Taking Morna

"What exactly does a sex slave do, Arland?"

I knew now that she was playing with me. How did I know? Well that was Monica's favorite game. Clever repertoire was her strong point. I got the feeling that Morna would be as good at the game as my wife was and turn out to a far better companion than I had imagined; but I had no idea how long she would be staying with me.

"Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with that. I am sort of new at this game and I was looking for someone who could teach me."

"And you thought that I was a good candidate?"

"Absolutely! You are incredibly beautiful and you have a great body. I can't imagine anyone else for the job."

What had previously been a snicker had now turned into a quiet laugh; but the pixyish smile remained.

Things were quiet for a while. I got gas and we picked up a dozen Krystals and two cokes at a drive-thru window. Her appetite was as good as her attitude.

"How did you find out what my name was and where my homes were?"

"The license plate on your truck."

"I am not stupid. I know that there was more to it than that."

"Oh, there was. A lot more. You would be surprised at what I know about you."

"Why did you decide to leave with me?"

"I already answered that. I know everything about you, Arland Eugene Hawke; everything."

"And I, on the hand don't know a thing about you. I don't even know if Morna is your real name."

" It is. Morna Roberta Keene. So now we are on an even playing field."

"I don't think so."

Somewhere, just south of Birmingham, she turned on the radio. Of course, all of the presets were for Country and Western stations. She flicked through them and then settled in on the one with the clearest audio. Things were quiet for thirty minutes until Garth started singing "Life Goes On," a song that I had written just for him.

"Hey, Arland. How about that? That's one of your songs." She sat up in the seat and smiled my way.

How the hell did she know that?

We grabbed a sit-down meal at the Cracker Barrel along the Interstate in Athens, Alabama. We would be home in a few hours. What the hell was I going to do then?

After we crossed into Tennessee, Morna hunkered down into her seat to get settled in for the last leg of the journey.

"Arland, I was sorry to hear about your wife. It seems as if you had a good marriage. I know that you miss her. If I say or do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, I want to apologize ahead of time."

I don't know what brought that on. I just looked at her and smiled.

I called Rose and asked her to get the guest room ready. When we arrived at the house, I got an odd look from her, but she didn't say anything in front of our guest. Morna seemed happy to take a shower and go to bed. However, Rose and Hector insisted that I retire to the kitchen and explain myself over a hot cup of coffee. I felt like a little kid who had just swiped a piece of candy. Rose and Hector were not happy with my recap of the events and promised another intervention after they got to interview my captive. Monica was still warm in her grave and I bought a young, sexy creature home with no good explanation.

I didn't sleep well that night. I was now feeling guilty; as if I had betrayed the memory of my wife. I have no idea what had motivated me to do something that rash. How could I make this right?

I slept longer than usual and was finally awakened by laughter in the kitchen. It appeared as if Morna had, in some manner, won over my housekeeping staff. She had a way of speaking to people that made them feel comfortable. Was it a silver tongue, a gift of gab, or just blarney. Was Morna an Irish name? I had no idea.

For some reason, I became the brunt of several suggestive comments at the breakfast table. It appeared that Morna had told Rose and Hector about my 'sex slave' comment and they were all having a good laugh about it. The comments were of such a nature that I was both embarrassed and flattered. Morna seemed to be enjoying my discomfort.

After a hardy morning meal, things seemed to normalize. I was now in the embarrassing position of having to explain my rash actions to my guest. Did the word 'guest' even apply? At this point, I didn't know if I had rescued her, kidnapped her, or just seduced her. I immediately discarded the last possibility. I did not have the looks, charm, or verbal skills to seduce anyone.

There was a nice little brook about 100 yards behind the house. It was a year-round stream with large rocks and thousands of little unidentifiable to me, fish. The rough-hewed bench aside of the creek was made from cypress. It seemed like an ideal place to get a few things answered. We sat quietly for a few moments. I had no idea how to start the conversation. Morna saved me the trouble.

"So, Arland? Exactly why did you bring me here and don't give me that sex slave crap again?"

It was a comfortable location and a comfortable place to talk.

"I am not sure. When I first saw you with that Neanderthal I just felt the need to do something." She was smiling.

I looked over when she let out a small giggle.

"What? What was so humorous about that? I was being serious."

"Arland, that Neanderthal was my father, Shamus McCall Keene. He is loving and caring. I am afraid he looks a lot meaner than he really is."

"Oh, crap. Now I really feel like an idiot."

"And so you should. And so you should." She repeated herself just to emphasize the point.

"You are not married?"

"Heavens no! No man in his right mind would have me."

"What does that mean? You are a beautiful and intelligent woman. Any sane man would be lucky to have you."

"Alas, Arland, things are not always as they seem."

I sat quietly trying to absorb things and she sat quietly waiting for me to ask more questions. I felt like a school boy taking a girl out on a first date. We glanced at each other and both let out a little laugh.

"You are not from around here are you?"

"No. We are from Scotland; Portpatrick to be exact."

"I never heard of it." A few more moments of stressful silence passed.

"And exactly why are you here, and why do you appear to be so secretive?"

"Well, it appears that Dad and I screwed that up a bit. We were supposed to blend in so that we wouldn't be noticed."

"I noticed you, but maybe it was just because you were... ". I stopped without completing the sentence. I didn't want to look like a moonstruck teenager.

"I was what, Arland?"

"Striking. That is the best word I can think of. When I saw you, I just put all of the pieces together in my head and found myself interested."

"Did I remind you of Monica?"

"Yes and no. That first day, I felt guilty when I returned to my room. I felt that I was betraying Monica just by noticing you. She wasn't even cold in the ground and I was looking at another woman. It took a whole week for me to sort things out in my head. The good thing was that finding you brought me out of my emotional slump. Just being interested in something again was a big improvement over wallowing in self pity. I miss Monica deeply. She was my first and only love."

I had to stop and pause for a few seconds. Morna put her hand on my knee, not in a romantic way, but in a comforting way.

"Arland. Was your interest in me romantic or something else?"

"I don't know. I wasn't looking for sex or romance. I think I was just worried about spending the rest of my life alone. If that sounds as if I am using you in some manner to replace Monica, I apologize. That is not and never will be my intention. Oh, crap. I am doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Morna, I write songs for a living. Lyrics I can handle, but every time I try to have a conversation with somebody the words always get tangled up. I am just afraid that if we talk any longer, I will say or do something stupid that will hurt your feelings and make me feel bad. Maybe we should just go back up to the house?"

"I am pretty thick-skinned, Arland. Don't worry about me so much."

As we started back up to the lodge, I felt the need to ask another question.

"Morna. Why did your father let you leave with me? You have no idea who I am or what I might do?"

"That is not really true. I couldn't stay with my father too much longer for many reasons. The most important was that he had to get back to work. We had been looking for a safe place for me to stay for a while when he returned home. We were not having a whole lot of luck until you showed up."

"Why couldn't you just go home?"

"It was just not safe."

"Oh, I see. You are a fugitive."

"Sort of. I am not a criminal or anything like that, but there are people who would like to get their hands on me."

"Morna. I am not going to ask you any more questions. I think it is better that people have a few secrets from each other."

"You are a wise man, Arland." She gave my arm a little squeeze as we entered the house.

Hector was busy outside working at something. Rose gave us a glance as we entered the house and I swear that she gave Morna a wink. Morna continued on to her room as I grabbed a mug and starting pouring myself a fresh coffee.

"Mister Hawke. I believe that Ms. Monica would have liked her." Rosa was standing at the sink with her back to me as she spoke.

"Was it wrong for me to bring her here, Rose?"

"It was a little fast, but we don't think it was wrong. Actually Hector and I talked to Robert and Logan after you left. They said that their mother told them to find someone for you after she was gone."

"Why? Why would she do that?"

Rose turned my way and laughed. "She felt that you were unable to take care of yourself and needed a strong woman to guide you."

"Monica said that?"

"Si! Several times. To me and to the kids. Hector and I spend a lot of time trying to figure out who could meet her standards."

"Standards? What standards?"

Rose didn't get a chance to answer as Morna came back into the room. "Ah. I see that you two are plotting something. Do you care to let me in on it?"

"My faithful housekeeper has just informed me that she thinks that you will make an excellent sex slave. She said that the orgy room will be ready this afternoon."

I was rewarded with a wet dish rag that Rose immediately flung towards my face. I couldn't tell which one of them was laughing more; Rose or Morna.

The two of them started jabbering in Spanish as I retreated to the safety of the back porch with my coffee. What was a Scottish girl doing speaking Spanish as if it was her native tongue. They seemed to be having a good time at my expense.

I sat quietly for a long time contemplating what Rose had said. Would Monica really want me to get on with my life? I had given serious thought about spending the rest of my life relishing her memory and writing songs about my memories; our memories. I stared at the empty mug, trying to figure something out. I had nothing. It was time to get things back to normal while I adjusted.

"Rose. I have to run into Nashville to the studio for a couple of hours. Can you keep Morna occupied for a while?"

While Rose nodded in the affirmative, the two of them stood side by side and giggled like school girls. This was going to get interesting.

Writing songs for a living was not all about putting notes and words on paper. I was deep into the grind for several hours when I got the phone call.

"Mister Hawke. Mister Hawke. It is Rose."

"Yes, I know. What is wrong?"

"They have kidnapped her, Mister Hawke. Three men broke into the house and kidnapped Miss Morna."

"When?"

"About an hour ago. I tried to call you, but they all said that you were too busy to interrupt. We called the police and they called the FBI. You have to come home Mister Hawke."

"Okay. Take it easy. I will be home as soon as I can."

"They left a ransom note. They want two million dollars."

"What? Never mind. I am leaving now."

Even with the afternoon traffic, I was able to cover the forty miles in less than an thirty minutes. There were two State Police vehicles out front and an ominous black SUV. For a half an hour, I was busy trying to figure out why anyone would want to kidnap Morna and also how anyone would know that she was even there.

"Mister Hawke. I am FBI agent Hemmings and this is agent Sims." He nodded towards a clone of himself who was madly tapping away on a laptop or I-pad type computer.

"Can I get some type of update or recap of what happened?" I noticed that Hector was holding a frozen bag of peas against the side of his face, while Rose comforted him.

"From what your housekeeper tells us, three men wearing ski masks, entered the house and demanded to see Mrs. Hawke. Mister Morales noticed and followed them in. He attempted to protect his wife and was rewarded with a rifle butt to the side of his head. About that time, Mrs. Hawke entered the room and was immediately incapacitated from behind with a taser or something similar. They grabbed Mrs. Hawke, left a ransom note on the table and left in a white panel truck with Tennessee plates."

I looked over at Rose with an inquisitive look on my face. She shrugged her shoulders in a silent reply.

"Can I see the note?"

"Mister Hawke. If you want to see your wife again it will cost you two million dollars."

"This is a joke, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Agent Hemmings, my wife Monica died six weeks ago in Hytop Alabama. These guys did not kidnap my wife."

"I tried to tell them, Mister Hawke, but they would not listen to me." Rose sounded a little indignant from across the room.

Agent Hemmings stood quietly and looked at me. Agent Sims stopped tapping away at his keys. The room got completely silent.

"Then who did they take?"

"It was our house guest, Morna. She just arrived here with me last night."

"Did they know who she was?" Hemmings seemed concerned.

"I doubt it. Rose what did they say?"

"Like I told them, they wanted Mrs. Hawke. That is what they said several times; 'Mrs. Hawke'."

Hemmings and Sims had a small private conversation while I helped Rose take Hector into the kitchen. A couple of EMT guys arrived, checked Hector out, and announced that he was fit for duty, so to say.

Hemmings asked one of the State Police cars to stay and sent the other one back when the EMT personnel left.

Agent Sims started clacking keys again. "Mister Hawke, what is Morna's full name? If you know, it might help us."

"Morna Roberta Keene."

After a few moments of key tapping he looked up. "Are you certain that that is the name of the woman who was here?"

"Yeah! Morna Roberta Keene. She is from Scotland and I met her in Pensacola.Her father's name is Shamus McCall Keene. That got the attention of Agent Hemmings who had been busy on his smart phone.

"Did you say Shamus Keene?" Hemmings lost all interest in his phone.

"Sir! We have a problem." Sims was quite emphatic as he turned his computer screen towards Hemmings.

"Mister Hawke. Is this the lady that is staying with you?" Sims turned the screen my way so that I could see the picture of Morna in some type of military uniform. I nodded in the affirmative.

At that moment, Hemmings' cell phone rang. "Yes sir! Yes sir! No sir! We did not do it intentionally, sir! She has been seized, sir. No Sir! We just became aware of it. I understand. We will hold put until they get here. No sir!"

With a sigh, Hemmings put his phone in his pocket. "Sims, turn off the damn computer. Get all of our stuff together. We are being relieved."

"Do you guys want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"We can't. Let me just say that as soon as we brought up the Morna Keene web page several government agencies were immediately notified. Special agents are on their way from Huntsville and Memphis. They will be taking over."

"I thought the FBI took care of kidnappings."

"I am afraid this is no longer classified as a kidnapping."

"Rose? Can you make us some fresh coffee; lots of it."

Things were quiet for about twenty minutes when Hemmings got a call. I had a ton of questions, but Hemmings and Sims were not up to any conversation. The phone call was a bunch of "yes sir" and "no sir" comments. When he hung up he looked at me and Sims.

"The Pensacola Naval Air Station is bringing Shamus Keene here by helicopter. He will be arriving within the hour."

Rose was starting a second batch of coffee when the new people started to arrive. The CIA came in an SUV from Memphis. The NSA from Huntsville landed a helicopter in my back yard. It the middle of it all appeared Shamus Keene and he did not look happy. It seemed that everyone knew what was going on. Hemmings and Sims did not have to brief anybody about anything. They quietly left the room for the front porch and seemed a bit relieved.

"Where the hell is she?" Shamus didn't ask. He demanded.

One of the new people had a full-sized computer screen with a map of the local area. A green light was blinking in an area that appeared to be about three miles from the house. "5,000 yards NNE sir and moving this way rapidly."

"Where is the housekeeper?" Shamus was on a roll, but I would not allow Rose to become subject to his wrath. As Rose entered the room I stood beside and slightly in front of her, trying to appear protective in some manner.

"Relax Hawke. I am not going to hurt her."

In a quiet, calm voice, he carefully questioned Rose. "Tell me now, exactly where was Morna when the men attacked her?"

"She had just come out of the kitchen, here." Rose pointed. "The man with the shocker was standing behind the door so that she could not see him. He touched her with it before she even knew that he was there."

"She did not have a chance to defend herself?"

"No! Absolutely not."

"Thank you, Rose." Shamus seemed pleased with the answer.

The CIA agent in charge raised his head from his phone. "We have located the van and the house that they took her to. Our people have taken and secured the area."

"What is the situation?" It appeared that Shamus Keene had taken over the entire operation.

"I need status." was all the CIA man said. About one minute later he got a reply and repeated it.

"Three men dead. One with a broken neck and two with crushed larynxes. No one else is present."

Shamus Keene was smiling. That put everyone else at ease.

"Sir. The target is now 3,000 yards and approaching rapidly."

From the map, it was easy to determine which direction she would be coming from. I decided to wander down to the bench by the creek and wait.

"Where are you going Mister Hawke?"

I smiled at the ugly behemoth. "Would you like to join me?"

"No. No. Take your time. I believe everything is now under control. I'll be waiting here at the house. Do you have any Johnny Walker?"

I nodded to Rose and she smiled on her way to the liquor cabinet.

Hemmings and Sims were sitting on the front porch, looking relieved. I decided to chat a little before taking my stroll.

"Are you guys ready to give me a little more information as to what the hell is going on?"

Sims smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Hemmings sort of laughed and said "Aw hell. Why not?"

"Shamus Keene is an SAS battalion commander. Morna is his daughter."

"SAS? That is a British unit similar to our Navy SEALS?"

"Sort of, but not quite as wet and they have a longer training period."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain anything."

"Shamus Keene is a single parent. Morna's mother died when she was five. Shamus raised her by himself, with a nanny, of course."

I just sat and looked at Hemmings. He knew that I was waiting for more.

"When Morna turned 18, she joined the military. When she requested a transfer to the SAS, she was refused. Women are not allowed in the SAS. Shamus was furious at his daughter's rejection."

"Why would a father want his daughter to become a member of a elite fighting unit?"