Chapter 22

The next morning Chris Collins put on a bathrobe over her pajamas and went out to the suite’s kitchenette. Kelly was standing at the counter watching the automatic coffee maker make coffee. When Chris entered, Kelly looked at her and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

Chris grimaced at Kelly and replied, “As a matter of fact, no. I’ve never heard such noises coming from the next bedroom. How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely wonderful! Chris, I can hardly wait to be married. Then it will all be legal. Actually, I spent a wonderful night,” she answered.

Chris looked at Kelly and said quietly, “This gives me a chance to speak to you alone, anyway. How are you feeling after last night? I’m amazed you could sleep at all.”

“Those weren’t the first dead bodies I’ve ever seen, Chris. I’m sorry things got out of hand. On the other hand, better them than us. I think we happened to meet up with a group of sociopaths. They are some of the guys we’ve lost. It’s largely due to our own fault, I suppose. We should have come down hard on those guys years ago when they were still kids, but we’re dealing with a juvenile justice system whose very name is an oxymoron. There’s no justice in it. We’re so preoccupied with protecting the rights of the accused, we’ve completely lost track of the rights of society.”

As she was speaking, she had seen Chris’s eyes opening wide. Kelly continued, “Chris, I think the problem is a total lack of historic perspective. The first organized police force in the world only came into existence in London in the 1840s. In the scheme of history, that might as well have been yesterday. Here in the United States men routinely went around armed in most places until the turn of the century. I think there’s been a breakdown in the social contract.

“Let’s face it: Organized police forces said to the citizenry, in effect, ‘You need not be armed. We’re armed, and we will protect your life and property.’ Do you honestly think the police are delivering on their side of the contract now? Do you really feel the police are protecting your life and property?”

“But Kelly, surely you’re not suggesting people should go around armed? They would kill each other!”

By now the coffee had finished dripping. Kelly poured two cups, brought them to the small table, and sat down. She said, “Why would they kill each other? Are you suggesting that gun control works? That violent crime has been reduced?”

“That’s not fair, Kelly. Gun control just hasn’t been made effective enough,” Chris protested.

“How about control of dangerous drugs? How about the late unlamented alcohol prohibition amendment? Were they effective enough? I’ve seen no sign of a reduction in drug use. National prohibition was a disaster, in spite of major efforts to control alcohol. Why should you expect gun control to work any better?”

Chris looked at Kelly with a puzzled expression on her face. “Kelly, is my information correct? You’re not yet twenty years old?”

Kelly smiled wryly and replied, “Chris, you’re looking at the world’s only known major general who can’t legally buy a drink! I’m afraid so. But why do you ask?”

“Because I can’t understand you. You’re not twenty years old, yet you’re apparently more knowledgeable about a great many things than I am. I have two degrees and I’m a news professional. Nevertheless, you’re so much more worldly than I am. Could I change the subject?” Chris asked. “The President in his speech last night referred to being wounded in action. Could I see?”

Kelly shook her head and said, “You can look, but there’s really not much to see.” She slipped off her terry-cloth robe and showed Chris where she had been nicked by shrapnel on the shoulder. There was only a tiny, nearly invisible scar. Chris looked over Kelly’s body and then saw the faint scars left by her repeated whippings. Lightly, she ran her fingertips over the marks.

“What are these?” she asked softly, afraid to say what they appeared to be.

“Oh,” Kelly replied matter-of-factly, “that’s where I was whipped. I’ve almost forgotten about them. The marks have almost completely disappeared.”

Chris gave an involuntary shudder. “My God, you really were beaten, weren’t you?”

Kelly smiled and said, “I think I said so last night. I was very serious. I live for Mike Callahan. My goal in life is to try to make him as happy as I possibly can.”

“But that’s not right! You’re a heroine. You’re a model for all young American women. You took on men and beat them at their own game!”

Kelly shook her head sadly. “Chris, you just don’t understand, do you? How do you think I’ve achieved what little I have?”

“Because you’re smart and you’re tough.”

“Wrong! Because I accepted help from anywhere I could get it. I don’t compete. I’m just trying to do a job. My job is to keep Mike Callahan alive. There’s probably more. I’m female. I love to associate with men. I guess I’m reasonably attractive, and I guess I send out sexy signals. My love for Mike shows.”

She grinned at Chris and added, “Chris, the real reason, I suspect, is that I have a well-fucked look. I don’t really know. I do know I’ve seen it with friends. They just move easier. They’re more relaxed and look it. They just glow with happiness. And they’re a hell of a lot easier to live with, too.” She looked at Chris and said, “You’ve never had an orgasm, have you?”

Chris reacted as if she had been slapped. “What a thing to say! Of course I have. Lots of times!”

Kelly smiled and shook her head sadly. “No, Chris, you haven’t. If you had, you wouldn’t react the way you just did. You just couldn’t possibly. Do you know what? You remind me of a person listening to a conversation about foreign foods. Our taste vocabulary is very limited, by the way. You hear the words, you know what the words mean, but you have no sense of what the food would really taste like. You’ve never experienced it yourself.

“I think it’s the same way with sex. You may have heard a girl talk about cuming, how her pelvis takes on a life of its own — how she totally loses control.” Kelly smiled warmly. “In my own case I often pass out. I honestly do. I lose consciousness. I guess it’s a sensory overload, like a circuit breaker tripping out.

“Last night was fairly normal. I guess I must have cum about five or six times. Mike and I were pretty tired so I think we just collapsed in the middle one time. But you know what? I always wake up the same way. I sleep on his right and shape my body as close to his as I can. He has his arm around me and his hand cups my right boob. In the morning, if I wake up first, I squeeze his hand. If he awakens first, he squeezes my boob. Then we make love, slowly and sleepily.”

She grimaced, but her eyes were glowing with happiness. “This morning the bum takes me, I soar to my peak, and then collapse. He gives me this shit-eating grin and goes back to sleep. Chris, you’ve never experienced that, have you?”

Chris didn’t answer directly. Instead she said, “He squeezes your breast? That could cause breast cancer!”

Kelly smiled and shook her head. “Chris, you won’t ever understand! Breast cancer? Chris, if Mike wanted it, I would cut off my breast and cook it for him. I really would.”

While they were talking, Kelly had been cooking breakfast. She had made bacon and a beautiful western omelette. She put the food on two plates and said, “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

Chris just looked at the food on her plate. “What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s breakfast. What does it look like?” Kelly replied.

“But ... but it’s got cholesterol, and animal protein, and...” the girl protested.

Just then Bill appeared in the kitchen doorway and sniffed appreciatively. He picked up Chris’s plate, took it to the counter and started eating. She looked at him in amazement. “What in hell are you doing? That was mine!”

“True,” Bill replied, “but as you said, it’s loaded with cholesterol and all that other bad stuff. I would hate to see you have problems like that.”

He looked at Kelly and shook his head. “Kelly, I would suggest you offer Chris some rabbit food, but then I realized that wouldn’t work. I doubt that, even if you had any, it would have been grown under the proper organic conditions — no pesticides or herbicides — and picked with union labor.”

He grinned and continued, “Kelly, you have no idea how hard it is to be a liberal these days. There’s this ever-lengthening list of things one must do and can’t do. It really complicates the process of living.”

When Bill had come in Kelly noticed two things about Chris. First, her face showed a flash of embarrassment; obviously she was concerned that Bill had overheard at least a part of their earlier conversation. Second, she straightened her bathrobe and sat up a little straighter in her chair causing her breasts to appear more prominent.

A few moments later Mike appeared. He took Kelly into his arms. It was obvious to the others that Mike and Kelly didn’t deal in perfunctory kisses. Chris could see that Kelly’s eyes were glazed as she leaned back, supported by Mike’s arms. There was a glow on her face, and Chris heard her whisper, “Good morning, my husband.”

Chris felt a twinge as she watched the couple. She started to have doubts for the first time about things she thought she believed in deeply. Then she saw Kelly give Mike her brightest smile and a quick kiss. She poured him a cup of coffee and turned to the stove to make another omelette.

Chris turned to Mike and declared, “You have a hell of a nerve! It’s your breakfast. Why don’t you cook it?”

Mike refused to take offense. He just shook his head and smiled at the reporter. “Chris, I’m afraid you don’t understand. You see, Kelly has a big investment in me. She’s saved my life about five times now. She long ago decided that she would be putting her investment at serious risk if she allowed me to eat my own cooking let alone inflict it on anyone else. As a matter of fact, I came to the conclusion a long time ago that the sure sign of Kelly wanting to get rid of me would be if she allows me to cook. That will mean she no longer cares if I poison myself.” He looked at Kelly, now turning the omelette out of the pan, and said, “Right, honey?”

“I told you he was smart,” she said to Chris. “He understands me perfectly. Of course, there are compensations. He knows what will happen if he has to eat his own cooking. What he does is keep me in a constant sexual daze so I don’t even notice that I am cooking. That requires a certain effort on his part.”

She turned to Mike and said, “Honey, I have an idea that grew out of the events last night. I was thinking of asking Ken and Mary Haris to report to Washington. You know how the police sometimes use stakeout teams? How about if those two just walked around residential Washington?”

Before Mike could reply, Chris said, “You couldn’t do that! It would be entrapment.”

Kelly just shook her head sadly and said, “Chris, with all due respect: Bullshit! Entrapment occurs when you cause someone to do something he wouldn’t normally do. For example, let’s say you leave a large amount of currency in an open bag on the floor in a public place. If someone picks it up, that would be entrapment. You pushed personal honesty pretty hard. I’m talking about having a young couple walk down the street in residential areas. Under what conceivable legal theory would that be entrapment?”

Chris was on the defensive, but she held on. “It would be an irresistible temptation. It wouldn’t be fair!”

“Chris, honey, the only persons to whom it would be ‘an irresistible temptation’ would be to predators such as we met last night. ‘T’would none of them be missed!’” She turned back to Mike and said, “What do you think, honey?”

“I think it’s a great idea. I’ll see about it right now.” He left the kitchen and went to the sitting room to make a phone call. Mike came back shaking his head and grinning. “It’s all set. Incidentally, I just learned I’ve been selected for brigadier general. I’m the first in my West Point class. Of course we’re all way behind some cute little high-school dropout!”

Kelly gave him a congratulatory kiss and then stuck her tongue out at him. “I am not a dropout! I have my diploma!”

Chris asked about the day’s plans. Mike said that Kelly had a date in Connecticut. “Chris, I think you, particularly, will be interested in what happens. We’ll be leaving from Andrews Air Force Base in about two hours.”

They dressed. As they did, Kelly asked Mike, “Honey, now that you’re a general, you rate an aide. Have you given it any thought?”

Mike stopped what he was doing. Kelly’s question had taken him completely by surprise. Were it not for Kelly herself, he would be the youngest general in the Army at the age of twenty-six. The idea of having an aide had never entered his mind. Kelly whispered in his ear. He looked surprised for an instant, grinned, and then kissed her. “Darling, you don’t know how wonderful it is to have a brilliant wife! I think it’s a great idea!”

They drove out to Andrews where an Air Force jet was waiting for them. They got aboard, the door was closed and the plane moved out to the active runway. The plane was the Air Force version of a DC-9 set up in VIP configuration.

Kelly grinned at Mike and bounced in her seat as the plane taxied. “Honey, this is definitely the way to go!”

As the plane taxied, a steward poured coffee for them. After they took off, they were served a breakfast snack. The flight was very short; soon they were landing at Bradley International Airport. After taxiing to the Air National Guard hangar, the plane’s engines were shut down.

A sergeant was standing by a car which was waiting for them as they got off the plane. He snapped his very best salute at Kelly who returned it with a smile. “General Jackson? I’m Sergeant Howard. I’ve been detailed to drive you while you’re in the Hartford area.”

They all got in the car, and Sgt. Howard drove off the apron, out to the Interstate and then headed south towards Hartford. Chris asked where they were going, and Kelly replied that they were going to the Smith & Wesson plant. They pulled up at the door of the administration building and Howard ran around the car to hold the door for Kelly, again giving her a very snappy salute. Kelly returned it smartly.

As she passed close to him she whispered, “Sergeant Howard, aren’t you overdoing it just a bit?” Her smile took away any sting in her words.

Howard grinned back and replied in a whisper, “Normally, yes. For Kelly Jackson, hell no!”

Kelly walked in to the building’s main entrance. As soon as she entered, the receptionist ran around the desk to greet Kelly with her hand extended. “General Jackson? I’m Sandy Cartwright. Welcome to Smith & Wesson! We’re delighted you could come to see us.”

Kelly looked at the girl who, like Kelly was tall and slim. “Sandy, by any chance were you the girl they used to tailor my vest?” The girl blushed and shyly nodded her head.

Kelly took her in her arms and hugged her. She then gave her a warm kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Sandy, thank you for saving my life!” Stepping back she said in her normal tone of voice, “I think Mr. Johnson is expecting us.”

She looked at Sandy thoughtfully and then asked, “Would it be possible for someone else to cover the desk for a while? I would very much like you to come along with us, if you could.”

The girl made a phone call, and a few moments later another girl came out and took her place at the front desk. Sandy took them to the executive floor and then to Johnson’s office where they found him standing at the doorway waiting for them. After Kelly shook hands and then introduced Mike, Bill, and Chris, she quickly explained that she had learned Sandy Cartwright was the girl on whom the vest had been shaped. She wanted her to be with them for the day. Fred Johnson quickly agreed.