Chapter 1

I now knew what it felt like to be in Hell, and it was not the ones in Michigan or Texas either. It was so hot the bugs were crawling under me for some shade. This was not Quantico, if the spiders and snakes joined them next, I quit. Scratching my head with one finger was tantamount to giving up; it was something you just did not do. I did not care anymore. Things were going or already gone to Hell anyway. The primary target either never showed up or kept holed up just waiting for someone to make a mistake, a fatal mistake.

There were a few reasons why something like this might happen. One, we had been provided false information. Two, there had been a leak that now had scared him away. Three, we, me in particular, had been set up; and set up damn well. That last scenario would seem most likely in light of a couple of the last assignments.

I had a terrible thought, one that would haunt me for a long time. I wondered if I had left any food in the microwave when I left. That was probably the only thing I could not control here in beautiful, downtown, Kabul. There were several exit strategies open to me; me, because everyone else would, unfortunately, be expendable. I just hoped when the time came I hit the switches before they hit theirs. What the Hell! It was already night and none would expect an exit when normally body heat would be visible, they would think high noon more likely.

A couple of twists and turns, check the power cells and don the gloves, headpiece and foil jumpsuit and for 27 minutes, or as long as there was power, no thermals would see me. Depress two buttons, confirm the red light going out and exit, stage right. Isn't technology grand?

The downside was that everything that had been in-place would be gone. No one would 'trust' one who did not fulfill a contract, let alone pay the sums we demanded. It seemed a small price to pay considering the options though. I needed a respite anyway. There would be nothing that led to me. No home, friends, family, bank, bills, paper trail etc. Even passports, phones, cars, license were one time use and disposed of meticulously, just like the exit strategy, there would not be any witness left.

The life, if one could call it that, was based on a very simple principle. No emotion. Everything and anything done was part of a plan and the plan was designed to be followed to the smallest detail. This time though, even that was going to be ignored. Time would be something to ignore. Money, gems, gold, bearer bonds, pre-paid debit cards, casino credits, and more were buried or stored away where no one would find them. There was a rule, simple really, live like your neighbors and as if it was the first day of the rest of your life.

Over the years, the $20-30 million saved (A Guess who cared anyway, this was not horseshoes) would provide anything and everything needed to disappear or start over again.

Some of the best places for an Anglo to disappear were London, New York, LA or Toronto. For practical purposes, San Antonio, Albuquerque and Phoenix would work too if you spoke Spanish and could stand the excitement, or its lack thereof, like golf and a tourist shouting, 'By Jove a knocker in One!'. Depending on age and the social life one required, a retired playboy at 29 could draw a bit of attention. I choose to be a writer, a not too successful mystery writer. Phoenix had its good and bad points but few people cared about a poor writer anyhow. At least I thought everyone felt that way.

There must have been a ton of overbuilding in the area. The broker took one look at the 6-month rent I paid up-front, to just hand me over a set of keys, no questions or credit check required, thank you very much. Bus, train, plane and a few taxicabs completed everything I needed for my new life. We did have a community pool, saunas and several hot tubs. The females there were primarily, 'Hot' FAs, nurses and students enrolled in the local college (Not from the weather hot) There were a few single or newly divorced moms with younger children but few complete family units. I lived in a three story-building, suite 13-A, with a great view of the pool. Nosey neighbors were not my kind of people and if it would be fine just to look so much the better for me.

I hated golf with a passion. Horseback riding, especially in the foothills seemed my kind of a pastime. I lost few discussions with my trying to hitch a ride. I could have found a more remote stable, maybe even a ranch, but in keeping to my requirements, a bus or taxi ride was all I would take to get to one. After about a month of cabs I found out about a riding club that was forming a shuttle run from our area to several of the more distant stables. These were near the foothills and would head out several times a day. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, evening trail/group riding was offered also on Fridays, other days you were on your own even if taking lessons.

How a BBQ could turn into relaxing in a hot tub with wine and cheese, I never did find out. I did consider saying no and running away as fast I could but Hell, those girls were so damn cute. I think it was the wet bikini clad beauties in the daytime who came up with the suggestion for a weekend evening R & R, I am not sure anymore, but I couldn't be un-friendly, could I?

Things had sure changed since I had gone to school. Can you say, Barracuda? Plural even. Man, 14 to 50 it did not seem to matter. The kids, students, FAs and nurses seemed to loose those skimpy tops and bottoms a lot, many times even. Hell it was never on purpose I guess but, damn, I was taking many deep breaths and shaking my head, both of them.

Rule No 1 was to never be emotional. Whoever made that rule up never had 10 or 20 naked or near naked goddesses splashing them with water. It was hard, and getting harder, let me tell you. It was the quiet one, the mousy student who wanted to be a writer that one had to watch out for. Of course it would have been easier not to watch her if she had more clothes on. Her attack was well planned and she followed all the details in its execution. Her ultimate success was certain, she would reach her objective, me in this case.

"Would you please rub some sunscreen on me, I'll get too hot otherwise" was her initial foray.

"This suit is Okay, isn't it? It is not too small for me, is it. What do you think?" She was a follower of the multi-attack strategy; I saw.

"I am hoping to be a writer someday! Would you have time to stop over and help me with a few things?" Yep, her tactic seemed to favour a direct frontal approach in which no prisoners were meant to be taken.

I should describe my 'potential' nemesis more. She was about 17 or 18, 5' 2'' tall; 98 or 100 pounds, wet, long dark hair and either Hispanic or Oriental, I never did get up to see her face much. She was a 36-38 DD, with an ass and legs that would not quit. The suit, if you might call three patches of cloth almost covering heaven was definitely not made to see or hear the word, water. It was hot and sunny, for change we had humidity. Sweat was oozing down her body and those postage stamps she wore proved just how 'not' waterproof they were. It took a lot of time to properly apply that sunscreen to her 'ass ets' and my hand might have slipped a few times, my eyes just had to follow, right?.

I think she had me that first day at the pool. We started talking and before I knew what hit me I was agreeing to help her out, anything she wanted. Right, 'whatever' she wanted or needed friend.

She was Joey, I was Sam and if there is such a thing as love at first sight, keep it quiet. That was the last thing I wanted or needed to happen. When she said that she just loved 'bareback' rides, I knew I was in deep shit. Then again, it is possible she was taking about horses. That first visit to her place cleared up any misconception about exactly what she meant. Damn, now what?

If I was a longhorn, she had now tagged, cutout, roped and hog-tied me and I was still smiling. Joey had family in Texas she said; she was 17, a freshman and sharing a small condominium with three other girls. No emotion right. Gee, I had this large condominium right there too. I was a so-called writer, would she consider moving in and taking care of me, I mean the condo, whenever I was away. I could not afford to pay her much, but room, board and a car would be free. I explained my uncertain schedules and offered her the funds to lease her own car for 12 months if she preferred; we could change next year. Joey 'loved' that arrangement, except seemed to balk at a car. I get a ride now from my roommates. There was a god and she was single and now smiling on me, more like a grin.

Joey suggested we not say too much about our business arrangement, some people just would jump to the right, err, wrong conclusion. I was more afraid they would reach the right conclusion, but who am I to judge. Was I the proverbial 'Sugar Daddy', Hell no, I was not married. I would find a way or three to make sure her other bills were paid too. I think I broke Rule 1 a now often with her. With her new 'caretaker' role, she quit her other job. Pretty much everything she needed I provided for, including whatever shopping or expenses she ever had. In between semesters, I even asked if she wanted to go home or me to fly her family out here.

That had some unexpected activity. She wanted to talk. She had some things to both tell me as well as to ask me. I had come full-circle. From not caring about anyone to now thinking that, I did not want this girl out of my life. We sat down.

"This won't require one of us slashing our wrists or drinking a cup of Hemlock in a hot tub, will it?" I tried some writer type humour.

She laughed.

"I know I went after you. Probably too hard. Do you think I am a slut? Are you married? Am I just a plaything you keep on the side?"

Now I had to laugh. "Nope, nope and nope, to answer your questions. I do not think badly of you at all. I am not now, or ever have been married. I don't think anyone would have me, and I do not think of you as a plaything, well not all the time anyhow. I just don't know why you stay with me, honestly."

She started to cry. Why do women always seem to cry?

"I did not tell you some things about me, I am afraid now to tell you them, I don't want to lose you. You have treated me better than my own family. My father's name is Juan Miguel Reynosa from Mexico. He runs a very large Drug Cartel. I ran away, took some money with me and have tried to start a new life!"

I hugged her to me, kissed her tears away. "In that we both just want to start a new life. Besides, there is nothing wrong with a man selling 'Viagra' or 'Cipro', it's a honest living owning a drug store, even a chain of them." The smile I gave her was answered with a headshake from side to side, a huge smile then and her pounding on my arm. Things between us were going to be OK; I hoped I never had to tell her more about my life.

"Where and how will we end up? I have some money but I cannot go back home. What are your intentions, Señor, are they honourable?"

"Well, dust and vacuum once a week, windows too and feed me. You might also warm up my bed at night if it is a day that ends in a 'Y', besides that, any suggestions on your mind of things we might do?"

"You, you, you, Man you! What am going to do with you old man?"

"Ugh, I have some suggestions little girl?"

The big 'L' word, followed by the 'M' thing came up and then something about 'Bambinos'; must be like a Taco or something. 'What to do? What to do?' I thought.

The subject of a car came up again. She was supposed to be back in school in August. We had found 'other' pastimes that summer and between bed, pool and bed, did not have huge amount of spare time. We also found take out, a now twice a week BBQ at the pool, no real need for clothes and had not needed to go out much. Her ex roomies did not do as well like we did.

After a very pleasant wake up call we decided to have a dip while it was still cooler, it never is cool in Phoenix in August unless you are in the foothills.

Our journey down to the pool got delayed when she strolled in holding 1.7 ounces of cloth an a string and asked 'which' she should wear. I gave her the only answer I could. "Gee Jo, I don't know, I need to 'inspect' a bit, you want to make certain they 'don't' cover anything important."

We went to the pool, eventually. It seems that summer people thought of us as a 'couple' or at least an 'item' as her roomies called us. 'Great" I thought. 'Just what I needed, an 'item' in my life'. I hated to admit that was exactly what I needed.

She saw one of her ex roomies sprawled out by the pool. Not that I was looking, mind you, but with my 'keen' powers of observation and years of situational analysis I construed that Vicky was indeed a 'natural blonde or had a great dye job.

Jo skipped to her then took some pool water and splashed her. As we got closer one could see, regardless that her top was on the ground, she had tears. She was as big if not bigger on top than Joey, younger too with pale pink ... I digress. Sorry.

As I was saying. What was I saying? Oh. She was already wet. She had obviously been crying. She held her arms out to Joey, ignoring me and any need to restore her top. The two held each other like sisters, maybe more like lovers but hey, what does a guy know.

"What's wrong Hon? Man trouble?"

"I wish only that! Ever since you moved out things got worse. I know you paid your share of the rent through August. Problem is Julie, Sandy and Monica won't be coming back. Something about forgetting a pill or it was something in the water here. Now I'm stuck. No car or ride to school, no boyfriend and there is no way in 'Hell" L can afford to live here by myself. 'Dump the old man' and move back in."

She looked at me and batted those long, long lashes. I took that to mean she was kidding. Right?

We both spoke near the same time. I was a might slower since no top still adorned those now dripping monuments. Maybe I should... !

Joey voiced, "She needs a place to stay?'

Painfully I sat on a chair. Deep breath, then another. "She needs a car! She needs a car!"

Then with a very different interpretation we both sounded, "And she does not have a boyfriend."

We looked at each other then Vicky lying there. In my mind I could envision another place or two for her. Joey seemed to read my mind. "Do you think, 'Old Man' we could make room for her or is another 'slave' too much for you to handle?

"Man Joey, those collars and chains are expensive. Besides, we would 'break the bank' buying her something to wear. She may have to run around naked?"

Vicky started to undo that patch around her hips. "I hear and obey 'Oh Master of the pool'!"