Seven Days

"It's very late," he cagily said.

"I need to see you."

"How about we leave it until the morning? I can see you first thing at your office."

"Now is better."

Daniel hesitated again. He needed time to think things through and if he let the Old Man, or whoever this was, think that he was on his way there, that could buy him what he wanted.

"I'll be there within the hour," he said, keeping his voice level. "But Tom, tell me, how did your conversation with Steve Russo go?"

"Who?"

A cold chill swept through Daniel's body and he swiveled on his heels to look around him again, but he was alone. Was he becoming paranoid?

"Never mind," he quietly said into the phone, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. "I'll see you within the hour..."

*

Daniel's mind was so preoccupied as he returned to the dressing room that at first his eyes didn't process what they saw. When realisation hit him, it was the second shock to his system in the last half an hour.

It was akin to walking into a sexual orgy!

Groupies trying to associate themselves with the band members went with the territory, of course. It happened after every gig. It was quite unbelievable what some of these girls would do, just to attract attention to themselves. Even Daniel was targeted at times, although he didn't have the same glamour that was attached to Frankie, Patrick, Harry and Tony.

But this wasn't a gig, it was a rehearsal! Fans didn't know they were there. And even if they did, they couldn't easily get inside the studio. Suddenly, two and two made four. These blonde women weren't ordinary groupies. They had been brought here, allowed to enter, with one thing in mind.

Sex!

His heart raced faster at the realisation, and then threatened to burst from his chest when he glanced towards Lydia. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her breasts, observing the scene as it unfolded. It had to be her! She'd set this up. But why?

The action continued unabated as if he hadn't just walked into the room.

A blonde girl was gyrating in someone's lap on the small green sofa. The leather trousers around his ankles and flowery shirt still on his back left Daniel in no doubt that it was Harry. Frankie was beside him, his top hat still on his head as another blonde energetically fucked him.

Patrick had removed his white singlet as he thrust inside a blonde girl against the far wall, while yet another blonde was sucking Tony's cock. A strand of saliva stretched from her lower lip to his bulbous head as she turned her head to look at Daniel, her expression vacant. Then her head was dipping again, her mouth going back to work on his stiff member and taking him deep enough into her mouth that Daniel had no doubt she was deep-throating him.

He almost missed the action on his immediate right, and it was only Susie's groans that diverted his attention from the others. She was perched on the cool surface of a wooden counter, her legs wrapped around a blonde guy as he pumped in and out of her. Her black jeans and tiny red thong were pulled down to her ankles.

Daniel was taken aback and at first thought she was a willing participant, just as Donna had been while he'd watched her onscreen fuck. But the vacant look on Susie's face suggested otherwise. Had she been drugged? His eyes found Lydia's again. Her gaze was expressionless as she pushed away from the wall and began to move sexily towards him.

When a light puff of smoke escaped her nostrils, the pieces of the crazy jigsaw suddenly began to drop into place. He couldn't work it all out, not there and then, but there was enough to know he was in mortal danger.

Clenching his teeth in anger, he took two steps towards the guy fucking Susie and threw a punch. The hard right connected with his jaw, but amazingly it only stunned him. It took two more punches to put him down with a split lip, and then Daniel grabbed Susie's hand.

Lydia reached out to grab him as he pulled the redhead towards the door, and there was something about the look on her face told him there was no escape. As her iron-like grip fastened on his arm, the wild swing of his right fist was more out of sheer fear than expectation. The force of the punch was enough to rock her back on her heels, and he desperately dragged his left arm free of her clutches while he had the chance

Shaking his throbbing right hand to ease the pain spread through it, he grabbed Susie again. She was dazed, confused, and he had to use all his force to pull her along with him as he rushed them out of the room.

It took seconds to find their way to the Emergency Exit and make their out of the building and into the heavy rain. They were drenched in seconds but that matter. Even if he didn't fully understand what was happening, it was apparent that they were fleeing for their lives.

They were free and had to keep going.

But first, keeping hold of Susie's hand in one of his and resting his other palm flat against the cold brick of the outer studio wall, he bent forward and released the contents of his churned stomach onto the wet pavement beside their feet.

*

Daniel cursed himself for having taken a cab to the band's rehearsal. Had he driven himself there, he and Susie would be on their way right now. In the short time he'd had to think, he'd only come up with one option. They needed to visit Professor Steve Russo.

Tom Watkins had told him that Russo was the Behavioural Science Professor at the London Business School, and that he was widely regarded as the world's foremost practitioner in his field. If the Government regularly sought him out when they needed specialist advice, as the Old Man had said, then surely must be fully aware of the phenomenon going on around them. If so, he could be their saviour...

It wouldn't be too difficult to get Russo's address. Off the top of his head, he could think of half a dozen people who could find that for him. He would call each of them when he had time to catch his breath, and hope that at least one or more of them remained unaffected by the spreading epidemic. Epidemic? Was that what it was? He didn't know.

But first things first.

They needed to find a taxi to take them back to his place, and it seemed that cabs were in short supply. Once they reached the safety of his Mews home, he could think through their next steps, put together a few rations, and then drive to see Russo.

At least a dozen cabs must have passed them by before they found one in service. Thank God for that. He checked out the driver before deciding it was safe to enter the vehicle. The man's long grey hair told him it was.

He pushed Susie in first before sliding into the backseat beside her.

"Manor Crescent," he snapped through the partially open gap separating front and back,

"You've got it guv," the taxi driver said, glancing at them in the rear view mirror. "Got caught in the storm?"

Daniel glanced across at Susie and then down at his own wet clothes. Their coats were still in the studio's dressing rooms.

"Yeah," he simply responded. A talkative cabbie was the last thing he needed right now. "Bad timing."

He pushed back into his seat, but however much he tried to relax, there was just too much going on in his head. Besides, the prickly heat that was covering his flesh made him want to itch at his skin to get rid of it. It occurred to him it was a similar feeling to that he'd experienced in the corridor when talking to Tom Watkins, or whoever that had been. His head jerked around to stare out of the rear window of the taxi.

"Pull over for a second would you?"

"Here, Guv?" the cab driver asked, pulling up to a curb.

He half-turned to look at his two passengers, a quizzical look on his wrinkled face.

Daniel was aware of his searching look, but he wanted to focus on the car lights behind them. One vehicle was drifting to the curb, like them, stopping maybe a couple of hundred metres behind them.

"What?" Susie asked, grabbing his hand.

He winced in pain. The swelling was getting worse if anything.

"I'm not sure if we're being followed," he murmured.

"Followed?" the taxi driver laughed, scratching the top of his head. "Let me guess. You're both secret agents?"

"It's a long story," Daniel responded, ignoring the jibe. "You see that black car parked in the bus lane a few hundred metres behind us?"

"I see it."

"Keep your eyes on it as we pull away."

"Keep my eyes on it," the taxi driver chuckled, as he slowly eased the cab back into the traffic.

His amused gaze was trained on the rear view mirror and after thirty seconds he glanced over his shoulder at Daniel again.

"He's still waiting back there, Mr. Bond," he said, with a wide grin. "It's either a false alarm or we've given them the slip. Was it SMERSH or SPECTRE?"

He laughed loudly, enjoying his own joke as he returned his concentration to the road ahead.

Daniel shook his head to himself. Humour didn't figure in his psyche right now. Maybe they weren't being followed but he'd feel happier once they reached the safety of his home. His immediate priorities for them both were a shower, change of clothes, food and a couple of whiskies.

And finding Steve Russo's address, of course. The sat nav system in his car would guide them there.

He glanced across at Susie. "How are you doing?"

"Wet and cold," she softly said, snuggling into him. "What's going on?"

For a few moments, he just stared at her. How much could he tell her? How much would she believe?

"I'll explain later," he softly said. "Just rest for now."

"I can't," she said. Her hand found his thigh. "I'm horny. Very, very horny."

Daniel felt his chest heave. He'd been thinking about that. Lydia must have fed him some sort of aphrodisiac when she'd come onto him at Charlie's club. He'd been constantly aroused ever since, despite his several bouts of lovemaking with Susie.

She must have fed Susie something similar in the studio, otherwise the redhead would never have let that guy fuck her.

But that brought with it another problem. Her need for sex would be extreme for the next forty-eight hours at least. And dammit, he was feeling the need again, too. It was something else to add to his priority list when the taxi dropped them off. Fortunately, they weren't far away.

"We're nearly there," he told Susie, almost reluctantly pulling her hand away when she ran it across the outline of his erection.

Dammit, when had he become that hard?

"I can't wait," she told him, pushing her hand back and squeezing his manhood under the wet cloth. "It doesn't feel like you can, either—"

"Manor Crescent!"

The driver's sudden announcement of their arrival saved the day, but it was his next words that made Daniel freeze.

"You want me to pull in beside the police cars?"

He yanked Susie's hand away and rubbed the inside of the window so that he could peer out into the semi-dark. There were two cars in the street, with two police officers sitting in each. It didn't take much deduction to realise it was his Mews home they were keeping an eye on. Fuck it!

"Drive on." he rasped. "There's a silver Lexus parked about one hundred yards down on the left. Stop beside that, would you."

It was on the curve of the bend, further away from his home than he would usually leave it, but there hadn't been a closer parking space. That was a slice of luck. His car was practically out of sight of the police.

"Sure, Mr. Bond," the driver laughed. It took a moment to accelerate again after he'd slowed down. "I'm enjoying this. Let me guess, that little lady with you is a Russian agent and they have a world-wide warrant for your arrest?"

"You got it in one," Daniel muttered, reaching for his wallet.

"How do you know they're anything to do with us?" Susie whispered, her frightened eyes staring into his.

"One reason," Daniel softly told her. "They have blonde hair."

To her, it meant nothing. To him, it explained everything.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15TH -- MEETING STEVE RUSSO

The cold bit into Daniel's bones as he rang the ornamental front doorbell. It had nothing to do with the low temperatures, or the incessant rain that refused to let up. It had everything to do with the colour of Steve Russo's hair. If it was blonde, the game was up.

Unsure what the future held—for him, Susie, or the world in general—he had told the redhead everything he knew on the journey to Russo's. He didn't pull any punches, deciding that it was up to her how she handled it.

She had taken it all pretty well given the circumstances. Yes, she'd shed tears once, when she realised what would have happened by now to the male members of the band. The band? There wasn't a band anymore, although that was the least of their worries.

It had been a lot for her to take in, but she was an intelligent girl and once she'd recovered from the shock of what he'd had to say, she had surprised him with the depth of her questions. He'd answered them the best he could, but had stuck to the facts throughout. There were still some gaps in his knowledge, and there wasn't any point in sharing his assumptions until Steve Russ had either confirmed or denied them.

The beating of his heart went into overdrive when the door slowly opened, and then relief flooded his body. The man who opened the door had wavy, black hair. Okay, it was grey around the sides, but it was still predominantly dark. This had to be Russo. And from the way his eyes also flickered to Daniel's hair, it was clear they were on the same wavelength.

"Professor Russo?" he asked, standing tall in an attempt to portray some dignity.

It wasn't easy with his wet hair plastered to his scalp and his drenched clothes glued to his skin. The fifteen minute walk along the tree lined drive had taken its toll.

Russo nodded guardedly, the alert eyes leaving Daniel's hair and covering his dishevelled appearance with an almost surgical precision. Once he was satisfied, his gaze flicked to Susie. She had the protection of the heavy coat he kept in the boot of the car around her.

"I don't often get company at this time of the morning," Russo carefully said, keeping his left hand on the door and the right in the pocket of his robe. "How did you get through the gates? My security is pretty tight."

"We came through when they opened for the taxi," Daniel explained. "Maybe twenty minutes or so ago."

There was no room for anything other than the complete truth. This man needed to trust them, just as they needed to trust him.

"And then we walked along the drive," he added.

Russo pursed his lips.

"That explains your appearance," he softly said. "But the cameras didn't pick you up."

"We kept to the shadows. It was important not to be detected until we saw you."

"Which is why you didn't use the intercom at the gate?"

"Exactly."

Russo nodded at Daniel, his eyes uneasily flickering from him to Susie and back again as he pondered on the explanation. When he removed his hand from the pocket of his robe, it was clear he wasn't buying it.

"Forgive me," he said, pointing the small gun at Daniel's chest, "but while your story may be plausible, it seems to me that you've gone to great lengths to avoid my security system. I can't think of a single reason why you would want to do that. Give me one reason why I shouldn't call the police here and now."

Daniel stepped protectively infront of Susie again. He understood Russo's scepticism, but after everything they'd been through he wasn't going to leave here without the Professor hearing him out.

"Because the police might have blonde hair," he responded.

When Russo's eyes widened, he knew he'd hit the mark.

He exchanged glances with Susie, who had also seen the change in Russo's expression, before continuing.

"We've travelled a fair distance in God-awful conditions to get here, Professor," he continued, using the back of his hand to sweep away the raindrops that were falling from his forehead into his eyes. "To talk to you about whatever this thing is that's sweeping across the world."

Russo nodded, although his grip on the gun remained steadfast.

"Why me?"

"Because Tom Watkins told me he was a good friend of yours," Daniel answered firmly.

Russo's eyes suspiciously flicked to Susie, but then returned to Daniel after she nodded in affirmation.

"You know Tom?"

Daniel nodded sadly. "I did. We were good friends, too."

"Were?"

Daniel felt his voice wobble fractionally. "I have reason to believe he succumbed yesterday, Professor Russo, before he could speak to you. That's why we're here."

*

It was almost six o'clock in the morning and the three of them were sitting around the large rectangular wooden table in the Professor's kitchen. Daniel and Susie sat on one side, with empty breakfast plates in front of them. Steve Russo sat on the other.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Russo had suggested they get out of their wet clothes and take a shower before they got down to any sort of meaningful discussion.

It hadn't been that simple, not with the intense arousal still running through Daniel and Susie's veins. They were fucking again as soon as they'd entered the shower room and then again under the warm cascading water. It would provide both their bodies with some short-term relief until the need overtook them again.

When they finally made their way to the kitchen, dressed in only the black robes that had been provided, Russo served them up scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Having an early breakfast in the unfamiliar surroundings, while their very existence was at risk, felt surreal.

Russo patiently allowed them time to devour the hot food, although it was clear from the way he paced the floor that he was itching for Daniel to start on his story. When he did, Russo took a seat opposite them and asked probing question after question along the way.

It was several cups of fresh coffee later when the tale was finally concluded.

"The average person," Russo said, tapping his finger on his lips as he looked at them both, "would think you're either mad or deluded."

Daniel felt his mouth go dry. It wasn't the response he'd expected. The uncomfortable surge of heat that suddenly worked its way up his body made him wonder whether he'd made a mistake taking them there. This guy hadn't believed a single word. Had he? But then Russo allowed himself an ironic smile.

"Perhaps it's just as well that I'm not the average person!"

The sense of relief that the two visitors felt was almost audible.

Russo stood to refill their coffee cups for the umpteenth time as he appeared to contemplate just how to respond.

"What I'm about to tell you is fully classified," he eventually explained, pacing the kitchen floor one more time before returning to his seat. "It could compromise national security."

He picked up the buff coloured file that had sat on the table in front of him throughout their conversation, and idly flipped through a few pages before closing it again.

"Who am I kidding?" he asked with an air of resignation, as he sat back in his chair. "From what you've told me, it seems that we're well past the classified stage. The pace this has progressed in the last forty-eight hours has exceeded even our most pessimistic forecasts."

Daniel exchanged an apprehensive glance with Susie, but waited for Russo to continue. He'd done his talking. Now it was their turn to listen.

"At first we thought it was something to do with Russia. But our best contact there—he was born and raised in Moscow during the Soviet era—did some digging in the highest echelons of the Kremlin. It turned out that they were as puzzled as us. So were China, Japan and the USA, according to our moles there, though everyone was as suspicious of each other as they usually are. Then it was thought this might be a Middle East thing, not for any reason other than we couldn't put our finger on what was happening anywhere else."