Chapter 53: Quincy

Stutter ... Shift

“Charles, good grief,” Tamara laughed, “That was not funny.”

The man grinned, never awkward except when it was just the two of them alone. In front of others, Charles Utah was the most charismatic man in the room, but in the rare moments he and Tamara were on their own, his carefully-controlled demeanor became a little hesitant. It was like he tried just a little too hard to impress her.

Tamara found it adorable. Sure, he was a reasonably attractive man, and, in some other life, she would certainly have given him a shot to take her to bed. But she was married, reasonably happily, and with all the other deep secrets Charles had gotten them involved in, Tamara was not about to add adultery to her list.

“Sorry,” he said, “I heard that one from the Russians who came into town last week. I thought it was clever.”

“Not nearly up to your usual standards.”

“My standards are rather high, I agree.”

His eyes lingered on her a moment too long, and Tamara looked away.

“Sorry,” Charles said, “Quincy, I’m sorry. I know you’re married, I ... I shouldn’t look at you like that.”

Tamara shrugged, not really bothered by his attention. Just the opposite, really. It was just flirting, after all. “It’s fine.” Her eyes met his just long enough to let him know there was an interested there, but short enough to suggest it could go no further.

“So,” he said, shrugging and shuffling his fingers rapidly across the keyboard, “what to help me settle a score with two Russians who stiffed us and left me with an inadequate joke?”

Tamara grinned, “Naturally.”

Stutter ... Shift

“I don’t walk to talk about it, Charles. I just ... need to not work with Mason for a while, okay?”

“Your husband is core, Quincy! You can’t not work with him.”

“Then I quit.”

“Just tell me what happened. I can help!”

“Don’t push it, Charles. Just drop it. Give me a few days. I just need to think.”

Charles sat the device he’d been showing her onto the desk and lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Quincy, whatever happened. If I can help...”

His soft tone helped her calm down a moment. “Thanks, but I’ll deal with it. I need to fly home and confront him. I’ll be in touch.”

Stutter ... Shift

“What do you mean he won’t be around? I fucking need him, Quincy!” Charles’s anger was slow to rouse, but this time he was in an absolute rage. “What did you do?!”

“I did nothing, Charles. Nothing at all. He decided to walk away. Not me.”

“Goddamn, woman. It is vital he fly in immediately. We turn this deal or we lose it. It won’t work without him here!”

She shrugged, “Sorry. Out of my hands.”

Stutter ... Shift

“I’m glad you’ve both decided to be reasonable,” Charles said calmly in that silky voice which always seemed to lessen the tension in any room. Across the table, Gene growled to himself, but he didn’t continue the argument which flared up just moments earlier as he and Tamara saw each other for the first time in weeks in the hallway outside. “Reasonable,” Charles continued, “is how we move forward. Now, I don’t care one bit about your personal life. But I do care when it affects our work. Poppy will be here shortly. I expect you’ll both remember your place in this plan? It needs to be ... perfect...”

Tamara nodded. She was still furious at Gene. He’d been meeting with some woman named Vangalina over the past several months. She wasn’t completely sure that Charles was ignorant. She’d seen him flinch, just once, when she’d used the name. Gene had refused to discuss it, saying only that Tamara had misunderstood something, that he wasn’t cheating. But there were signs of his infidelity all around, and she’d seen them before. This wasn’t the first time Gene had strayed. But it might be the last.

Stutter ... Shift

“Charles ... I’m tired ... Poppy’s left for the day. Gene’s ... somewhere else ... Can’t we just take a break?”

The man looked up from his monitor and keyboard, pausing to see that Tamara’s expression held a measure of something other than exhaustion. “I ... I suppose...”

Tamara hadn’t really meant to try to seduce the man, or maybe she had. She really wasn’t sure. Gene’s behavior, namely his cheating and then the denial of his affair, had torn Tamara apart. Something broke inside her, and right that moment, she wanted to fill that break with something pleasurable. Charles was right there, reasonably handsome, attentive when needed, and she knew his interest in her went well beyond their secret projects for Whitehead. He’d never come onto her, never suggested she come to his bed, and that made it all the more intriguing for Tamara to take the lead.

She stood and leaned over him, taking one hand in hers and stroking it. Charles seemed nervous. He never seemed nervous. Awkward, in private moments with Tamara, but never nervous. It brought a delighted smile to her face.

Stutter ... Shift

“Oh, Charles...” Tamara was on her back, legs spread, in the bed Charles used when he was in this apartment a few times a year. His form was awkward and uncertain, his movements more so, but Tamara loved it, regardless. It was like teaching a young boy about pleasure. Each step, she instructed him, guided him. Even to the point where his hard cock slid home, she coached his movements. “That’s it,” she breathed, “just like that ... just like that ... you’re making me cum...”

Stutter ... Shift

“No, Charles, Goddammit!” Tamara shouted from across the room, keeping her distance from the man whose behavior had become increasingly bizarre over the last few months. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t understand you, Quincy! Only I get the real you! Please, leave with me and we’ll put everything behind us ... everything!”

Gene’s infidelity had led to a strained period in their marriage, but they had not broken, and over the last few weeks, things had gotten much better. Tamara didn’t tell her husband about the three times she’d bedded Charles, and she had no desire to do so. Lately, Charles had been aggressive. Tamara last shared a bed with him many weeks earlier, at first telling him the timing was wrong and encouraging him to work on Whitehead projects. More recently, Charles seemed to fixate on Tamara, talking ill of Gene, clearly lying about events Tamara knew had never happened. Charles was a manipulator, Tamara knew, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it from her then.

“He understands me well enough, and I told you ... What happened between us was a passing moment, something we both needed at the time, nothing more. It will never happen, Charles. Just unlock the fucking door and let me leave!”

Charles held the unlocking remote in his fingers, turning it over. He was fuming, as he did a lot lately, but then he calmed. A smile spread over his face. “One day, my dear, you will regret this. I promise you that. One day, you’ll remember what you could have had, what we could have been, and you’re going to regret this decision. One day ... you’re going to wish you’d chosen differently when your life is in my hands...”

Tamara’s pulse raced, afraid that Charles was planning to kill her. Instead, she heard the various locks open behind her, one by one. She stared at him a moment. “I’d done with Whitehead, Charles. Forever.”

“Oh, we’ll see, my dear. We’ll see...”

Stutter ... Shift...

The battle for the port complex had ended moments after Logan had killed three enemy soldiers and wounded two more. The main fight had turned when Major Danielson and her guard of three or four tough veterans took captive the enemy company commander, causing the will to fight to bleed quickly from the opposing forces.

Logan had begun to shiver and feel quite weak immediately after the sounds of battle had died off. His ears were full of thick cotton, it seemed, his hearing clearly suffering from the long minutes of loud noises and concussive blasts. He slumped against the side of a warehouse and tried to regain his composure.

It was only starting to sink in that he’d killed three people. Two more were wounded and taken prisoner, and Logan knew they might die, as well. All because he’d been a hero. It left a bitter sting in his mouth. Why would a hero feel bad about doing the right thing?

“You alright, son?”

Logan looked up to see Major Danielson staring down at him. He tried to nod but it turned out to be more of a drooping slide further down.

She squatted and watched his face. Logan felt tears coming on.

“First time I ever killed somebody ... I was sixteen,” she began.

Logan listened as best he could through cottony ears.

“Was alone, near my home, got grabbed by this man and thrown into his truck. He tied me up, planning to rape me. I got lucky. The rope slipped and I was so angry that I used a screwdriver to stab him over and over and over and...” She was clearly reliving the experience and Logan watched her pause, shiver, and then Major Danielson collected herself. “The point is, Logan, sometimes killing is right. It’s not easy, it’s not fun unless you’re a psychopath or a sadist. Mourn, my boy. That’s natural. I cried my eyes out for days after I killed my wannabe rapist. But it was the right thing to do. No other young girls would suffer at his hands.

“You killed the enemy today, Logan, and do you know why it was the right thing to do?”

He thought a moment, then wearily shook his head.

“Because they would have killed you. They would have killed me. And Erol and every other ally you have on this island. And they would have tried to find your mom, and your dad, and your brother and sister, and they would have tried to kill them, too. Take comfort in that, my boy. Take comfort in knowing you suffer now for what you’ve done so that others don’t suffer later. Others you love are safer because of your sacrifice. I won’t pretend it’s easy, Logan, but it is necessary.”

He felt a little resolve inside him even if it was largely drowned out by his emotional response to the events of the day. “Okay...”

Major Danielson looked out over the complex, silent.

“Uh, can I ask a question?”

“Of course,” she replied.

“What happened to the tank?”

Major Danielson shook her head and gave him a frustrated smile, “Never was a tank, it seems.”

“What? I thought they had one.”

“Fog of war, my boy. Fog of war. Information in battle is incomplete, at best, and incorrect at the worst times. There was no tank. Just a mistake. Good for us, yes? One fucking tank would have been a little difficult to deal with. We have no anti-tank weaponry here. Might have taken a fucking Sergeant York sort of hero to run a Satchel charge up on it.”

Logan managed a weak grin. “I’d have done it.”

Major Danielson smiled at him. “I have no doubt, solider. No doubt at all. Rest up. We’re gonna evac out of here in about thirty mikes.”

“Where are we going?”

“Israel. On our way to HQ to consolidate our forces. The fight is getting stretched out, thin in spots. Good time to check our strategy and use our forces where they can have the most impact. You’ll be happy to learn, I’m sure, that your family, all of them, are fine. Just had word from the man Bridgewater himself.”

“That’s great!”

Weary, emotional, overwhelmed, Logan curled into a ball and hid his head as Major Danielson rose and left him alone. He cried hard, perhaps harder than ever before. Deep in that personal, confusing misery was a nugget of happiness that he might get to see his parents and siblings again some day. He wondered how much would have changed for all of them before that moment happened.

Stutter ... Shift

The Chancellor’s manner was a mask of control and cleverness. Tamara needed little observation to see that the man really thought a lot about himself. Not quite openly pompous, certainly a tone of arrogance, but it was an indulgent arrogance, a charismatic personality accepting that other people must, in some way, assist his rise to even greater power and glory.

“And so, you see,” the man said to the four of them gathered in the jet’s comfortable lounge area, “the good Barron’s skills will be put to great use. Great use.”

“We don’t take in strays, Chancellor,” Charles Utah growled with less menace that Tamara felt necessary. The man talking to them had only recently been introduced to the group, and while he was clearly a man of means and power, his insistence in bringing in his own operator was meeting furious resistance from Charles. “We don’t work with people we don’t know.”

“I understand, my good man,” the Chancellor replied, “I so understand you. And that is why we are on our way to meet with him. I promise you, all of you, will be surprised by how many skills he brings to your team. Not just creativity and improvisation, but planning, and strategy, and ... I daresay ... some unique talents the likes of which you’ve never known.”

“What sort of talents,” Poppy asked to Tamara’s left. The woman displayed the least emotion of all of them, a rare thing when Charles Utah was in the room. Poppy’s demeanor suggested openness to the Chancellor’s ideas, but Tamara knew the woman well enough to see through her mask. Poppy was pressing for weaknesses, and if it wasn’t Charles doing the pushing, it was good to see the woman probing the Chancellor’s suggestion with a delicate knife. “We have a wide range of talent, here tonight and elsewhere.” Only Tamara, Gene, Charles, and Poppy had been brought to the inpromptu meeting at thirty-thousand feet, on their way to Nova Scotia to meet with a man calling himself Baron Quick. The other members of Whitehead would be informed if anything came of the meeting.

Everyone was in on the ruse of ignorance but the Chancellor. The seated members of Whitehead were already familiar with Baron Quick. The act had to be convincing, though.

“Ah, my dear, it is not really for me to describe to you the wondrous means at Quick’s disposal. He is, shall we say, a man of many ... techniques.”

“You’re dodging,” Poppy replied.

“So I am, so I am,” the Chancellor responded with a wave of his hand. “Do you have among you a man, or woman, capable of planting seeds of doubt? Of ensuring a certain person remembers events in a way you can control?”

“What are you talking about,” Charles muttered, “sounds like hogwash.”

“Not hogwash, my man, not one bit. No, I fear, instead, that I am doing the good Baron a disservice. I can only understate his abilities. I cannot do them justice.”

“So, what,” Tamara asked, “is he some sort of ... brainwasher? Torturer?”

“Not the latter, I think,” the man replied, “not intentionally, anyway. But your first guess ... closer to the mark, perhaps, but once more, it does his work no justice. I feel you can only accept his genius by seeing him in action.”

Tamara saw Charles flinch, and Gene’s posture became a little defensive. You’re overdoing it a little, boys, Tamara thought. Gene growled, “If you’re planning a demonstration on one of us, you’ll be dead before we reach the ground. That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“No, no,” the Chancellor waved away Gene’s concerns, “We have a subject ready for tonight’s demonstration. You four will only watch, of course. I would never do anything beyond our agreement.”

Tamara knew that last statement was an obvious lie, but it did nothing to call the man out on it. “And what, exactly,” she said, “does Baron Quick do for us to help you achieve your goals, Chancellor?”

The man smiled. The look wasn’t exactly evil or cruel, but something about his expression raised Tamara’s hackles. “My plan involves a long wait, my dear. I need ... certain things ... hidden ... until I am ready to activate the final steps. Baron Quick will bring the ability to ensure such things ... remain locked away ... until I am ready.”

“We still know almost nothing, Chancellor,” Charles said evenly. “We don’t even yet know how exactly we fit in to all this.”

“You will, I promise,” the man responded. “Before this day is out ... you will...”

Stutter ... Shift...

Gene woke with a start to feel Lauren’s body against his, Finch cradled on her other side. They were in a narrow bed, crammed together. It took a moment to remember the state of things and Gene’s stomach soured all over.

Tamara was in a coma, of sorts, restless in her unconsciousness. Mumbling incoherently a few seconds before growing still and silent again. Lee Lee and the medical staff were uncertain what was happening. Something in the sounds played had triggered the reaction in Tamara, but as of yet, no one knew how things might turn out. For all Gene knew, she was locked away, forever. He wished he’d protested more, done something to keep this all from happening, but it was too late for that, and Gene stewed, miserable and heartbroken, clutching his daughter as tight as he could against him.

They’d been convinced to get some rest by Holly, the short blonde’s compassion deep and a small silver lining in a very cloudy day. Gene had led Lauren and Finch into a private bunkroom and together, they’d crawled on top, his kids soon snoring lightly and Gene not far behind. The exhaustion was extensive and deep, and despite his desire to remain alert and beside his wife, he recognized the need to get rest while her condition remained unchanged over the long hours.

Gene gripped Lauren and kissed her neck on instinct. It wasn’t really sexual, the way his penis hardened. There was weakness in him, vulnerability, the real possibility of losing his wife sinking in. He needed assurance, most any sort, and having Lauren’s warmth against him stirred deeper reactions than he could control.

He let her sleep, though, not doing much more than holding her, sometimes touching her face gently, his teen daughter’s smooth skin so lovely to stroke and caress. She looked so much like her mother when she slept. Peaceful. Beautiful. He thought back to the day he’d mated with Lauren, fucked her, made love with her, and it did nothing to calm his erection despite the sadness invading his every thought.

A hand slid down between them and Gene felt Lauren’s fingers press against the bulge in his slacks. She stroked it slowly, gently, then Lauren turned over to face him suddenly, staring into his eyes. She whispered, “I need you so much, Dad...”

“I need you, too, Lauren ... God, I need you.”

They kissed and caressed each other, and Gene’s fingers started to draw down his daughter’s pants and slide inside her panties.

Finch knew there was movement a moment before he opened his eyes. He could feel the bed shifting. The sounds of moderate breathing, light sighs, gave away what was happening. His eyes cracked open, weariness still heavy in his body, but when he saw the way his father was moving over Lauren, her legs spread, Finch’s cock responded the only way it could.

Lauren turned to watch him as their father penetrated her. She sucked in her breath, staring at Finch. Her hand came to his face and she touched his cheek, then she moved the hand lower, lower, stroking his erection through his pants. Finch strained. He saw his father’s tired smile watching him, each thrust into Lauren smooth and gentle. Finch simply loved seeing that moment.

Her father sliding in and out of her pussy, Lauren slid a hand down Finch’s pants and grasped his cock. It was smaller than her dad’s but it had clearly grown a bit over the weeks on the run, catching up in size quickly to the man inside her. Lauren shuddered as her dad elongated his strokes, hitting her cervix when he was fully in, then pulling back till just the tip of his penis was still nestled inside her wet vagina. It felt so good to let her father fuck her.

“Would you like to fuck your brother?” her dad whispered as they both watched Finch starting to hump Lauren’s fist. Her father’s question seemed to be less about Lauren’s desires and more about her dad admitting this was something he longed to see.

“Yes...”

Gene slid off Lauren’s body and stood beside the bed, his cock wet from Lauren’s creamy cunt. He watched as his son shed his pants and quickly crawled between Lauren’s thighs, replacing Gene’s dick with his own, soon humping his sister in movements more rapid and urgent than Gene’s had been.

He just watched, stunned and loving the way his children kissed as they mated. It was lovely, simply lovely. The two had fought so much over the years that this display of genuine affection, sexual or otherwise, was a real blessing in that troubling moment.

“Dad,” Lauren breathed, moving her head to the side, “I have room for both of you...”

Gene didn’t understand. “What, Sweetheart?”

“I have room for both of you,” she repeated.

Lauren gently pushed Finch off of her, rolling the boy onto his back, his cock bobbing and wet. Gene knew it had grown over the years, but it looked rather impressive for a boy Finch’s age, especially with white cream from Lauren’s pussy coating the shaft.

Lauren mounted her brother, sliding her pussy down his length and holding it there while she pushed back her knees, causing her lovely young, smooth ass to spread and push up a bit. “I’m ready for you, Dad...”

Gene knew what his daughter wanted. God, was he excited. So excited that a jet of precum spurted out of his cock as he knelt behind her, his legs outside both kid’s thighs, the precum splashing right against Lauren’s tiny little anus. Gene rubbed saliva all over his length, then used the precum and more saliva to make her tight entrance slippery. He felt her butthole clenching his finger tight. It was going to be a challenge to slide inside, but once he thought she was wet enough, Gene pushed the head of his cock against his daughter’s asshole and started to press against the wrinkled opening, hoping it would yield.

Finch could feel the pressure building along the top of his cock from where his father’s dick was penetrating Lauren’s ass. He knew, personally, how good it felt to fuck his sister there, and Finch did his best to hold still, cock throbbing in Lauren’s cunt, while their father’s penis stretched Lauren’s butthole.

“Oh, God ... Dad! Uhnnn...” Lauren felt more full than ever in her life. Finch’s dick was swollen and throbbing in her pussy, her father’s larger cock stretching her anus like nothing before. It took long moments of careful movement before she felt comfortable enough to move.

But move she did, rocking her body back and forth, both dicks sliding perfectly in and out with her motion. She gasped, mouth wide open in a breathless cry. Lauren felt her father’s hands caressing her ass as he started to move, meeting her rhythm with gentle thrusts. Each one felt like it was ripping her open, but the pain reduced to discomfort and then became pleasure so suddenly that Lauren shuddered into orgasm, her holes squeezing two cocks tightly in blissful release.