Life as a New Hire Ch. 48

"Vice President Varma ...," I started off.

"When in private you may call me Rhada," she interrupted.

"Rhada, you look more ravishing than ever."

That got up her and coming around her desk ... which revealed her ultra-tight pants with no sign of her wearing underwear. Yikes! My dick was preparing to do what a dick was meant to do and I just didn't have the time - REALLY!!

"Do you have any time?" she let her bosom heave.

"Not today ... ugh," I groaned. See, Rhada took the stylus and dragged it down her chin, throat and in between her bountiful mounds.

All of which exposed the top of her black bra.

"Are you sure ... Master?" she enticed me by turning around and then leaning over her desk, point that ass in my direction. My mouth began salivating and my groin ached. I found myself quick-stepping to her and giving those buttocks two firm slaps - one on each cheek.

"No, damn it, though I'm going to make you pay for this when I get back," I rumbled.

"Master will make me wait?" she taunted me.

"That will cost you even more," I growled. "I have business which simply won't wait and here is my captive teasing me with the treasures of her flesh. Bad, war captive," I spanked her yet again - hard. "Bad!" and I spanked her a fourth time. With each beating, Rhada gasped in pain and then exhaled in pleasure.

"If I've been bad, Master must be extra harsh with me when he returns in triumph from the Great Hunt," she gloated. Rhada had gotten what she wanted, which was another affirmation of my lust for her and our 'game'. I could provide her the release she so desperately craved while allowing her the safety of remaining in the Amazon fold. It was a perfect pairing ... for her.

I had other problems ... such as all the OTHER baby mamas in my life plus the extra-marital affairs I was contemplating. I still took the moments we had to snuggle with Rhada, her grinding that tushy into my rod while I held both her arms tightly to her side while raining kisses down onto her neck and head.

"Sir! A giant tsunami is approaching the city!" Juanita exploded through the door.

"What?" I coughed. I had a face full of hair.

"Huh?" Rhada pushed up and away from me. I let her go.

"Right now," Juanita insisted. She really needed to stop taking me so seriously when I gave her such advice.

"Really?" from Rhada. She shot me a curious look so I shrugged. What else was I supposed to do with such a flimsy lie forcing our separation? At least I got out of there on time?

{9:50 am, Monday, September 8th ~ Last day}

[JKIT HQ]

"Is this a common occurrence?" Sister Rafaela Sophia whispered to the closest woman, who happened to be Wiesława, the Polish Amazon. Since she hadn't arrived with us from Havenstone, the nun might have assumed she was with the 'Americans', or British.

"What?" Wiesława responded evenly.

"Weapons combat - they look real," the nun clarified.

"They are real. We always practice with real weapons."

"Really?"

"Of course," Wiesława smiled at her. "We believe a few cuts and scrapes now will save lives when the true tests come."

"Oh ... you are with ... Havenstone?" Rafaela clued in.

"Yes. I am Wiesława of House Živa. I am currently assigned to Unit L - Cáel's unit within JIKIT," she offered her hand to shake. Despite being a full-blooded Amazon from a freehold, her 'human' skills were progressing nicely. The nun shook it.

"I am Sister Rafaela Sophia of the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus - that is a Roman Catholic Religious Order." Pause. "Do you hate Catholics too?"

"Yes. We have lived beside your people for many centuries and found your clergy to be much more dangerous than your pagan predecessors. Still, Cáel thinks you can be relied on and he's proven we can trust outsider women, which I was raised to believe was unlikely, and outsider men, which was basically anathema, so I'm willing to set aside my prejudices and judge you as an individual," the Pole imparted.

"Outsider men?" Rafaela mumbled.

"Well, yes," Wiesława smirked. "You are a nun, right?"

"Yes."

"So you set aside the World of Men to live mostly among women, right?"

"Not entirely," the nun chose her words carefully. "We still rely on priests for religious rights and of course obey the life teachings of Christ and follow the leadership of his Holiness, the Pope - a man."

"No one is perfect," the Amazon bantered back.

"Do you know the teachings of our Lord, Jesus Christ?" Rafaela ventured into dangerous waters.

"Yes. He was the semi-historical Son of your supposed One True God. We are not monotheists. We are Polytheists. Živa is my House's matron Goddess. It is also the name of the first woman to lead the House, her birth name surrendered to Destiny so all the daughters who came afterwards would be equals."

"Oh ... is Mr. Nyilas also pagan?" she inquired.

"I am unsure. From what I have been told, he has commended the spirit of his fallen father to your Jesus in a sacred ceremony then, in the presence of your Trinity and the Goddess Ishara, brought in new members to his House. I suspect he may be both," Wiesława reasoned. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Because he's fighting for his life?" Rafaela looked my way.

See, the entire time their discussion had been going on, I had been sparring in a spare room at JIKIT HQ with Estere Abed, the Hashashin assassin (rather redundant ~ like saying the Sahara Desert). I had two tomahawks while she had a scimitar and curved dagger. While we sparred using the furniture as obstacles, Agent-86 was briefing me on various World events to get my input.

Addison Stuart (CIA) and Lady Fathom Worthington-Burke (MI-6) were having a chat with Bishop Nicoló de Santis, verifying for themselves he was worth adding to the team. Juanita was having a similar discussion with Rikki Martin (US State Department) concerning my earlier encounter with the Papal team. Nicoló's buddy, Wachtmeister Mathias Bosshart of the Swiss Guard, was getting acquainted with the other security personnel.

In comparison, those two had it easy. Both men were in their elements. Nicoló was a spook who pretended to be a diplomat for the Pope and was well acquainted with terms like 'deniable assets', 'plausible deniability' and your direct superior referring to requests concerning your identity/diplomatic status by saying 'I never heard of him and if I had, I have no idea what he was doing when you caught him doing what I don't know what he was doing', or something like that.

Mathias was in the company of military-security specialists - brother professionals who were introducing him to his 'sister' professionals. Our Homeland Security gang were almost entirely former military by now. They got along with our JSOC folks and both had gained a limited acceptance with the Amazon security contingent.

They bonded over the fact they were forced to work with really shady characters ~ the 9 Clans menagerie ~ who didn't always appreciate JIKIT operational security. Without going into particulars, the Wachtmeister was given the impression the abnormal was the norm and if you didn't think there was a 'down-side' to being able to carry your personally favorite bang-bang (the SG 552-2P Commando in his case) with some serious attachments (read: grenade launcher) around in downtown Manhattan, you probably didn't belong on this team.

Back in the room,

"He's not fighting for his life," Estere laughed. "He is fighting for mine."

"Right," I responded sarcastically. We went through a flurry of exchanges, ending up with me kicking a chair at her. Estere stepped over it, colliding with me.

I blocked her dagger, disarmed her scimitar and ...

"You are dead," she panted down at me, smiling. I was on my back, her straddling me. She had a belt-knife to my throat. I hadn't see her draw it. The scimitar 'disarm' had been a distraction.

"Woot!" I exhaled.

"But you're dead," Sister Rafaela misunderstood my good humor.

"He survived a minute and thirty-four seconds more today than his previous record," Estere responded. She slithered off of me, doing my arousal NO GOOD whatsoever then offered me a hand up.

"And that's better?"

"He's a rank amateur with a few months on the job. I've been training to kill people for nearly two decades," Estere smiled. "Care to have a go?"

"With him, or you?"

"Either," Estere offered.

"I don't have a knife ... or any hand weapons," she stated.

"We'll need to remedy that," Wiesława stated. "You should at least carry a knife."

"Really? Why?"

"It is a nearly universal tool," I verbally stepped up. "Even if you are disarmed, you should be able to find one relatively easily, people are less likely to miss a stolen knife than a purloined gun, and a concealed blade could come in handy."

"Do you train in knife-work?" Rafaela eye-balled me.

"Absolutely. It is part of my culture," I grinned.

"Okay. Can we spar - hand-to-hand?"

"Sure," I nodded. I put my tomahawks in their harnesses then put my harnesses aside. Estere gave me a wink before giving us the fighting space.

"So," Rafaela began to circle, "are you Christian?"

"By your definition, or mine?"

"By the definition of the Catholic Church."

Oh cool, she went for a Savate stance. This was going to get ugly.

My "no," was followed by her kick and my block, lunge and grapple. She wasn't nearly as good as Felix. I had her down and in a choke hold within fifteen seconds.

Perhaps she thought I'd take it easy on her. She tapped out. I released her, retreated and flowed back to my boxing stance. It took her a moment to realize this was 'practice', not 'an interview'. She hadn't failed in anyone's eyes. We were both doing this to get better.

"See, I really, truly believe I have talked to supernatural entities ~ some who are considered divinities," I continued. This time she was more careful, trading jabs and blocks with me. "They don't claim to be the One True God. I believe in such a thing, but I also believe having been given the Message, Humanity has been left to muddle things out for ourselves."

Whoops, she popped me one.

"The Woman-Thing this morning?"

"Yep," I evaded another flurry. She got cocky and I landed three blows, dropping her to the ground. I didn't help her up. Instead, I withdrew and let her get back up on her own before deciding if she wanted to continue. She did.

"I believe I've seen dragons and ghosts. I have felt legions of my ancestors give me quiet encouragement when I needed it. I know the dead have been brought back to life," I came at her. This time we both went for body blows - knees, elbows and fists. She was not SD-caliber and she needed to be. I grappled and she was forced to tap out again. After she regained her feet, she held up a hand for a pause.

"Do you believe any of that?" she addressed Estere.

"I am an adherent of Ismaili Islam yet nothing Cáel has encountered is contrary to my belief system. The Universe is a complex place and the Divine Light is often seen through a fractured lenses," she counseled the nun.

"Among the escapees were lawyer Francisco Luemba, Catholic Priest Raul Tati, economist Belchior Lanso Tati and former policeman Benjamin Fuca who are serving jail sentences of between three and six years each for supposed links to the rebel group FLEC (Frente para a Libertação do Enclave de Cabinda), which carried out the attack on the Togolese football team at the start of the Africa Cup of Nations in January, 2010," Agent-86 read off yet another bit of global minutia.

"We need to get to them," I half turned. Sister Rafaela punched me in the gut and I folded up.

"Oh!" she gasped. "I'm sorry."

"Okay ..." I mumbled. I had to keep with the plan. "Those men. We need to contact our Coils people in Kinshasa and the Warden of the Mountain Ways ['she' was the Amazon Host's leader of Africa ~ in the ancient times, the mountain ways had been the routes of southern vulnerability for the Amazon tribe thus the name]."

"Okay," both Agent-86 and Estere answered.

"Why?" 86 added.

"The Coils and the Host have had a serious problem with no nation in Africa giving them even back room recognition so we are going to take over our own country - Cabinda. It's been struggling to be free of Angola since 1975 and, by latest estimates, we've got strike elements of over 2,000 Amazons ready and waiting next door in Cameroon, Gabon and the Republic of Congo."

"So you are going to go to war with Angola?" Estere frowned. "Don't we have enough enemies?"

"Au contraire," I grinned wickedly. "The resistance movement is genuine," I ticked off my points, "they have tons of offshore oil, and after we set off some spectacular explosions in the two main Angolan ports which are just down the coast, we allow global panic to bully the UN into intervening before the Angolan military launch an effective counter-offensive ~ considering the Angolan Armed Forces (I'd been reading up on a ton of CIA & MI-6 briefings) will most likely involve attrition warfare since they can't beat us in a stand-up fight."

"They - the Angolans - have no overland access - they are separated by 60 kilometers of territory belonging to the Democratic Republic of Congo over some sad ass roads PLUS the Congo River itself which is freaking huge by the time it gets that close to the Atlantic - Cabinda rests on the Atlantic Ocean by the way. No bridges. The Angolan Navy is anemic. Let me think."

I began pacing.

"Hmmm ... they have no paratroopers though they have some Special Forces - we will need to hit as many of them in the barracks as we can. Their last invasion was from the north - overland - from the Republic of the Congo - in 1975 - not likely to happen this time ... though I may have my 'Brother' weasel up a battalion of Indian paratroopers to act as convincing peacekeepers after the initial take over."

"Perhaps we can recruit some Vietnamese. I'm sure they'll love fighting in someone else's jungle for a change. We'll need some of 'our' guys to seize the port of Soyo - it is on the wrong side of the river, but has the major refinery the Cabindans will need. Since the entire surrounding province are the same ethnic make-up as the Cabindans, we'll have to take that too."

"Man-o-man, I bet by the time this is over they'll really wish they'd given little Cabinda independence back in 1975. As for their other refinery ... it is in their capital - Luanda - a few big explosions there too will get the markets jittery. Check that ~ the complete and utter destruction of their major petroleum facility will create a stampede for Peace," I continued. I walked over as our resident computer intelligence genius worked his magic.

"Blowing things up ... you mean killing people," the nun blanched.

"Yes. This is what I do," I spared her a sympathetic glance. "I've got a madman roaming around in my head who provides me truly epic military advice which normally, but not always, means blowing shit up and killing folks. Welcome to the team," then as the data appeared, "Holy Shit! Did they build their oil refinery in the midst of their ghetto?" I was staggered. The refinery in Soyo was isolated from the town so it could be easily (and safely) seized. It was the one in Luanda which was the 'HOLY SHIT' site/sight.

"It looks that way," Agent-86 agreed nonplussed. "Hmmm ... yeah, here is the port facility then your neighborhood of shoddily constructed one- and two-story dwellings between the refinery and the inland storage tanks ... the perimeter barrier appears to be a chain link fence. I'd hate to be their Chief of Security."

"Oh yeah," I choked. Estere slipped around to get a look.

"Whoops," she snorted.

"What are these people thinking?" I continued. "The whole shebang is exposed to the northern quarter of the city. The storage tanks have residential dwellings on all four sides with numerous side streets. Two teams with RPGs and four rounds apiece ... Holy Crap. Sorry Sister."

"But I want to save lives," she sputtered.

"Limiting the collateral damage could be pretty tough," Estere frowned. She toggled throw a series of maps to multiple pictures.

"Oh, look (dripping sarcasm); they light up the refinery at night. You can sit off the coast in a speed boat under cover of darkness and attack from there," she noted.

"Damn. Those are a lot of lights," Agent-86 agreed.

"24-7 operation," I suspected.

"We will need some experts ..." the government agent nodded.

"Or we are going to kill a fuck-load of innocent people. Not just the workers, but can you imagine a fire spreading to those neighborhoods? Shit," I muttered.

"You can't seriously be contemplating doing something like this," the nun sputtered. "It is inhumane. Think of the families ... the children."

"Lady, yes I am. Do you have any idea what the Human Rights record of the Angolan Army in Cabinda is? It is truly horrific and in case you missed it, one of the guys in dire need of rescuing by me - due to him being a huge rebel leader who has managed to escape ... is also a Catholic priest. He's going to be part of the new government we are going to install once we kill a few hundred Angolans ~ mostly soldiers (more like well over a thousand)."

"We are going to kill a few hundred so a few hundred thousand can live free, democratic lives without worrying about the local police and political establishment torturing and murdering them. It is all part of the plan."

"I think I need to talk with the Bishop."

"Hang on. Let me finish," I forestalled her. "He'll get briefed along with everyone else. After all, it is a majority Roman Catholic country as is Angola, so I'm sure your guy can be of immense help."

"The people you are putting at risk don't deserve this," she protested.

"They never do," I nodded in agreement with her. "It rarely stops terrible crap from happening to them though."

I felt sorry for the Sister. She thought the Bishop was going to put a stop to this. Poor girl; he was going to do the exact opposite. See, the two competing forces at play here were a communistic kleptocracy (currently ruling Angola) and Catholic liberation theology united with a Cabindan national identity dating back to 1885. At stake was 900,000 barrels a day of petroleum. That was a bunch of funding for somebody. Last I checked, the state run energy conglomerate had misplaced $32 BILLION ... in just three years.

Mind you, the Coils of the Serpent and the Amazon Host didn't want to help the People of Cabinda out of the goodness of their hearts either. They wanted cover for the importation of weapons and other war-fighting material so they could kill the Condottieri in Africa. If the rebel leaders-turned-legitimate government didn't play ball well ... the Coils were in the 'assassinating people' business and somewhere along the line the survivors would figure out keeping 'us' happy kept them alive. Problem solved.

It was Bishop Nicoló de Santis' job to facilitate that understanding. If certain people with Vatican credentials explained the 'facts of life' to the new regime a lot more lives could be saved - Catholic lives. In turn, he could work to make sure the new group in power wasn't nearly as corrupt as the gang we were tossing out. Better education and quality of life, improved infrastructure & security and a nice shiny cathedral, or two.

We, as in JIKIT and our component members, didn't want to rule the country and dominate the people's lives. We needed the ports and the airfields with a blind eye turned to our skullduggery. Sure, there would be future considerations. Amazons and Coil members would be fighting and dying for these people's freedom ~ public recognition definitely NOT required. No; the Amazons wanted to be left alone in their deep jungle homes which was an isolation they basically already had. This was a future chit which said 'don't come looking'.