Alien Mine Ch. 18

"Yes Prezident Rossiyskoy Federatsii, I will see to it."

"Before you go, get Yaneta for me; bring her to my apartment tonight."

"Of course," Pavel replied, hiding his distaste. Yaneta was a new widow; there should be some respect for the dead. Dmitri had been ambitious, but he had been loyal, and without his cooperation, they would never have been able to develop the drug. He and his son-in-law had died mysteriously in a car bomb, but he was sure it was connected to the drug. Pavel felt a moment of worry; though he had not been directly involved, he had known about it and had a mental list of those he had planned to use it on. Pavel was thankful he had never written it down, cautious as ever about leaving a record. Had he done so, he doubtless would have been killed with the others. Whoever it was had not killed the President, unfortunately.

Something must be done with Dmitri's assets, Pavel mused; he had controlled almost all of Russia's energy sector and the new rocket launch project; both were critical. He would need to visit Dmitri's daughter soon; she would need to be removed from any power over her father's companies, one way or another. Pavel was already dividing up Dmitri's companies in his mind. He had a list of powerful Oligarchs, some of whom he owed favors, others who would then owe him. Assuredly they were already gathering at the trough to get those assets.

***

The chief of Mossad strode to the hotel's elevator deep in thought, not paying the slightest attention to the opulent surroundings of the lobby. Instead, he was focused on the cryptic invitation to meet with someone from the Miranda Group and discuss areas of mutual interest. That was all the message said, but what bothered him was that the message was delivered by Mika, the woman who was likely to be the next Prime Minister. She had been in the news frequently, the economy was booming with all the new investments, and her sudden rise in popularity combined with her official (and apparently personal) relationship with senior members of Miranda was worrying.

Despite their intense efforts, they could find little about the corporation or the people involved. Trying to trace the funds was a maddening exercise of futility; one of their most brilliant techs had described it as a labyrinth of corporate names that led to mazes with more dead ends than a blind alley that was impossible to unravel. This only added to his suspicions. What was worse was his concerns about Mika. She seemed to be deeply involved somehow, and though her finances had been put under a microscope, she was clean, too squeaky clean. No politician looked that good. Every financial transaction was recorded; there were no suspicious accounts that they could locate.

Michael strode into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, the suites' of course. The hotel was one of the most expensive, catering to the wealthy; no government workers stayed here. The entire floor was reserved by Miranda, and despite Mossad's best efforts, they had learned nothing by planting listening devices into the rooms. That was also telling. Mika opened the door before he could knock by, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Hello Michael, come in, please," she said, standing aside for him to enter.

Michael wasn't surprised to see her here, but he looked at her carefully. He thought Mika was dressed a bit formally for a business meeting; a long midnight blue dress fitted her tightly, emphasizing her figure and long legs. The high heels she wore only added to the effect. Nevertheless, Michael thought she looked elegant and perhaps younger; he wasn't sure, but there was something different about her; a confidence or 'presence' that he hadn't noticed before.

"I don't think you've had a chance to meet Amancia in person," she said, gesturing to a striking woman wearing the exact same dress. Amancia is the Chief Financial Officer for the Miranda Group," she added with a knowing look. "I thought you would be particularly interested in meeting her."

Amancia was even more beautiful in person than in the few pictures Michael had seen of her. She was another enigma, a medium-level executive at a private bank in Miami who was suddenly the Senior Financial Officer of this mysterious company. She disappears from the bank and all assessable records before turning up in her present position. Surely this young woman couldn't be responsible for hiding Miranda's finances from the best financial minds in Israel.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Amancia said with a welcoming smile that, combined with her beauty, would distract most men. "Please have a seat. Can I get you something, coffee, tea, water?"

"Nothing, thank you, Michael replied, taking a seat.

Mika walked over and took a seat next to Amancia, directly across from him. He realized dressing the same was intended to send him a message. Whatever was going on, Mika was involved, and she was letting him know what side she was on. Michael's mind worked furiously, working through the implications; and wondering why Mika was making this statement now.

"I hope you don't mind if we skip the small talk and get right to business," Amancia said, placing a small device on the table in front of them. Before Michael could respond, a ball of light erupted from the device that immediately resolved itself into a hologram of his counterpart in the CIA.

"Hello, Michael," Carl said, "sorry for all the subterfuge, but this needs security I couldn't provide."

"Hello, Carl," Michael replied cautiously, not sure he could believe what was happening. This was right out of a science fiction story.

Carl smiled, understanding the caution Michael displayed. "I need you to suspend your disbelief for a few minutes, I will tell you part of what you want to know, but you will have to meet with Rhys Smith to get the full story. Briefly," he continued, "the remains you found in the hotel are, in fact, alien, but you probably already knew that. From what I understand, the attack was a surprise, and there wasn't time to sanitize. I am involved, but not officially; the rest of our government knows less than you do, although they are starting to suspect. By the way, your security is not as good as it could be; there are reports here of the alien remains you found, though I have tried to kill them.

Michael just nodded, his mind whirling with the implications of what he had been told.

"Rhys Smith can meet with you and tell you the rest if you are willing. Not to be dramatic, but it's dangerous for you and Israel to get involved in this. So my recommendation is you meet with Rhys or drop it altogether. I suspect I know what your choice will be."

Michael started to ask a question, but Carl cut him off. "Save your questions for Rhys; if you agree to meet with him, my wife and I will be there as well. Bring Every with you, Michael; it's essential."

Before he could reply, the hologram disappeared. Michael looked up at the two women sitting side by side on the sofa across from him. He stared at Mika, searching her face and trying to determine what to believe. Then, finally, Michael looked at Amancia. "Who are you?" he asked.

Amancia knew he wasn't asking about her name, but she just shook her head. "If you agree to meet with Rhys, he will tell you everything."

"And you, Mika," he asked, "what is your role?"

"My role is to help Israel; that is what I am doing."

Michael sat back in thought, realizing he wouldn't get anything out of her.

"Would you like something to drink now, coffee, water, scotch?" Amancia asked.

"Yes, I guess so; some scotch would be nice," he said mainly to buy time to process what he had just heard, and of course, they knew he liked scotch. He watched Amancia walk over to the bar, and pick up a bottle and some ice. He stared, entranced at her graceful movements and how her dress and heels emphasized her figure instead of hiding it. Turning his head back, he saw that Mika had also been watching her, but more like one would look at a lover than a colleague or business partner.

"Here you go," Amancia said, handing him a crystal glass with a generous portion of scotch with just the right amount of ice. "I am sure you have many questions," she said as she sat down, slowly crossing her long legs. "Rhys would like to meet with you this weekend at the facility we are building in the Negev; however, you will need to arrange your schedule to be absent for three days. You will be in communication, but there is something Rhys has to show you, and it will take time."

"Why did Carl tell me to bring my wife, is that a threat?" Michael asked warily.

"No, no threat, it is for her safety. Think about what happened at the hotel," Amancia said.

"What did happen? They were after you, correct?"

"Yes, and Mika," Amancia replied.

"Why were they after Mika?" Michael asked.

Amancia just looked at him and shook her head. If you agree to come, bring your wife and two of your most trusted agents, one woman and one man. They may be armed if you like," Amancia added.

"Do I need guards?" he asked.

"No, we will train them, give them weapons they might need. They are for Mika. The attack on the hotel was directed at her.

"If I hadn't seen the remains we found in the stairwell, I wouldn't believe a word of this." Then his brain seemed to hiccup as he made a connection. It was you," Michael suddenly blurted out, "Rhys Smith, you were the ones that rescued Mika."

"Yes," Amancia smiled, "we couldn't let anything happen to her, so we were forced to intervene. That's how they found her, and us."

"And 'they' are the aliens?"

"You will have to talk to Rhys," Amancia replied with a slight smile. She knew how maddening it must be for the Director of the Mossad to be kept in the dark like this, but it was apparent that he would be there for the meeting.

"We can meet this weekend, you said?"

"Yes, this weekend, Friday afternoon, you will be back Monday morning. I urge you to tell no one about the meeting; they found Mika, and they can find you."

"What about after the meeting? Will we be in danger then?"

"If you decide to help us, then yes, but you and Rhys can discuss that."

"Why my wife? I don't want her involved in this; it could put her life in danger."

"She will be in danger no matter what you do; there are no innocents in this fight. You will only add to her danger by excluding her."

Michael looked down at his drink, running the conversation through his very sharp mind, dissecting everything the women had told him, which wasn't much. If not for Carl's assurances, he would have dismissed the idea. The projection of the CIA director onto the table had been clever, he thought. That implied new technology, alien technology? That made the meeting worthwhile in and of itself. "I will consider it; you will have my answer tonight."

"That went well," Mika said after he left, "there is no way he will turn this down; Michael couldn't stand not knowing. "

"I agree; I just hope we haven't put him in too much danger."

Mika turned to Amancia. "I am starting to see information in my mind, and I have to tell you, it is crazy to have this voice in my head talking to me. Just now, it was showing me intimate details of Michael's life, private things about his wife, kids, everything. "

"I know, you will get used to it, and the more you work with your symbiont, the easier it becomes. It will learn your preferences, and you can control how much it shows you and what you want to know."

"I can't wait to see Rhys; do you think he could come a day earlier?" Mika blushed at her own words; she probably sounded like a love-struck teenager.

"I think you should ask him; I would like to see him also," Amancia said wistfully. It had been hard being away from him for so long.

***

Anita had another sleepless night, her sleep fitful, tossing and turning next to her husband. Every time she fell asleep, she dreamed of those emerald green eyes, a pair of shoulders, and a chest right out of a fantasy book. As a result, she was grumpy when she finally dragged herself out of bed, into the shower, and finally to a cup of coffee. Anita was moody; she couldn't help it and avoided talking with her husband, Carson. He was already busy with work this morning and didn't seem to notice.

Anita sighed to herself, looking at him over a cup of coffee. She felt guilty every time she looked at him, so making her excuses, she left early for the office. Adding to her guilt, she was dressed in the new clothes that Sandy had picked out. Anita was wearing a new silk blouse and mid-length skirt that Sandy said matched her complexion and new heels to match the outfit. Anita was even wearing lacy panties and a bra Sandy had insisted on buying. Why had she let Sandy buy her clothes even if the PR firm was paying? Anita wondered while driving to work; it's not like she couldn't afford it.

Nevertheless, it seemed every time she started to resist, Sandy would touch her arm and say something, and Anita would just give in. She had to admit it felt good to let someone else make some decisions. It was difficult being constantly in charge at work and at home. She loved her husband, but he never made any decisions outside of work; he always deferred to her. Hah, that hadn't been a problem with Sandy; she was always ready with a decision or opinion. Dressing in the new clothes had been automatic; she didn't even stop to think about what it meant, wearing clothes your new female lover had picked out for you while kissing your husband goodbye.

Anita was into the third cup of coffee when her aide George knocked and then came into her office. A wave of guilt flowed through her; George was her friend and someone she had trusted all these years, and she knew she was letting him down by what she had done. Letting herself become involved with Rhys and Sandy could destroy her marriage and everything she had worked for. Not only had she cheated on her husband, but she had cheated on George and everyone who had voted for her. Anita was sure he suspected something, but if he did, he hid it well because he had a smile on his face and seemed excited about something.

"Have you seen the news yet today?" he gushed.

Anita's face fell, sure that someone had reported seeing her with Sandy or Rhys.

"Don't worry, it's good news," George said. "Look at this, a piece in the Boise paper telling everyone what a good job you have been doing for the economy, how inflation is lower here than anywhere else in the country. Then this," he said, handing her a piece of paper, is a copy of the article that appeared in the NYT. The author suggests you might be an excellent national candidate, either for the senate or even as a dark horse contender for a presidential nomination. Also, there are articles about Idaho and what's right about the government here in several papers across the country," George beamed.

Anita sat back in her chair, trying to take it all in. She had been so focused on the personal aspect of her new relationship that she had almost forgotten about the professional part, nor had she expected that Rhys and Sandy could deliver on everything they had promised. Anita let herself feel a moment of pride that she was getting this recognition. "We have to be careful, George, this is great, but this kind of publicity comes with scrutiny; we could be under a microscope if this gets traction, and the last thing I want is a bunch of ass-hole reporters coming here to try and tear us apart."

"I know Anita, but that PR firm really delivered; Rhys and Sandy are even better than they claimed to be. Are they going to be here this week?"

George was anxious to see Sandy again; he certainly lusted after her, and so did she. Anita felt her face flush just thinking about them. "Just a second," she said, seeing a call from her husband. George waited patiently, thinking about her schedule while Anita talked. It was pretty full and getting busier since the articles had come out today. Already there were calls for interviews and some invitations to speak at various events. In addition, crucial votes in the legislature were coming up that needed her attention. So she would be busy, and so would he.

"That was Carson, my husband, '' she sighed loudly. He has to leave town again for a few days but will be back Friday. Then next week, he is going on an extended trip overseas to Russia, Poland, and Israel, all looking to import various food products. Business is good, and he is getting a promotion, but that means he will be traveling more," Anita said, obviously not happy about it.

"Yeah, but he is getting a promotion, so that's good for him, and the more we export crops, the better for everyone here," George replied enthusiastically.

Anita nodded but seemed lost in thought, her mind swirling with mixed feelings. Relief that her husband was leaving for a few days, guilt because she felt that way; these new feelings brought on by Sandy and Rhys resulted in more guilt, and then guilt because she wanted to see them again. Good, God, what a mess.

"OK," she said, gathering her thoughts, "what's on the calendar for the day?"

She listened, but part of her thoughts was on Rhys and Sandy. Anita felt a creeping arousal just thinking about being with them. Sex had been good for her over the years, but it wasn't something that drove her. She and Carson had been married for twenty-five years, and passion had long cooled. They were down to once a month. Well, mostly, though sometimes it stretched to two months. Anita wondered if it was her fault, but her husband never complained, so she let it go.

Last week had opened her eyes in more ways than one. Anita had more orgasms the past week than in the previous two years; she didn't know it was possible to have that many orgasms. Besides, she was straight, wasn't she? Why the sudden desire for a woman after all these years?

"Alright," she said, wrenching her attention back to George, "get him on the phone; let's start with that. Yes, to the interview with the Boise paper, no to all the others, not today anyway, just tell them we will get back to them. I will be visiting members of Congress most of today to work on getting the bill passed before the legislative session is complete. Anything tonight I have to attend too?" Anita said, thinking about a quiet evening with a glass of wine and a long bath.

George looked at his text messages before answering. "It appears you are meeting Rhys and Sandy tonight, dinner in their hotel at 8:00," he answered, the disappointment evident on his face that he wasn't invited.

Fuck! Anita thought to herself. Her face flushed as unbidden memories flashed through her mind, the skin over her whole body suddenly tingling, and a warm pulse was surging from between her legs. She knew she was getting wet and was afraid her arousal might show. Then, coughing to hide her discomfort from George, she excused herself and ran to her bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she grasped the sink with both hands, staring into the mirror. "I am a good wife," she whispered to the woman looking back at her. "You love your husband, do not do it, please," she said desperately, but the eyes looking back at her were haunted by a mixture of guilt and arousal. Her heart fluttered like a teenager on her first date, and thoughts zipped back and forth in Anita's head, impossible to sort out.

"You're a good wife, and you love your husband. Forget it," she repeated but to no avail. "Oh, God," she moaned as Anita felt the hunger well up in her, and she pictured herself on her knees looking up at two people, one a face framed by red hair and piercing green eyes looking back at her telling her she was a good girl. The other was so handsome and totally masculine. She knew her body was reacting entirely out of control and out of character as if her vagina had a mind of its own. Anita could feel her labia swelling and her clit press directly against her panties. The sudden rush of lust surprised her, and she thought about how it felt with her face buried in Sandy's sex, licking at her clit with hard fast strokes while Rhys' hard cock plundered her body. Anita had never imagined such pleasure was possible. It was all she thought about when she masturbated, which she did every day now.