I checked my rear-view mirror as I pulled into my driveway.
Yup, I had perspiration on my upper lip. Good thing Judie couldn’t see the flush on my cheeks too.
“So did you tell him who you were?”
“Not on your life.”
“So that’s it? You met him, what, and then walked away?”
I saw myself hanging off the bed as he buried his face in my crotch. I could feel the smooth grey carpet with my fingertips, my back arched, my knees bent and spread wide for him. I didn’t walk away. I floated away. I vibrated all the way down the elevator. If I’d bumped into anyone, we would have both burst into flames, with how hot I was.
“Yes, I met him, and left my phone number. If he wants to see me, he’ll call. But the next step is up to him. I just wanted to meet him and not have him feel obligated to talk to me because of Em. And he didn’t figure it out. Like I said, he was a real gentleman.”
I had him in my mouth as his fingers lazily messed my hair in all directions. I pretended to hear him whisper, “Oh, sweetheart,” which of course didn’t really happen. But I got him harder again after our second or third round, and he showed his appreciation thoroughly afterwards.
“You surprise me, Shannon. From all the talk—”
“What do you take me for, Judie?”
Again, my lies were making me a bit careless. But I couldn’t help thinking he’d recognize the scent of my body, too, if I were to casually pass him by in some hallway. That he’d be moved to slip me into a broom closet or bathroom for something dangerous and quick.
I was every bit the slut she was thinking of. I was desperate to prove it too.
No, something had been unleashed, and things were never going to be the same again. But that had been what I was looking for all along. I walked around like a marionette, my wrists and ankles tied with invisible golden threads pulling me back to Boston where I would watch the twinkle lights of the city until I could no longer focus.
Judie paused. “You’re kinda breathing hard, Shannon. Are you okay?”
“Never better.”
Chapter 5
Marco
I took two days, reviewing the numbers carefully, and could see how Frank would come to the conclusion I needed to unload one of my entities in order to save the rest. My net worth was less than half what it had been before the divorce and resulting proceedings, something I hadn’t wanted to look at in black and white until now, but the biggest problem was that my much-needed cash flow had been consumed with legal fees and other restructuring necessary to protect me and the rest of my assets. All that would be on-going. And now she wanted the Florida project, the one entity that wasn’t going to make me money, but was the one thing I felt the most passionately about: getting homes for disabled Navy SEALs.
I scoured the balance sheets, searched my records for details he’d given me online, backing up the summaries he’d presented. I looked for a flaw in his analysis.
I didn’t find one.
As I’d learned from my training, I began coming up with a plan by first filling out the knowns and identifying the huge gaps and unknowns before coming up with the plan I could dive feet first into. The list was growing the more I brainstormed. Prioritizing the most important, I began checking off the items as fast as I could re-allocate them, sometimes even changing their value. We used to do this all the time on the Teams, checking and re-checking targets and assets, evaluating and re-evaluating methods and task details. A successful mission was all about identifying the strategy needed so we wouldn’t have to think—we could just execute the plan. And all of it was always heavily dependent on the quality of the information used to create the plan in the first place. That’s what I was going for. Accuracy. Facts. Looking for problems and potential pitfalls so nothing would be unaccounted for.
I spoke to several department heads and called a board meeting in D.C. for early next week, when I hoped to have a decision made so I could announce our new direction. I needed to touch base with my attorney about the new subpoena. I toyed with the idea of flying down to Florida to meet with the non-profit group working on the housing project, just to take their temperature and perhaps warn them.
The comment Senator Campbell made bothered me, and I knew shirking that phone call would be a mistake. My heart and my gut weren’t up to it, but I manned up and dialed his personal number.
“Hey, Marco. Long time no hear. You still got all your arms and legs intact?”
I had been trained never to show emotion, so, even on the phone I wasn’t going to wince because I knew he’d hear it in my voice.
“I picked her for all the wrong reasons, Senator. Thing is, I can admit a mistake when I’ve made one, and this one was colossal. But not fatal. You know what they say about a wounded bear?”
Campbell had a belly laugh at that one. “Glad to say I don’t share your experience, Marco, knock on wood. Beth and I have been happily married for nearly twenty-four years.” He paused carefully, taking in a deep breath. “Frank told me about your meeting on Tuesday, and he mentioned he brought up my offer to make introductions to the sultan of Bonin. He said you might consider speaking with him.”
“I am willing to listen. No promises.”
“Of course. I think he’s been around long enough to understand this. But he is rather persistent and insisted that the two of you discuss your mutual futures in person.”
I suspected the sultan was a heavy contributor to the Senator’s re-election campaign. Whatever mutual future there was between the sultan and I would no doubt include the Senator as well.
“As I said, no promises. But yes, I’ll speak with him.”
“Good. That’s good, Marco. I know you are busy, but when can I tell him you’d be available and are you willing to travel?”
I knew it would be far easier for me to travel with a small contingent than for the sultan to come with his harem, his princelings and several of his grandchildren. I also knew that I could slip in and out easier than he ever could, so our meeting could truly be done in secret. I agreed to let the senator arrange a meeting at one of the sultan’s properties, a luxurious palace on one of the islands in the Indian Ocean. I’d been there before once when I was still on the Teams and we helped with a sweep of the grounds when a suspected terrorist was smuggled there. We captured the bastard in a storage closet at the sultan’s enormous kitchen. The terrorist saved us a lot of time and trouble too, since his interrogation was done in secret aboard a Naval vessel nearby.
I could arrange the transportation, thereby ensuring my safety, if the sultan could agree to the airdrop and the exact timing. Senator Campbell promised to get back to me within 24 hours. I asked him for permission to use Naval assets if need be for landing and he said he’d arrange it.
Checking contract scheduling, I noticed I had a Little Bird, my pet nickname for one of my favorite little Sikorskys, safely stored in the Maldives. That might give me some luck with Diego Garcia friendlies, and besides, the Navy owed me some serious favors. If I could piggyback, an Indian Ocean meeting was entirely possible, and wouldn’t require much in the way of expense.
So I was boxing myself in, fixing myself up not to be able to say no, since Senator Campbell had some serious Armed Services creds. But more importantly, his wife was the younger sister of the First Lady, which had even more weight.