The experience had not been the happiest of his life. And he was not interested in a repeat.
That being said, generally flying businessmen around was… unsatisfying. Oh, it paid well enough, but it was a bit like being an aerial bus driver. Not quite like flying a Tornado balls to the wall down a Balkans valley filled with flak.
Flying “Mr. Jenkins” around was rarely boring. Bit too exciting at times, but rarely boring.
“No issues this time,” Mike said, grinning and slipping by him to board the aircraft. “Cross my heart. Just a quick trip to DC then back.”
“And Miss Rakovich,” Hardesty said, not deigning to comment. “Beautiful as always.”
“I did not think you’d remember me,” Anastasia said, dimpling prettily and nodding as she boarded. Her only previous flight had been on either this Gulfstream or one identical to it, with Hardesty piloting.
“I could never forget a lady so beautiful in both face and spirit,” Hardesty replied. “If we’re all loaded?” he continued, checking where the Keldara had been putting the bags in what he referred to as the “boot.”
“Think so,” Mike replied. “Only two rocket launchers and hardly any explosives at all this time.”
“You are pleased to jest,” the pilot said. “I’ve got a flight-plan filed for DC. Winds may be against us over the Atlantic but otherwise smooth. Flight time of about twenty-hours, mind.”
“Works,” Mike said. “I’m gonna flake out most of the trip.”
“And Miss Rakovich,” Hardesty added. “I will endeavor for a smooth take-off and climb-out.”
“Thank you,” Anastasia said, buckling herself in. She had rarely flown and did not enjoy the experience. Especially any “unexpected” movement.
“Off we go again,” Mike said, taking her hand as the engines started.
“At least this time I’ve got some idea what is going on,” Anastasia said. “And are we going to ‘play’ again?” she continued, coyly.
“Oh, a bit more than the last time,” Mike said, smiling but not looking at her. “Definitely. I’m not sure a blow-job counts for the Mile-High club. I want my stamp.”
Anastasia continued to hold his hand as the plane taxied to the runway and then took off at which point it clamped like a vice. True to his word, Hardesty was taking it smooth and easy. A Gulfstream, as lightly loaded as this one, could point darned near straight up and Hardesty loved to fly at the edge of the envelope. But he also was both professional and considerate. If Mike, who apparently didn’t care, was the only one on board they’d have taken off like a fighter climbing out of a bombing run. With “Miss Rakovich” on board, he took it easy.
Anastasia, nonetheless, kept her eyes tightly closed and hand clamped until they were at altitude and flying smoothly. Then she took a breath, opened her eyes and released her death-grip.
“You really don’t have to travel with me, if you hate it that much,” Mike said.
“I want to,” Anastasia said, shrugging. “I want to see. But I fear as well. I won’t say I’ll get over it but I’m not willing to let the fear stop me.”
“Hoorah,’ Mike said, quietly, smiling at her. “Take not counsel of your fears.”
“Yes,” Anastasia said. “And on that score… I want to talk to you about… Gretchen.”
“Oh, Christ,” Mike said. “I thought the hareem manager wasn’t supposed to get jealous.”
“I am not jealous,” Anastasia said, evenly. “But… You’re acting different. I can tell something happened. Beyond the slight… issues that occurred in the middle of your encounter. I have noticed. I’m not sure how many others.”
“It was the chocolate mousse that gave it away, wasn’t it,” Mike said. “I’d never waste chocolate mousse unless I really cared, right?”
“How badly are you affected?” Anastasia said, refusing to take the bait.
“Oh… pretty badly,” Mike admitted. “Pretty damned badly. Pretty fucking badly. Pretty much head over heels in love with one of my team member’s fiancee.”
“I was afraid of that,” Anastasia said. “How are you going to handle that?”
“Not much choice, really,” Mike said. “I just go on. Kiril and Gretchen get married. They have one of my kids. I try very hard not to treat her, him or it any differently than any three other Keldara. I just… try to forget.”
“You won’t,” Anastasia said. “There are other… ways.”
“Sure,” Mike said. “I could ask the Fathers to dissolve the bonding. I could throw my Kildar weight around and have her. No question. Then I’d stomp all over their damned culture and piss off a bunch of men with guns, one in particular. Kiril is as smitten by her as I am, you know. I, frankly, don’t know where Gretchen stands.”
“I didn’t have time to investigate that myself,” Anastasia said. “I suppose we’ll find out when we get back. There is… another way. David and ///, yes?”
///explain for the Biblically illiterate///
“Fuck that,” Mike said, blanching. “No fucking way. I’d rather piss the Keldara off honestly than dishonestly. They’d see right through that. No, I need to just keep keeping on. I’ll get over it.”
“Seeing Gretchen day after day, year by year?” Anastasia asked.
“Hey, she’ll get old,” Mike said, smiling with only his mouth, his eyes closed and his jaw flexed. “Probably gain weight. Tits will sag. I’ll get past it. In time.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Say about a century.”
“Yes,” Anastasia said, her hand creeping downward. “I’m sure you will. But if it happens at all, I know only one thing to speed it.”
Mike tried not to shake his head in chagrin. He truly was in love. Probably for the first time in his life. It was true that that sort of thing could hit like a lightning bolt. But it was, also, apparently true that a stiff prick has no conscience.
Chapter Eight
“Where is my daughter,” Arensky said as the van drew to a stop.
“Nearby.” The man who had been “handling” him had not been introduced and had not offered a name. He just told Arensky where to go, or more often simply grunted and pointed. “And if you’d like us to send you some pieces it can be arranged. Or pictures of her being raped by a dozen men. Out. Into the building. Don’t look around. Don’t make eye contact if anyone is nearby. Just get out and go in the door.”
Arensky’s face tightened but he did as instructed, picking up the briefcase containing the “samples” and exiting the van. The “building” was shabby, made of roughly dressed stone with a slate roof and small, wooden shuttered, windows. The interior was dark since the shutters were closed. There was a trickle of light coming in from around the shutters and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. When they did his face tightened even more.
“Ah, Dr. Arensky, come in.”
“Sergei,” Arensky replied, walking to the table in the center of the room and setting down the case. There was the table with a couple of rickety chairs, two metal beds without mattresses and a gas camping stove. Other than that the room was bare. “Where is my daughter.”
“In a nearby town,” “Sergei” said, calmly. “She is unharmed, guarded by my men, tended to, I might add, by local women. Frightened, but I have assured her that as long as you cooperate she will remain that way. And I so assure you. I will arrange for you to talk to her, briefly, very soon. Not in person, you understand. We have, now, to wait. You will wait here. She will wait there. When the transfer is completed she will be moved to where you are going.”