Life as a New Hire Ch. 36

"You don't know me, you aren't like me and you don't get to talk to me as if we are familiar in any way," Saku replied.

"You are absolutely right. I have offered my help without you asking for any," I nodded.

"I try to not ask too much of you. I certainly haven't requested you stay at my side. Until now, you haven't had a choice," I stated. "You were alone in a hostile world. Tonight, I gave you the choice. Alal didn't request your presence, though he obviously knew you were with me. Now you get to make up your mind. If I see you at breakfast, I will take that as your pledge to stay with me until the final encounter between me and Grandfather."

"Until?" Saku studied me.

"Of course. In his own twisted way, Alal loves you. He engineered you coming back from the dead. You first decided to work with me because you saw something of Alal in me," I answered. "When the time comes, I expect you to follow your heart...as you have always done."

"You remain an annoying Kililikilippa," Saku muttered. She stormed off to her room. I didn't bother continuing the conversation. I'd already won. The other two flashed me a curious look.

"Dragonfly. Kililikilippa is Assyrian for dragonfly," I answered them. There were worse pests to be identified with.

"Oh... Cáel, if you think she is going to betray us, she should be removed from the unit," Virginia said after the echoes of Sakuniyas slamming her door shut faded.

"Virginia, sending her away robs her of any chance to take charge of her life," I replied. "All she has is us."

"She is a danger to the rest of us," Chaz pointed out.

"Dangerous is following me around," I joked. "Sakuniyas is an added incentive for the rest of you to seek employment elsewhere and I wouldn't blame any of you one bit."

"You can't control her," Virginia said.

"As opposed to the control he exerts over you and me," Chaz changed sides. "Agent Maddox, you hold a modicum of trust in me because I am from a country and agency you comprehend as being worthy of that trust. Amazons and Assyria mean nothing to you.

They don't mean much to me either, but the kid (me) has good instincts and he willingly provides information we need to protect our respective citizenry," he pointed out. "I've made life and death decisions based on gut instincts before. That's why I'm still alive and in this profession. It is not for the second-guessers, self-doubters, or any individual with a guilty conscience."

"Do you ever worry about killing the wrong person?" Virginia inquired of Chaz.

"Worry? Yes. I don't worry so much that it keeps me from doing the job though," he responded.

"How did you end up...doing this?" Virginia wondered. Hana opened the door to our shared bedroom wearing a lot of slinky. Since I was a good judge of how long it takes a woman to disrobe, make up her mind about what impression she wants to convey to her date and get into that bit of lingerie -- unless naked is her thing -- I knew Hana hadn't been waiting one second.

"Ah...hi Ms. Sulkanen," Virginia became uncomfortable. Chaz gave an amused twist of the lips.

"Agent Maddox, 'Tomorrows' have been fighting for the English Crown since before they were even Tomorrows. The War of the Roses -- York then Tudor. Our Civil War -- for King Charles the First, the one executed. The Seven Years War -- buried two in Germany... the Holy Roman Empire back then.

Crimea -- buried a soldier outside of Sevastopol and had a sailor on the Grinder," he recited with some pride. "Second Afghan War -- four ancestors -- one died in battle and another of cholera. The First Boer War got the younger of the two survivors. My Great-Great Grandfather fought under Glaselee in China in 1900, then went on to fight in the World War I -- a total of seven served in that -- four lived.

One died in Ypres, one in Mesopotamia and the other in Italy. One came back without most of his right leg. We still have his wooden replacement over my uncle's mantel. One of those survivors died in Russia in 1919. We also lost our first female, a military nurse, in 1920 -- Spanish Influenza," he continued.

I was blown away. I had vague recollections of what my Father's father did; certainly not anything to compare to the Tomorrow family's lengthy, storied tradition.

"We lost one on Crete in '41. My Great-Grandfather died outside Arnhem in '44. The other three men and two women made it through. No one knows for sure what my Great-Aunt Martha did in WW II, but they gave her a medal for it in '56.

My Great-Uncle was in the SAS when they fought in Malaysia -- killing Communists. He trained my Mother's father, who went back to Malaysia with a cousin of mine in 1964 -- killing Indonesians -- go figure -- both lived. My Father fought in the Falklands -- SAS too. His brother, Uncle Mason, was in the Troubles -- killing Irishmen -- then was in Desert I -- killing Iraqis.

Uncle William died there -- doing what? No one knows. My oldest brother, Todd, killed some Peruvians though he doesn't like to talk about it. Todd, Christopher and me fought in Afghanistan -- they killed Christopher," he added without a hint of sorrow. "My oldest sister, Patty, betrayed the family honor and become an officer in the Royal Navy.

My other sister, Estelle, left the Royal Marines a few years back," Chaz kept going.

"How many children are in your family?" Virginia gulped.

"Seven. I'm the youngest. There are currently nine of us in service if you just count brothers, sisters, first and second cousins," he filled us in.

"So when Pamela referred to you as a 'Welshman too stupid to avoid government service,' she wasn't kidding," I chuckled.

"Pretty much. I believe you have more important things to do than chat with me and FBI Agent Maddox, Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege Cáel," he winked. "We'll be out here ignoring everything we hear, don't you worry."

"Yes Sir," I saluted him.

"Cáel, never do that again," Chaz smirked. "It isn't in you." He meant the salute, I guessed.

"Come here, You," Hana grabbed my tie and dragged me into the bedroom. She kicked the door shut. Woot!

(Hercege and Hercegné)

"This is so horribly screwed up," Hana shook her head, taken in by all the madness of the past few days of both our lives.

"What's wrong?" I wrapped my around her waist and pulled her tight, her forehead resting on my chin and her arms folded up between us.

"Usually I go on a date, or sometimes two, with a man before the topic of marriage comes up. When you tack on 'you proposing and me accepting pre-first date," she murmured. Sighed. "This is fraught with dangerous uncertainties. Also..." I liked her word usage.

"Yes?"

"You are by far the most immature man I've ever dated and I started dating when I was thirteen," she teased me with a harmonious sigh.

"You were dating men when you were thirteen," I faux-gasped. "You go girl! Were they really old men?" She balled up her left hand into a fist and lightly thumped me in the chest.

"I think we are back to you being a horrible person," she turned her head so she could rest her ear on my chest and listen to my heartbeat.

"Noted -- established -- accepted. I'm glad you are the good one in this pairing," I stroked her hair. "Good deeds have a way of causing me intense pain, so I'm working on avoiding them."

"Liar," she giggled. "Cáel, my first husband," she resumed. Guys, let a girl talk a bit about her past, failed romances. It is a guidepost of what not to do. Not because she's telling you the truth about anything, but because she's letting you know of what she does and doesn't like. Put on your headphones, crank up the landmine detector and stride boldly forth.

"He was your polar opposite," she continued. "He was completely devoted to his career, how he would advance in it and had an iron-confidence about his future that I found comforting. Too bad he turned out to be a complete control-freak, a lying asshole and a vindictive bastard." Now we were getting somewhere. The use of the words 'polar opposite' meant she liked me.

"Every bump in the road, every complication to his Master Plan required me to give up more -- to put my dreams and ambitions on hold while what he wanted had to come first. I tried to convince myself initially that things would balance out eventually. Then I thought a child would help -- it didn't. Then I wanted to formalize the death of our love in a divorce and he went ballistic.

I was making him 'look bad'. I was the impediment to his ambitions and every little crack in our marriage was my fault. I didn't try enough, he said. So, he turned our divorce a venue to punish me. I know for a fact he barely spends any time with Õnnela -- that is my daughter's name -- during her visits. Her name is Estonian for 'Luck'. Her father's name is...Sten Männik.

His father is a business partner of Father's in Estonia, which was how we met. He is a bit older -- 37...does my age bother you?" she snuck that question up on me.

"Considering my first sexual partner, my first love and my first mentor was 22 years older than me -- I must say our age difference hadn't even occurred to me," I answered truthfully.

"Who was she?" Hana nuzzled into my chest.

"Not happening. I hate it when women think I'm measuring them against other women," I dropped my chin on the top of her head. "She trained me better than that."

"We are getting married," she pressed.

"I'm not saying I'll never give you her name, tell you about her, or that I'll invite her to the wedding without your permission, but this is a talk I'd like to have with her first," I confessed. "This isn't some nostalgic emotional desire, Hana. She deserves a chance to decide if she wants to be a part of our lives."

"When can I talk with her?" Hana murmured. I lowered a hand down and pinched her butt.

"Hey!" she squeaked then play-punched me in the chest once more. The pinch assured Hana that my mind was on her. She took a deep breath.

"You smell good," she sighed. I nibbled her hair with my lips. It is actually a comforting gesture.

"Do you mind if we just sleep tonight?" she tipped back slightly so that we had eye contact. I didn't rush my answer. The truth was she looked beat.

"No," I grinned. "I mind, yet I'd better start getting used to taking your advice; so I promise to be good -- tonight." That brought out a glow of happiness. Sex -- respect. I wanted her enough to respect her wishes.

She made a perfectly normal, adult mistake. She turned and walked ahead of me to our queen-sized bed. I was a child. I big, happy-go-lucky child. I grabbed two firm handfuls of Hana-butt and squeezed.

"What!" she rewarded me with her playful outrage. She spun around. "We said 'No Sex'," she scowled.

"You agreed to 'No Sex'," she stressed her point.

"Babe, that's not sex," I insisted. "That's worship." Swat!

"You're incorrigible," she failed to stifle her grin.

"Guilty as charged," I agreed. This time she wised up, walked backwards to the bed and quickly slipped beneath the sheets.

I kept my eyes on her the whole way, staying completely motion until she was concealed.

"Damn," I mumbled. "I'm going to go to the bathroom..."

"And?" she teased.

"And brushing, flossing, shaving and taking a sponge bath. Ballistic vests are hard on the hygiene," I informed her. Hana let me off easily.

My luggage and I migrated to the bathroom. I performed my personal cleanliness duties as I weighed my options. I was a huge fan of sleeping in the nude. Since I had a pathological hatred of male pajamas (I only owned some because girls look adorable in men's PJ's), I had to choose between the 'man-package', regulation-sized and 'boy shorts' underwear scenarios in my mind.

Boy shorts came out the winner. I wanted our first sexual encounter to include rested bodies and alert minds. After all, Hana was going to have to put up with a lot of crap from me in the future, so I owed her my ultimate compassionate effort. The sleepy smile Hana gave me as I came out confirmed I'd made the right choice.

She'd already seen me naked poolside at the Sulkanen Hampton's estate. She'd worn her enticing wear to do just that -- entice. I'd been enticed -- mission accomplished. Now she wanted sleep and I was barely clothed enough to convince her that that was where we were going. I so wanted to crawl into bed over her, but I figured my self-control had been strained enough for the past 48 hours.

I cut off the lights, crawled into bed beside her and immediately scooted over to her side. It took her a second to figure out my motives were pure (for me). She rolled over, draping her right leg over my right and her right hand came to rest on my sternum. I was still getting used to her hair on my shoulder when I heard her first, soft snore.

The night was long for me. My mind kept operating at close to peak capacity. I had to figure out what Grandfather was up to, and without resorting to his rationality. His 'logic' was corrosive to my passionate dreams for a future. I absorbed some of that cruel mechanism by studying the sleeping Hana. Not in the 'creepy, Twilight vampire hovering over the virgin's bed while she slept' way.

I studied her breathing patterns and how she responded to my touch, to my own breathing and how she moved in her sleep, so I could be a better match for her. I also discovered one of her obvious flaws. All girls have flaws. If you find a perfect woman -- run away. She's a sociopath who has mastered the art of 'playing human'. You aren't long for this World if you stick around.

Hana's first flaw that I came across was chilling. Really -- chilling. The woman had ice-packs for feet. Damn, we were in Italy with the windows slightly open in summer and I wanted to get on my sheep skin boots...except an ex-GF filled them with horse manure and I could never get the stink out of them. I had an answer to this problem.

Over a period of thirty minutes, I slowly untangled us, edged her along until we were spooning then bent her knees away from me until I could press the top of my feet against the soles of hers. Five minutes after that, she backed into me and murmured with contentment while still remaining deeply asleep. Without much though, I wrapped my left arm around her so she could feel snug.

What the hell. I wasn't a total jerk all the time and it made Hana happy and more comfortable without costing me a damn thing. To be fair, the situation did arouse my cock-master ... who insistently informed me that not having sex in 48 hours (without being in a coma) was against the executive power-sharing agreement we'd made when I was eighteen.

Thankfully, sleeping Hana didn't mind the Magyar-Irish-Genetic Monster sausage that blossomed between us. She actually wiggled against it a few times over those long torturous hours as she slept. A happy thought occurred to me before dawn. Hana wasn't the bar/party kind of girl so odds were great she hadn't had sex since her divorce three years ago. Yay!

My thoughts were not totally devoted to sex, Hana, and sex with Hana. My growing maturity also went over the political and physical fights I had been in. All those dead Seven Pillar operatives...the ridge...Charlotte...the dead Mycenaean five steps away on top of the an equally dead Romanians. I had to organize that pain and those images. I had to find my own way to deal.

Violence would not stop being a part of my life. I knew with Alal's mind how he regarded this Long Peace. It hadn't been all that peaceful, but that wasn't the point. The key factor was that today, the people at the helms of all those nations and economic entities didn't know what a real war was like.

Things like 'National Effort' were slogans for social programs, or relegated to the history books. The world was full of vicious bastards and bitches who were ready, willing and eager to use death and fear to advance their goals. Their numbers were magnified by the millions upon millions of lives they impacted.

As Alal said, there are times when you needed 'wolves'. You couldn't defeat a pack of wolves with a flock of sheep. That was one of his chief issues with mankind. That they took a theory of physiological change and transferred it to the social arena. Alal didn't believe you could remove the violence from the society and expect it to survive.

It was the age old equation of civilized, pre-mediated violence. Someone had something you wanted. If you thought you could overwhelm this enemy with an acceptable loss of life to your side...why wouldn't you take it? There had always been far more sheep than wolves, but you needed the wolves, despite the danger of keeping them close.

In Alal's mind, Napoleon Bonaparte demonstrated the correctness of his theories in 1799 and the rest of Europe had been stacking proof upon proof for a hundred and fifty years after that. The British Empire hadn't been built on trade. It had been built by trade enforced at the end of the barrel of a gun or cannon. The Hindu and Islamic leaders of India did not flock to the British Raj. They gave up varying portions of their independence because they knew what the British would do to them...eventually...if they resisted. Africa was the same way.

In China, the English fought two Opium Wars to force the Chinese to pay for the privilege of buying the catalyst for the destruction of millions of individual lives and the moral and social decay of their culture. Britain had wolves. Wolves had run rampant across the globe. The Manchus had been wolves back in the 17th century. The Qing (Manchu) Dynasty that the British founded had caged those wolves ... until the cage broke and the wolves ran free. When the Qing needed them, their loyal wolves were too few, while the rest were running out of control in the countryside.

In Europe the pattern went from small, professional armies with mercenary cores to massive conscripted armies powered by the advent of the Industrial Age. This new creation of the Napoleonic Age birthed wolves among the sheep. Both had died in great numbers until, after 16 years of war, the French wolves ran out of fight. But old wolves trained new wolves and sheep could always be rounded up for a fight. Every conflict up to September 1945 verified the validity of that pattern. From sheep sprang the wolves that filled the ranks of Paratroopers, Guards, Commandoes, Rangers and the first Kamikaze.

At the end of World War II, the sheep rose up within the great powers. They were tired of wolves, not accepting that it had been the sheep sending the wolves to war for most of the Imperial Age. You don't think so? Only one world leader wanted World War I, and that was Kaiser Wilhelm -- a child-like autocrat, not a wolf.

No. The French and English leaders didn't want a war. Sure, they'd been in an arms race for over a decade, but it was nationalism that drove the sheep to bleat for war. Tsar Nicolas II and the Russian elite were actually a rather dissipated lot and far removed from the men who had thrown off the Tartar Yoke centuries earlier. They had lumbered like a crippled, blind Brown Bear over the precipice.

Why did the Russians find themselves in a war? Serbia and some vague idea of a Pan-Slavic Identity. In Russia, it was the sheep leading the sheep and the disaster was far too predictable. In fact, in the first three months of the war, only one nation had accomplished its objectives ~ the little Kingdom of Serbia.

By the end of 1945, it was almost over; only China and its Civil War remained to sputter on for four more years. For the most part, the sheep agreed to chain up their wolves. The atomic age had made the prospect of war too dangerous, or so we were told. The voices of the wolves were only heard in the distance. The sheep wanted to be the only ones allowed to vote.

Liberal Democracy claimed an empty victory in 1991. They had won the peace without raising a finger...if you ignored the hundreds of 'brushfire' wars that sprang up continuously. After the Cold War, the sheep focused almost all they had on taking care of the sheep. This was Alal's view of things, and though I disagreed with him, I needed to know what directed his thinking. It was an unhappy night piled upon two unhappy days.