Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(39)

"Rafe," I began. If he wanted my story, he had to understand how uncomfortable that was.

"When we're together like this and nobody watches or listens, call me Ilya. That is the name I want to hear you cry out when we make love."

"Ilya, I love that name, first off. Second, I want to tell you, but I have to prepare myself for it. Does that make sense? Something else you ought to know—I haven't had sex in a very, very, long time."

"First off, thank you. Second, I understand. Third, that will only make it sweeter."

"What simple question can I answer that will keep you for now?" I asked.

"How old?"

"Seventy-three."

"Perfect." He kissed me again.

*

While we worked on our second glasses of Scotch, we turned to business. "What trouble do you think might come from Cutter being relieved of his duties?" Ilya asked.

"He's connected to several organizations, some of whom find no difficulty in pumping money into campaigns," I said. "If he'd been named Vice President, that would have made things simpler for him to get the nomination."

"But that would mean the President," he began.

"I think that's tied up in all this," I said. "I have absolutely no proof that the President is a target, but it makes sense to me. Plus, if Cutter thinks I'm a witch, well, you can imagine what the people who back him think. As backward as he is, they're a hundred times worse. They'd like to unleash an inquisition here and now, to bring the country in line with their political and religious views."

"How do you know this?"

"I did some research in the past five years. I've been looking for the ones responsible for that attack in France. Sometimes the trails led in different directions. Somehow, there's a network out there, and I can't explain who's behind it or how it's connected, even."

"How did you do this research without Colonel Hunter or the others knowing?"

"Library computer system," I said. "I paid several people cash at the library to do research for me. My name isn't attached to any of it, and the people I hired thought I was doing research for a book. Printed photographs can be helpful, if the printer is good enough."

"Where is all the research?"

"I had to trash it, so nobody would know what I was doing. I really need those photographs of Mary Evans, or whatever her name is," I said, sipping my Scotch and ginger ale. "I think she may be connected somehow with the puppet masters who are stringing all of us along."

"This is more frightening than I thought," Ilya murmured.

"This government does business with those who can provide security services in Afghanistan and other Middle Eastern countries. They employ a lot of ex-military personnel. It's like the U.S. military is college, and the security services are the pro leagues."

"This I already knew," he nodded. "These are connected to those who want Cutter in office?"

"Yes. They have tons of money, and they can dump any amount they want into a campaign and barely feel it. Other business concerns are out there, willing to do the same thing."

"You think they want to control legislation and elected officials?"

"Yeah. They just don't want to get their hands dirty doing it, so they have to hire somebody else to do it for them. Somebody very, very good. Somebody able to steal the crown jewels from the Tower of London good."

"And Mary Evans is connected to this?"

"I think so."

"I think so, too."

*

Rafe didn't allow me to slack off in running, Krav Maga or weight lifting. He did kiss me while we made breakfast, though. Then he proceeded to give me a solid trouncing in Krav Maga.

James spotted him in weight training, as he usually did, but gave me a wicked grin while I lifted ten and twenty-pound weights nearby. I wanted to tell him to save the grin—I hadn't done anything to warrant it.

Yet.

"Colonel Hunter wants a meeting with you two, Maye and Nick tonight. Dinner at seven in the restaurant downstairs," James said when we were done.

Auggie wanted to talk about the funeral scheduled for the following day.

"We'll be there," Rafe said. "Come on, you. You need a bath." Hooking an arm around my neck, he propelled me out of the weight room.

*

Lunch came after a nice shower. No, it wasn't together. Rafe went to his suite; I went to mine. We met in the kitchen, clean, hair damp and hungry for lunch.

"What are your plans this afternoon?" he asked. "Want an omelette?"

"Omelette sounds good," I agreed. "I need to work on the book."

"You need to stop worrying about tomorrow."

"I can do that by writing."

"I have a better idea."

"Checkers?"

"Fucking."

"Gets right to the point. I like that," I said. "Want me to chop onions and tomatoes?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

*

"Cabbage, time to wake up."

"Hmmm?"

"Dinner in an hour. We have time to shower and dress."

"Do I have to move? I like it here."