Chapter 28

Jill and Anya joined us in the living room, Anya looking much better than before. Her hair was clean and blow dried, and she was wearing a fresh orange jumpsuit and tennis shoes.

Dr. Wills sent Jill back to her office, and Mr. Jones, the Doctor, Anya and I piled into the SUV and headed back to CIA headquarters.

"I've been wondering," I said as we drove out of Georgetown, "what are you a Doctor of?"

"Believe it or not, Theology. I was an Episcopal Bishop before I took this job."

"Kind of an odd career path you've chosen." I said.

"You have no idea how often I've thought the very same thing."

"Have you ever been sorry you took the job?"

"Not until recently. But more than anything else, it's been a matter of reexamining what I think this job should be and could be, versus what I'm sure the politicians would prefer it to be."

"Something along the lines of a Torquemada, perhaps?" I joked.

"See, I know you're kidding, but the sad thing is there is a large contingent of our elected officials that would just love for that to happen. And the truly frightening thing is, you would be perfect for what they have in mind."

"I'd never go along with what they want."

"I know that... and I believe that they are just beginning to realize it as well. Which means there are going to be a lot of people not too happy to see you take over from me."

"Yeah. Ain't it great to be popular?"

"It may be difficult to get you into Congress for the sub-committee meetings. If I were them, I'd have the Congressional Police looking for you as well as the Secret Service and the FBI... if they have as much pull as they appear to."

"Thanks for reminding me... would it be possible to acquire the services of a first class makeup artist? My most identifiable feature is my skin, followed by my hair. If we can make my skin and hair color look less like me and more like someone else I might be able to get inside without being noticed."

"An excellent idea. We'll look into it. In the mean time, I'd suggest that you stay put on the ranch until it's time to meet with Congress."

"After I visit Walter Reed and after I kill the Director. Then I'll sit tight."

"I suppose it would be best to get rid of the Director first... the Deputy Director would only be a caretaker and probably wouldn't be interested in continuing our current DCI's foolish vendetta. But why do you want to go back to Walter Reed?"

"Anya says the Senator has someone from the Psych Ward in her pocket and I want to know who set me up."

"You don't think Colonel DeBerg is involved in this mess, do you?"

"I hope to hell not... I like the man and I trust him. If it turns out I was wrong, I'm going to be very unhappy."

Our arrival back at CIA headquarters was an event that I don't believe anyone expected. Dr. Wills, Anya and I got out of the SUV and while Mr. Jones drove off to park the vehicle, the three of us walked inside and were immediately confronted by Agents and Security personnel. Guns were drawn, rifles were aimed, shotguns were in view along with tasers and a grenade launcher. I was impressed. By my count there had to be more than forty armed men facing us.

"I haven't seen this many men with guns looking to kill me since I left Iraq." I said absently.

"Looks like the Director has decided to get pro-active." Dr. Wills muttered.

Anya slipped in front of me, ready to shield me. I put my hands on her shoulders.

"Not yet... not just yet." I said under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. "Doctor, do you see the Director anywhere around here?" I asked louder.

"No, I don't."

"Okay, fine... I've had enough of this shit. My move."

'Now? Can I now, finally?'

"Yes, now. Fuck 'em all up."

'Yes! Who's your Daddy, muthafuckas?' the darkness bellowed. I linked with every single person in front of me, and released the amplified and magnified female orgasms to the darkness who took the emotions and fucked the men in front of us with them. Emotionally fucked them. Jammed the sensations in and out and round and about, deeper and harder without compassion, sentimentality or concern for the effect such powerful female emotions would have on men.

The simple fact is that men are not designed to cope with the female orgasm. We can't handle it. I've experienced them from the age of thirteen on and I can state for a fact that we just can't handle them. Too strong and too long. We men like our orgasms short and sweet. Human male physiology is designed around the short orgasm, with a delay built in for recovery... a survival trait. It's not known as the 'little death' for nothing. The female, on the other hand needed to stay put for a while to ensure fertilization would take place. So they got the longer, more disabling dose of fun, to keep them horizontal longer.

The CIA should have invested in more female agents and security guards, because every damn one of them in front of me was clutching his Johnson and making those faces that we secretly hope no one ever sees us make. They dropped like flies, hips thrusting uncontrollably and large dark stains taking shape around their zippers.

I leaned down near Anya's right ear and growled. 'Anyone who's still standing, take their weapons away and break their arms.'

I pulled back from her taking Dr. Wills with me and we watched the show.

The girl was good. Smooth, fast and quick like you wouldn't believe. Steven Segal on his best day with camera assistance wasn't as smooth or fast. Jean Claude Van Damme was never remotely as flexible. The girl was damn good. I have no idea why she didn't kill me the first time she had the chance. Maybe Dr. Rathbourne was right and I'm just really durable.

In a matter of six or seven minutes there wasn't a standing guard or agent in the place. There were, however, plenty of moans and groans and voices pleading for either God or Mommy.

I looked over at Dr. Wills. "Think this might be a good time to go pay a visit to the Director's office?"

He nodded his agreement. "Anya, grab a rifle and follow us. Guard our backs."

I relieved two agents of their nine millimeter pistols and followed Dr. Wills who led the parade. We were off to see the Wizard and peak behind his curtain.

We avoided the elevators and took the stairs; the Doctor used his access card to get us thru the security doors. It took a little over twenty minutes, but we ended up standing in front of the offices of the Director and his immediate staff.

Dr. Wills walked up to the administrative assistant.

"I'm Dr. Wills, Deputy Director of Internal Security. I'd like to speak with either the DCI or the Deputy Director. Now!" he said forcefully.

The young man looked up at the tall older man then glanced around him to me and Anya, who was sweeping the room behind us with the M-16 she'd acquired.

"Uhmm... the DCI isn't here right now sir, but the Deputy's in his office. One moment please?" he stammered slightly and reached for the phone on his desk top.

"Son, if you're even thinking of calling for security, I'd advise you to squash that thought." Wills said sternly.

The man grimaced slightly and nodded his understanding. He lifted the receiver and punched a button.

"Sir, Dr. Wills would like a word with you right away." He paused, listening. "Yes sir, Internal Security. Very urgent sir. Right away, yes sir." He put the phone down and looked up. "He's on his way out sir."

"Thank you." Dr. Wills said and put his hands behind his back and looked over the top of the man's head, waiting patiently.

The young man looked as if he wished he were anywhere else.

We didn't have to wait long before a man in his late middle years emerged from the back. He was stocky and graying, but his face and stance were those of a younger, physically capable man. He approached us without fear or worry.

"Dr. Wills, I haven't seen you up here in quite some time. What can I do for you?" he said as he extended his hand to the older, taller man.

Dr. Wills shook the man's hand and I felt him link. "Arthur, we have a serious problem on our hands. The Director has been conducting an unauthorized field operation here in the D.C. and Virginia area. A black op."

The Deputy Director eyebrows went up. "Against who and for what reason?"

Dr. Wills turned and gestured at me. "Arthur Davenport, Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, meet Ike Blacktower, my designated successor."

I nodded at the man and linked with him. He was controlled in the same way Anya was. His emotions were stable and low key, curiosity, concern, mild anger and outrage.

He looked at the Doctor again. "You can prove this charge?"