbuttoned his shirt.
 
"Oh, Jayne, trust me—that's not all.
 
We're just getting started, my dear."
 
He paused, the shirt half off his torso.
 
"Nevertheless,
 
I think it would be prudent if you came home."
 
He dropped his shirt to the floor and stared at Jayne's image on the screen.
 
"Sooner rather than later, I think—don't you agree?"