Part 13
Grand Casino
Monte Carlo
March 10
I suppose the room is beautiful if you like crystal chandeliers, gold gilded mirrors, and a restrained elegant ambiance provided by some of the richest men in Europe. No one dares suggest that the Grand Casino in Monte Carlo be smoke free, either. Rabb’s taking advantage of the freedom, and perhaps giving into the decadence, by smoking a Cuban cigar with impunity.
"I’ll see your thousand, and raise you another thousand." He grins around the cigar.
I lift my eyebrow in what appears to be just a quirk of annoyance. What I’m really doing is checking Sergei’s reaction to his brother’s outlandish bid. I see what I need to know, inwardly sigh, and toss my cards into the center of the table. "Fold."
Rabb wins again. I’m not going to completely finance his vacation. It was enough that I paid for the suite at the Monte Carlo Beach Hotel for the week. Not that I mind, and not that I can’t afford it. It’s my anniversary gift to Sarah. I sit back and let the Navy captain take on the Chairman of Daimler-Chrysler. Gazing around the casino, I try to spot her. Ah, yes. There she is, standing at the bar with Tatania Zhukov and Catherine Rabb. Damn, she looks good – she’s not showing yet, but then, she’s only ten weeks pregnant. I hope it’s a girl this time. Not that I don’t love the boys. Brian and Timothy are the joys of my existence; however, Sarah is my life.
We’re celebrating more than our fifth wedding anniversary. We’re celebrating the anniversary of the mission that seemed to bind our lives with the man across the table, as well as his brother. Harmon Rabb finally accepted that while Sarah MacKenzie would never leave him as a friend, she wanted and needed me as lover. Not that our return from Russia was all hale fellow and well met. He was standoffish for nearly a year – well, more like nine months, then like the proud father of the bride, when Brian Harmon Webb was delivered right on schedule, he was there in the labor room even after I finally showed up. He’s taken his godfather status very seriously. I know that if anything happens to me, he’ll be there for my family.
And now that he and Catherine Gale-Rabb have finally, remarkably, passed their own one-year anniversary, I can actually breathe a sigh of relief. He seems genuinely in love with her. Though Cat takes no crap from him – from me either, though I am her boss. Throughout their courtship and first year of marriage, their fights were the stuff of high gossip on the Hill, or at least at the CIA where she’s chief counsel and at JAG where Rabb now presides over the courtrooms as head judge in DC. Sarah tells me that Catherine’s pregnant too, and things at the Rabb house are now in nesting mode. We’ll see.
Gone are the days of the Rabb and Webb show. I’m ADCI now, and I seldom leave the country, unless the cock up is so bad a major presence is needed. But I don’t mind a bit. I’ve yet to miss a birthday or a birth, even though for Brian’s I had to commandeer an agency helicopter and land on the roof of Bethesda – damn Beltway traffic jams. Of course, the way Sarah pops the kids out, I’m surprised she made it to the hospital both times.
Sergei looks good. I’m glad I could get him to bring Tatania. His wife is very shy; she speaks no English. That’s not a problem for either Sarah or me, but Harm just seems so confused and a little upset every time he tries to talk to his sister-in-law. Even Catherine is fluent in the language.
I offered to fly Alexi out too, but he declined. He finally retired and moved to South Beach to be with his sister. Sarah and I went to the funeral of his mother two years ago. He seems happy enough. ‘No snow. It never gets cold here. What a country!’ I think he’d just seen that Russian comedian or something. As part of his retirement package, I bought him a medallion and a new cab. Even now, he keeps an eye out on activities down there for me.
The other person missing is Mark Sokol. Since that day in the jazz club on the outskirts of Moscow, I’ve had no word of either him or Alana. I was never able to exact my revenge on her father. I lost no sleep when I heard that he died when his car blew up. I have no idea if Sokol took the matter into his own hands. I never cared – though the fact that I should’ve cared a little bothers me. As if reading my mind, my wife looks up and meets my gaze. There’s a question in her eyes, but I give her a brief smile to let her know that everything’s just fine.
Damn, she’s beautiful. Even after two kids, even being pregnant, she’s still the best looking woman in the room. I insisted on stopping in Paris before we arrived, and bought her a killer dress. It’s black and demure – in front. From behind, you can see everything down to the small of her back. I have no idea about the inner workings or how she goes without a bra, but I’ll find out later tonight. She says something to Catherine and Tatania, and leaves them at the bar.
"You’re a very lucky man, Captain Rabb," the Chairman says as he, too, concedes Harm’s luck. I’m not sure, but Harm probably just made enough to extend both his and Sergei’s vacations.
I’m glad that I was able to approve the expenditure to outright buy the company that Sergei’s been working at for the last six years. I couldn’t be happier that he’s learned enough to take control. I have a good asset, and it’s nice to know that Sergei and Tatania’s children will have a little bit easier of a time of it than their parents – if things don’t go to hell in Russia. And with Russia, you just never know.
"Well Mr. Bond, you appear to be having a run of bad luck." Her whisper caresses my ear; her breast glazes my shoulder.
"Care to change it for me?" I smirk as Rabb just rolls his eyes. My pile of chips won’t get me through the next hand. "Never mind; let me buy you a drink, pretty lady."
"Oh, brother." Rabb takes up the cards and begins to shuffle. "Who’s in?"
"I’ll play a hand or two." Sergei sits down in my chair and pulls out a roll that I never suspected he had. He gives me a wink and hands me my chips. Hell, I was going to leave them for him. I really need to stop babying the Rabb boys. It appears that they can both take care of themselves without my intervention.
I allow her to lead me over to the bar. "Martini? Shaken, not stirred."
"Cute, Sarah. Scotch," I tell the bartender. I look around the room and smile.
"Can we get some fresh air?" she whispers with a promise in her voice.
I give her my arm, and together we walk out into the warm Mediterranean evening. We find a secluded spot and I pull her to me. There are few things in life better than kissing my wife; all those things still include her. And thinking about it, those things usually include kissing, too. "I love you." I nuzzle her neck and she nips at mine before turning to lean against me so she can watch the harbor lights below us.
"This is the best anniversary yet." She sighs and tilts her head, exposing that incredibly long neck to me. I kiss it, just above where the silver necklace that I gave her in San Diego rests. She insisted on a silver platinum setting for her engagement ring and wedding band. Besides the occasional earrings, that’s the only jewelry she wears. I stopped buying her expensive pieces for her birthday. I make up for it in other ways. It’s really fun spoiling her. She won’t let me spoil the boys, and that’s a good thing.
"I thought you liked Tahiti the best."
Her shrug sends a jolt straight to my cock, and I consider the possibility of taking her right here. It’s not like we haven’t done it in public. Hell, I almost feel honor bound to try. My arms are wrapped around her, my hands rest gently over her stomach. I begin to trace circles over the shimmering material.
"You didn’t like Tahiti after all?" I say for no other reason than I love to hear her talk.
"You know I did, but I was missing Brian."
"And you don’t miss him – and Timmy – now?"
She rocks against my growing erection. Oh, yeah. She’s in the mood. Now, where can we go? The sailboat I rented is definitely too far away.
"Of course I miss them both, it’s just… oh, Clay," she gasps, as my hand cups her breast. They’re already fuller, more sensitive. I love her pregnant, but I miss being able to do this once she starts producing milk. I’m glad she only nurses for six weeks.
I take it nice and slow, kissing her neck. She arches back, and I claim her lips, however when she tries to turn to me, I hold her tighter, pausing in my ministrations. "It’s so good to be alone with you out here. I mean, I’m glad Harm and Sergei could come, but alone is better," I whisper.
She moans softly. "Oh, yes."
The evening, her scent, her touch dredges up a memory nearly thirty years old. During my first year of Harvard, I had an English teacher from the old school. We studied the classic poems, and out of sheer desperation I chose Emily Dickinson over Shakespeare. In my entire life I’ve never quoted a poem to a woman. But now it just seems so right.
"I have no life but this,
To lead it here;
Nor any death, but lest
Dispelled from there;
Nor tie to earths to come,
Nor action new,
Except through this extent,
The Realm of You!"
I’m as embarrassed as I can be, and my hands stop their tattoo on her body. She’s grown very still, and when she turns to me, I don’t need to see her to know she’s crying. "Oh, Clay." Her lips fuse with mine and her arms wrap around my neck. My hands really don’t need my mind engaged to know exactly how to pleasure her. Earlier this evening, when we were dressing, she relegated me to the second cabin. "I need room to dress." Of course, it was a dodge. The woman’s a former Marine, the best damn litigator on the Hill, a senior partner at MacKenzie and Roberts. She can do damn near anything she puts her mind to. And tonight, she decided to surprise me.
"Oh Jesus, Sarah." I sigh as I caress her smooth – bare! – hips. "Going commando, my dear?" My fingers trace the line of her crack.
She moans into my mouth and lifts her leg along my thigh, but it isn’t enough. Instead, I spin her around. My hand returns to the inside of her dress to hold her. "God, what you do to me, Sarah. After five years, two kids and countless fights, I still need you. I still need to be able to do this."
Her ass is grinding into my cock, and I know we’re going to need to get a room here tonight. Even as I’m stroking her clit, my other hand is bypassing the support systems she’s found to support her breasts. "Clay. Clay. Oh, so good. Please. Right here." She’s reaching behind me, trying to get at my pants when she suddenly goes rigid, her orgasm surprising her. "Oh!… Yesssssssss." Her moan floats out toward the harbor, and I have to hold her tight to keep her from falling. She collapses against me, her head resting against my shoulder. "You’re getting pretty damn good at that."
"Yeah, I start stuff I can’t seem to finish."
"Oh, I’ll finish you. Come here."
Evidently the Marine’s been doing her own recon, and she leads me to grouping of potted palms and flowering hibiscus. "Baby, we can wait a bit," I say as she starts to sink to the ground before me. "I’ll get a room."
"Can’t, silly." She pulls down my zipper to release my straining erection. "Remember?" She reaches inside and pulls my balls free. "We’re having dinner at that new place. Sergei told us about it."
"Do we have time?" God, I hope we have time. Her tongue is toying with my slit, swirling the moisture already forming there around my cock head.
She snorts delicately. "Forget who you’re married to, buster? We’ve exactly twelve minutes, thirty-seven seconds."
"Oh, God!" All thoughts of dinner, new restaurants, and her remarkable ability to tell time, flee my consciousness as she engulfs me into the hot wet recess of her mouth. My hands rest on her head. I never force her; never take control. She’s honed this skill well during five years of marriage. I can’t imagine granting anyone else this much trust. She knows just how to work me, how to prolong my pleasure. Her tongue charts the course of the thick vein running the length of my cock. Her fingers explore that oh so damn sensitive spot just behind my balls. I focus on the harbor lights twinkling through the dense foliage as I slowly spin out of control. I can’t help but try to thrust, but she knows how to control that, too. It costs me dearly, she releases my balls and both hands grip my hips. And she swallows me whole. Now her throat muscles take over the chore, and I’m over the edge. Whatever control I still cling to, I put into not shouting out for Prince Edward, in the royal palace, to hear.
I pull her up to rest against me. My mouth finds hers, and we recline against the wall as I regain control of the rest of my body. "Woman, you are a wonder."
"You have no idea." She smirks and reaches behind me. She steps back, and the dim light reflects off the tall glass.
"You minx! You planned this." I accept the glass after she’s drunk half the contents. I’ve come to appreciate the taste of tonic and lime.
"Of course. Five years with you has taught me something." She dusts off the front of her dress. "Handkerchief?"
"Of course." I reach in and had it to her.
Once we’re put back together, I lead her back inside.
"Perfect timing, as always." She stole her smirk from me. It looks better on her. Rabb and Sergei have left the table. Rabb has a triumphant look on his face. Sergei looks impressed. Tatania doesn’t look angry, so I guess he didn’t loose too much.
"Hey, you guys. Ready?" Rabb asks. The smile makes him look years younger. He reminds me of the young idealistic lawyer I met thirteen years ago.
"You got it, flyboy." Sarah gives him the sweet smile that she always does. In five years I haven’t been jealous of that smile. They’re friends, and I accepted it from the beginning. I’m not sure that Catherine has completely, but Sarah’s never once given Rabb’s wife any reason to doubt his fidelity.
Funny though, the look that Catherine’s giving Sarah right now doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the arm linked tightly through Rabb’s. It can only be described as awe. From the sweeping look she gives me, I have to fight the urge to check my zipper. However, I distinctly remember Sarah taking care of that. My glance at Tatania confirms my suspicions. Instead of awe, the shy, quiet wife of Sergei Zhukov glances first at Sarah, then at me, then, she turns her speculative look toward her husband.
"What did you do, invite them out to give them lessons, darling?" I whisper as she leads me through the lobby to the waiting limo.
"Don’t be silly, Clay." She looks back at me before climbing into the car.
"They knew!"
Her shrug is expressive, but she says nothing until I follow her into the backseat. Just as Catherine’s following us, Sarah continues. "I was just teaching them a quick lesson." Catherine freezes, her eyes rather reminiscent of Rabb’s when he’s shocked. "Never give a Marine a dare."
"Move it, Cat!" Rabb gently takes his wife’s hips in hand and moves her into the seat across from us. Tatania and Sergei follow. Tatania points to the spot next to Harm. "Sit there, Sergei. I wish to speak with Sarah."
Poor Rabb, he’s the only one in the car who doesn’t speak Russian. Of course, from the growing shock on Sergei’s face, I rather suspect that he – and I – wish that he didn’t.
"So. You truly did this thing?"
Sarah smiles at her. "Yes."
"Outside?"
"Yes."
Tatania leans forward and glares at me. "And he does not think… less of you for doing this, this, act… outside?"
Sarah bites her lips and looks at me, her eyebrow rising delicately in question. "Well, darling?"
"Hey you guys. Someone translate for me."
"Later, honey." Catherine takes his hand, but it’s the appraising look she gives him that finally makes him understand the gist of the conversation. He didn’t get to where he is by being stupid.
"Oh, man. What did you two do this time? I’m telling you, I’m not bailing you out of jail for indecent behavior."
"Rabb, for pete’s sake, it’s the Rivera," I scoff. Then I turn to Tatania. "I have nothing but love and respect for this woman. What two people do together…" I look over at Rabb and sigh… "as long as no one else is hurt or offended by it, is their business and only their business."
Sergei still looks confused, unable to make the leap, however at Tatania’s renewed appraisal, he blushes to the roots of his blond hair.
"So," Catherine says, firmly returning the conversation to a more genteel level. "Tell me about this restaurant."
Rabb shrugs and looks at me. I look at Sarah who looks at Sergei. "I believe this was Sergei’s idea."
I swear he’s blushing redder than before. "I… I heard from a friend that it’s a very good spot. Very new. Quite popular with the locals. The prince dines there."
"If it’s so popular, how did we get seating during the height of the late dinner rush in the middle of the season?" Something’s not right, but I can’t figure out what.
There’s that shrug of his. "Sarah got lucky, I guess."
"Uh-huh." Rabb and I are eyeing him, but Sarah nudges me.
"Stop it."
"Oh, fine." What’s she planning?
The restaurant’s down a street so narrow that the limo has to let us out at the passageway. "Will you be okay, Mr. Webb?" My driver and bodyguard, looks worried.
"I’m fine, Jack." I pat my side, indicating that I packed my gun. Then I jerk my head at Sarah. "The Marine will protect me."
Jack gives Sarah a conspiratorial wink. They’re used to each other. At first, she didn’t appreciate the fact that my position as the number-two man at the agency came complete with protection. She’s never once relinquished the boys to their care. She drives Brian to school and Timothy to his playgroups. The bodyguards follow behind her. I don’t know if she’s figured out that the car itself has a homing device.
Now, I lead her and the rest into the small restaurant. The décor is modern and almost sparse. Very reminiscent of that first restaurant we dined at in San Diego. The only difference being there’s no view of the ocean from here.
"Clay?"
"You see it, too."
"It’s beautiful."
A young woman with dark brown haired comes up to us. "You have a reservation?" Her accent is what gives it away. I stare at her. The scars are very faint. Alana’s eyes lock on Sarah’s and widen in fear. Sarah grips my arm so tightly I think she might draw blood through the tux jacket.
Sarah had made the reservation, and she knows to never make them under our real name. "Bond." I swear to God, I’ve never heard her make that kind of sound before.
Rabb notices the sound but cracks wise. "Oh cute, Mac. Sheesh. Who do I get to be? Pappy Boyington?"
"Well, darling, you certainly are the black sheep of JAG." Catherine has truly shocked him.
"How’d you know…"
"Oh please, my father used to watch that old show religiously." Their banter has allowed Alana to regain her calm façade. Even as they continue speaking, Alana gestures for us to follow her.
"Yeah, Frank did, too. I don’t know if he really liked it, or thought he was doing me a favor." Harm smiles at his wife with true affection.
Alana leads us to the back of the restaurant. A private room is waiting for us. I go inside to check it out. I’m surprised to feel Harm right behind me. "Clay? Is it just me or…"
He’s always been more alert than I’ve given him credit for. "No, it’s Alana."
"Oh, shit. Is this a set up?"
Alana just stands there, a frightened look on her face. No. That’s sheer terror if I’ve ever seen it. "I don’t think so. Look at her."
I look under the table, feel around the chairs and then, carefully check the floral arrangement. Alana lifts her head in stubborn pride. "You do not like the room, Mr… Bond? Perhaps another restaurant would suit you better?"
I meet her gaze, but before I can say anything, Sergei enters the room. "No, Aliska," he says, using a diminutive I wouldn’t have associated with her. "This is just fine. Clayton, Harmon, please sit down. Ladies?" He ushers in the women who are now exchanging confused, worried glances. After we’re all settled, Sergei says to her in Russian, "Bring a bottle of good vodka and glasses, iced tea for the ladies."
She nods and quickly leaves. As he sits down, he takes out an envelope from the inner pocket of his tuxedo. "Read this Clayton. Then if you’re still angry, you may yell at me."
"You knew?" My eyes narrow. How dare he betray me like this? He owes me his… I stop the thought before it’s fully formed. Taking a deep breath to calm down, Sarah’s hand on my arm doesn’t hurt anymore. I reach out for the envelope. The rest of them take chairs and silently wait as I read:
"Boss, don’t be mad at Sergei. I made him do it. And don’t be mad at our mutual friend. He’s a good man who made a decision much as you would have made had the woman in question been the pretty Colonel. (She will always be the ‘pretty Colonel’ to me, so forgive my forwardness.)
Six months ago, our mutual friend was in Miami. You must believe that this is fate, boss. Why else would our mutual friend be in the city that I drive a cab in? Why else would I be next in line at the airport? We talked for a long time, and met later that night when I ended my shift and he was done with his meetings. He told me all about his life since he left Mother Russia. It has been hard, but he’s made a new life for himself in Monte Carlo. I thought you should know, not to bring grief down upon him, but so that you can, in some small way, protect him.
When you come to Miami next, bring your family. I will drive you everywhere."
And, of course, it’s unsigned.
I drop the letter on the table. Harm reaches out for it, but Sarah beats him too it. He leans in, and together, the two former partners, quickly read it. Sarah just sniffs. She always gets a bit more emotional when she’s pregnant. Harm makes a rude noise. Only Catherine looks to me for advice. "Can I read it?"
I lift my shoulders and drop them. "Nothing there. What do you know about what happened in Russia?"
Her eyes widen a bit. She glances at Harm, unsure of what she can say. I wonder if he broke any rules. Of course he did. He’s Harm and will never change.
Before she can answer me though, the door opens. Frankly, I wouldn’t have recognized him on the street if I didn’t expect to see him. He’s lost a lot of weight; probably too much. He never dressed like a slouch, but now he’s in designer clothes from suit to shoes. He brings in a tray with a bottle of Cristall. A glass bowl, filled with ice holding four thin glasses filled with the clear liquid sits beside it. A bus boy carrying a tray with three glasses and a pitcher of iced tea follows him. The boy quickly leaves, and Mark Sokol waits a beat after the door closes. "Mr. Bond, welcome to my restaurant. I’m Charles Phillipe." He says this all in perfect French. Once again, Harm just looks confused.
For a long moment, I’m unsure of what to do. Sarah sits quietly beside me. I know what she wants of me. Five years have passed. Dosivitch is dead. There’s a new, more ruthless leader of the Russian mob, though this one seems content to leave the current ruler alone. I should get up, leave and go to the nearest… the nearest what? Who really gives a damn? After all these years, the Russians certainly don’t need to deal with him. What am I going to do? Kill him in cold blood? Because that’s what it would be. Even if I had another operative do it, it would still be on my hands. There’s enough blood there. I lean back and study him. He doesn’t squirm, he’s probably calculating his bank balance and if he has enough to take Alana with him, or if he should leave her here.
"You have a very nice place, Mr. Phillipe," I answer him in French. "Have you been here long?"
"Three months." His eyes are narrowed, I’ve got him wondering.
"Business is good?" From anyone else, I’m sure he would expect a shake down.
He toggles his hand back and forth. "Starting a new restaurant is always a risky business. But at least we won’t starve."
"At least there is that. Your wife helps you?"
I see the fierce determination in his eyes. Even now, he will protect Alana against all harm. "Yes."
I can see the similarities between us. "That’s good," I say, taking Sarah’s hand in mine. "It’s a good thing to have your wife close at hand."
He nods in understanding. He sets down the tray with the vodka and hands each of the men a glass. "To the ladies."
It’s an old toast, one that works well when adversaries get together. The men all raise their glasses and repeat the toast. The ladies in question, at least Catherine and Sarah, just roll their eyes. Tatania asks, "What is happening?"
And in time-honored fashion, Sergei takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "I will explain later, love."
The food is excellent, and when I try to pay the bill, the waiter just shrugs his shoulders. "Mssr. Phillipe has taken care of it, sir."
I look over at Harm. "Would you and Sergei mind walking the ladies to the limo. I’ll see you in a moment."
And of course, Sarah stays by my side. "We’ll be there soon."
Harm really looks like he wants to balk, but Catherine gets a determined look on her face. "Harm, come on. I don’t think I should be here."
"Fine," he sighs, but his parting look at me says he’s not going to leave me alone until I tell him everything. Terrific, another lie. If I were a Catholic, I’d spend all of my free time in confession.
We only wait a moment before the door to the private room reopens. Sokol walks in but stops when he sees I’m not alone. "Sarah?"
"Not going to happen, Mark. Say your peace, I’m watching my husband’s back."
He looks at her in admiration. "What? You think I set this up?"
She snorts. "Of course."
I love my wife. I think I’ve mentioned that. However, it’s time for me to take control. "Did you honestly think I’d buy that note?"
"Why not? It’s legitimate."
"So you’re saying that Alexi’s in on it, too?"
He takes a deep breath. "Actually, no. But then Alexi’s come to realize that there’s a God, and that he lives in Southern Florida. Alexi was easier to convince of my sincerity."
"And he’s the one who told you we were spending our anniversary here?"
"No, of course not. I found that out the good old fashioned way." He smiles at Sarah. "I hacked your travel agent’s computer."
"We didn’t use…"
Sarah’s hand on my arm stops me. She’s blushing a bright red. "Actually, I used Connie. You know, my old friend from college."
"We’ll talk later," I hiss. I’ve told her to go through the Agency!
"Don’t blame Sarah. I would’ve contacted you earlier, however, when I found out that you were taking your annual two-week sail through the Mediterranean, I decided I could wait."
"Fine! For what? What do you want? I think that whatever you and I owed each other was pretty much evened out in Moscow five years ago."
"Of course it was. Now, I have something else."
"Tough. Look… Charlie!" He cringes at my tone and the name. "I can’t help you."
"Yes, you can. And, as with all really good business arrangements, I can help you."
"No!" I turn and take Sarah’s hand. "We were never here. I won’t be back."
"No, but Mickey O’Connell will." Leave it to Sokol to name the one non-Arab terrorist we want more than anyone else. And even from the cool sound in his voice, I’m betting it’s legit.
I don’t turn around. "Damn you. You’re sure?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
His rueful laugh finally turns me around. "Sarah?"
This time she doesn’t argue. She knows the game; she also accepts that this is truly business now. "I’ll wait for you in the car." She kisses my cheek and leaves without saying goodbye to Sokol. A sad look flickers in his eyes, but they turn cold again.
Twenty minutes later, I’m climbing in next to her. The limo is silent. Sergei looks like Sarah read him the riot act. Tatania has been crying and Catherine looks like she should be making a phone call, only she has no idea to whom.
"Okay everyone, it was a minor detour on the trip. Everything’s fine. Sergei, you were played by the best."
"I didn’t think Alexi…"
"Alexi is good; Mark is better."
"What happened, Clay!?" Harm demands.
"Classified, my friend."
Sarah instantly relaxes and smiles at Catherine. "We’re back to normal."
"Boss?" Catherine is adroit at keeping her work and private lives separate.
"Nothing. It took one phone call. The Rome section chief is flying out tomorrow." I smile at Sarah. "You’ll shop?"
"Maybe read."
"But after one quick get-to-know-the-players meeting, I’m back on vacation. Don’t worry, Catherine, everything is SOP."
"That would be FUBAR?"
"Not yet."
"You know, the scary thing?" Harm interjects.
"What’s that?"
"I think I know what’s going on. What happened? Sokol used his entire financial safety net on the restaurant and setting up a new life? He found out something interesting and decided to sell it? Or better yet, he wants to be on the payroll."
I stare at him in wonder. Damn, he’s been around me too long. At least I don’t have to lie to him now.
"Honey?" Catherine takes his hand, drawing his attention to her. "You best quit while you’re ahead."
"Why? Because if I get it right, he’ll have to kill me?"
"No, Harm." I smirk, as I wrap my arm around Sarah. "You keep getting it right, and I’ll have you assigned to the CIA."
I expect him to make a disparaging remark. However, what I see is a gleam in his eye. I hadn’t really realized how bored he must get, sitting on the bench. We pull up in front of the hotel. Sergei gets out and helps Tatania to the pavement. Harm gives me a long appraising look before he steps outside. Catherine is the last to leave, and the look she gives me speaks volumes.
"Don’t worry, Cat," Sarah says calmly. "It’ll never happen."
"Better not… Clay." She slams the car door with emphasizing force.
"Home, James!" I say into the microphone. Flopping back against the rich leather, I pull her with me. "You know, I guess I should feel grateful."
"Why’s that?" She rests her head on my chest, wrapping her arm around me.
"Five vacations we’ve taken, and this is the first time business has intruded."
She lifts her head to meet my gaze. Tugging at my tie until the ends hang down, she rises up to demand a kiss.
When she returns her head to my chest, my fingers play in her hair. As we’re driven toward the harbor where the sailboat is docked, I smile in contentment. It will be okay. Barstow will come out, I’ll introduce the two and then, we’ll set sail just like we do each year.
Five times we’ve managed to leave, first just Brian, then both boys, with Mother, or as we did this year, with Harriet and Bud Roberts. We rent a sailboat, usually one much bigger and nicer than our ‘weekend’ sloop, ‘The Tinman.’ She really wasn’t happy with the name, but when I told her the only other name I could come up with was ‘The Sarah,’ she just glared and me and said, ‘Next time, I get to name it.’
"Tomorrow, when I get back, where do you want to go first? I figure we’ll set sail on the evening tide."
"Don’t jinx it, Clay." She says it so seriously. She’s worried, and I know better than to talk her out of it.
"Well, just be thinking about it, then."
"You won’t…"
"I shouldn’t have to…"
But the tension is there. She’s worried, and I’m no longer grateful that this is the first time my job has intruded. I’m just pissed that it has intruded now. Jack pulls up at the pier, and Sarah gets out without waiting for me. I follow her down to the slip. The gate is locked, and I pat my pockets for the key. "Where is it?"
"Wait. I have it." She opens the tiny purse she carried more for show than for any real need. As she’s closing it again, we hear a clank.
"Don’t let it fall in the water!" she cries.
I crouch down, and sure enough, it did fall between the slats, but it’s resting on a crossbeam. "I see it."
"Get it!" There’s real panic in her voice, and I look around expecting to see half the terrorists in the world bearing down on us.
"Sarah! Calm down." I have to lie down prone and work my fingers through the slats. I can just barely reach it. "It’s not like we can’t get another one."
"Please, Clay. Don’t lose it." Tears are in her voice. Damned hormones.
Finally, I scissor it up, but something snags it. I hold my breath when I lose it, but it just rests back where it was. "What the hell do you have with it? There’s no reason to bring any other keys. It’s not like it makes any sense to lock your cases for the plane. Got it."
"Don’t drop it!"
I clutch the damn thing like it’s the Hope Diamond. What did you do? I hold up the key in the light, and tears come to my eyes. There, dangling from the key to the dock of the million-dollar sailboat, a mother gorilla and her baby smile back at me.
She’s kept it all these years. I can still read the inscription: San Diego Zoo. Only now, there are teething marks marring the edges.
Carefully, I stand and unlock the gate. Not until we’re on board and below, do I hand it back to her. We don’t say a word, but just gaze at it together. "Of all the gifts you’ve given me…" Our lips meet for a long sweet kiss.
"Tomorrow, before the tide goes out – I promise."
~~~Fini~~