Chapter 121

FRIDAY AFTERNOON, OCTOBER 25

Doctor Boswell hadn't tried to have class after the dress fitting, knowing everyone was too excited to get anything done, even those who weren't getting married. Susan and Kayla were excited, too, but Nat, Nicki and Whitney were beyond that. They couldn't sit still. They wanted to talk to Jeff, to be with him, but he had been at the abandoned ski lodge with the security people and his team all morning. He had called and talked to Diana shortly after the people from the dress shop had left, telling his Queen he was going to stay with security during the afternoon while learning to use the new defense system.

With permission from his wives-to-be, Jeff had invited his team to the weddings, then had gotten on the secure phone and invited the General and his wives as well. While he was at it, he had invited Lieutenant Mayfield and any of the security team who would be off duty. Since there would be two separate weddings, the entire security force would have a chance to attend at least one of the weddings. The weapon installation crew had already returned to the base.

Jeff had spent most of the afternoon taking part in exercises to familiarize security with the new defenses. By the time he had decided that he was reasonably proficient with the new systems, he had long since come to the conclusion that no one, absolutely no one, could ever say the General had skimped on the installation. Matthews' Mountain was now well able to defend itself, and satellite imagery had shown that the defenses were totally invisible to the naked eye.

Jeff's women were sitting at the big kitchen table, laughing, teasing the five who were getting married, and just generally enjoying themselves as they all waited on Jeff's return before finalizing supper. "He's ... Whitney started to say, a puzzled expression momentarily crossing her face, then more strongly as Jeff's wives got up to finish supper. "He's coming. I can feel him."

Nat looked at Nicki. "Can you feel him like Whitney?"

Nicki shook her head, "Unh uh. I can tell where he is, kind of, when he's here in the building, but ... not when he's any farther away than that. Can you?"

"Unh uh."

"You will be able to soon," Diana offered as she hugged Nat, then Nicki. "After you have been around him more, it will come. I suspect that Whitney just managed to pick up the ability a little sooner."

"Does it have something to do with sex? Maybe his pheromones that you told us about?"

"Ummm. I don't think so. Arlene could feel him when she was eight, and he certainly didn't have anything to do with her sexually until well after we came out here. None of us know how it works; it just does, but I think it's a mental thing. He somehow makes a connection with us. You have already started. I imagine it won't be long until you can feel him no matter how far away he is."

A few minutes later, Nat and Nicki also felt Jeff as he walked in the back door of the Retreat. The three girls put down what they were doing and rushed out of the kitchen to meet him in the hallway. Arlene, Ann, Jennie and Melissa just looked at each other and smiled — old married women now. But that relaxed manner quickly changed when Jeff walked into the kitchen. Each took their turn welcoming him with a kiss, then his older wives took their turns.

"Hey," he laughed, "I was only gone for a few hours, not that I'm complaining about my greeting, though," he quickly added.

"Too long, anyway," Diana said as she let him turn her away from him, but still pressed up against him as he took the few steps to his chair and quickly sat down.

He had hoped that Diana's body would conceal the bulge in his pants from Hope, but his wife had moved away a step too soon. He was almost certain Hope had seen, because she had blushed.

As Diana walked away, she looked back over her shoulder long enough to wink at him. Shit, he thought, she moved too soon on purpose. She wanted Hope to see.

Jeff sat down and thought, I wonder why she did that. Seems like she would have wanted to hide my erection from Hope. Di knew I was using her body as a shield, yet she deliberately moved away too soon. It embarrassed Hope. Shit, I do not understand women, and I'm going to have five new wives by Sunday night. Di used to be jealous if I even looked at another woman. She was jealous, off and on, when she first had Arlene seduce me. Well, seduce isn't exactly the right word. But a little later, the jealousy seemed to suddenly stop.

{{{ She is a Queen. The Queen of a Prime. A Prime shows his status by the number and beauty of his wives. She is but doing her job. She should be complimented on her endeavors, however. }}}

Jeff knew that Little One didn't necessarily mean this instant, but he got up and walked over to Diana, waiting until she set the pot of squash down she had in her hand. As she turned to him with a questioning look on her face, he took her in his arms. Activity in the kitchen came to a halt as the women, sensing something, all turned to the couple.

"Thank you, my Queen."

"Uh, for what?" Diana said, smiling up at him.

"For being you. For being my Queen. For all you have done for me over the years. For all my wives. For what is going to happen Saturday and Sunday nights. For everything."

Diana's expression was inscrutable, "Are you saying you like your pussy brigade, hmmm?"

There was a titter of laughter from the women. In his peripheral vision, he could have sworn he saw Hope cover her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. "Di, I meant that as an honest compliment. I wasn't messing with you."

"Nor, I with you," she quietly said as she continued to smile up at him. Putting a hand behind his neck, she pulled him down as she reached up, sealing her mouth to his and tenderly kissing him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Good, and ... I'm first tonight. Now go sit that pretty ass of yours down so we can get supper on the table."

"My ass is not pretty, " he mumbled as he went back to his chair.

Bill, Dave and Frank came in with their women. As they sat to eat, Jeff noticed Diana arranging it so that all five of his wives-to-be were seated together with Susan closest to him and Kayla next. Despite the fact he had nine wives already, he could feel the butterflies start as Susan took his hand and said, "Kayla and I won't be in your big bed tonight, of course, so after supper we won't see you until the wedding. She and I will be together, and you will be the topic of conversation, of course." Her eyes suddenly misted as her voice caught, "I'm so sorry for the way I treated you all those years. I was your mother-in-law; I couldn't be attracted to you. To a large degree, my being a bitch was to cover my feelings for you, I guess. I hope you can forgive me one of these days. I swear to you that I'll be the best wife I can be."

Jeff reached over and capped a hand behind her head, pulling her toward him to kiss her hard for a few seconds. "We've had this conversation before. The past is done and over with. I love you, you say you love me, and I believe that. Tomorrow night you and Kayla will be my wives. We won't speak of that part of our past again. Deal?"

Susan's misty eyes had changed to pouring tears by now. "I'll try ... Deal," she choked out.

Kayla hugged her, then Diana did also and kissed her on the mouth for a second. "Enough of this. This is a happy time."

THE NURSES' HOME, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

Art, now ensconced in a new hospital bed, pressed the button to raise the head as his two pretty nurses came into the room with his dinner. Equipment had been arriving all afternoon until Sandra's bedroom looked much like the hospital room he had just left — only much bigger.

Bobby put the tray on the rolling table and situated it across his bed while Bobby fluffed his pillow, put it behind his back and made a final adjustment to position the bed so he could easily reach his food.

"Thank you, both of you. I would be dead now if it hadn't been for the two of you."

There was a prolonged, and embarrassing silence before Bobby suddenly took the top off his tray. "We haven't eaten yet, but we tasted some of the food, and it's darn good."

Sandra leaned over and kissed Art, putting everything she had into it. While Art was still feeling dazed, Bobby did the same thing. Art pulled his left leg back a little, raising his knee to help hide the tent in the sheet. The women saw, anyway, and smiled. They looked at each other, and with a silent agreement between them, Bobby continued, "We don't work for the hospital any longer, and Agent Grigsby has made it clear that his only concern is your security and whatever it takes to get you well..." She seemed to chop off what she had started to say, but both women blushed, anyway.

After a slight hesitation, "So, get well, Sweetheart," they said in unison, leading Art to suspect that they had practiced it. Then, seemingly embarrassed, they hurried out of the room, leaving Art to wonder about what Bobby had almost said.

The SAC and ASAC were standing on the back porch looking out into the yard as a light rain dripped off the porch roof. The temperature had dropped into the low fifties (Fahrenheit) with the arrival of the rain, and their light suit coats felt good against the slight chill. Whatley sighed, "Stay with this for the next week or so, or longer if you think you need to be here. We've done everything we can to conceal Hanes' location, but don't count on that too strongly. We might have made a mistake using the nurses' house, but we don't have any other viable options right now. There is still a connection to the hospital that digging could uncover. If this outfit tosses around enough money, they could find out where he is. Don't let your guard down..." Whatley quickly waved his hand in a negative gesture, "Hell, I'm not talking about you, specifically. My ass would be dead now if it weren't for you. Just make sure our people here don't become complacent or overconfident. I'll get one of the other ASACs to take over your assignments while you're tied up here.

"I'm going to be up to my ass in brass, probably all the way to the Director, because of that last asshole who brought in nerve gas. This media circus will go on for days, fuck, maybe months, and if the higher echelon finds out Hanes survived, they will want to know where he is. If a politician smells this, he or she will want to know everything, and we might just as well go ahead and tell the news agencies where Hanes is and get it over with. The only way we're going to keep Hanes alive is to tell no one. I talked to the hospital director about keeping his mouth shut, but who knows if he will do that or not. I've already informed our people to expect a lie detector if someone finds out about this location. Unfortunately, that leaves my boss, and his boss."

Whatley thought for a bit as he stared into the rain. "Fuck them. I'm going to do the best I can, and hope they'll keep their mouths shut." Whatley stood thinking for a moment, "I'm going to tell the news people that Hanes' family wants a family only funeral, but there's going to have to be a funeral somewhere. Now all I have to do is find a body."

"Street person," Grigsby suggested.

"Yes. Someone destined to be buried by the state, county or some city. Someone who otherwise would have wound up in a pauper's grave. There's always at least one of those in most any morgue."

"We shouldn't get the body from the Atlanta area," Grigsby offered. "I could..."

"No ... you handle the problems here. I'll put someone else on the body and funeral. If I get caught withholding information from my boss, there's always retirement," he said with a macabre grin. Whatley looked at his watch. "Shit, I've already put off that news conference twice. I can't do it again. I've gotta run and blow a little smoke up the media's ass. No telling how many video conferences with the brass I'll have in the next few days. Somebody will have to have a meeting to discuss strategy or something — anything to keep me from getting my job done." Sighing, he finished with, "I guess that's what I have ASACs for."

As Whatley started to step off the porch, Grigsby stopped him. "How about getting someone to assign another weapon to Hanes, and have it delivered, please. I want my gun back."

"I can relate to that," Whatley said. "I'll get someone on it as soon as I get to headquarters." He stopped again. "How soon do you think it will be before Hanes can work with an artist?"

"I've already checked with the nurses on that. How about tomorrow afternoon? But, be aware, Bobby says an hour will be all Hanes can stand at this point. To understate, he's had a rough day."

"Yeah, he darned sure has, and so have the rest of us, but we're still alive, and I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep it that way."

With that, Whatley stepped down off the low porch and trotted through the rain to his vehicle.

I suspect the rest of us feel the same way, Grigsby thought as he turned to go back inside. Now, I just need to make sure we do stay alive.

As the SAC left by the back alley, his mind gnawed at another problem he had not mentioned to Grigsby. I'm beginning to suspect I have a leak somewhere. Twice now, I've been almost certain Mitchell (Whatley's boss) knew things about my command almost before I did. Far too many of my people know about Hanes survival and current location. If the guy weren't so fucked up, I could get him someplace well away from here. But dammit, someone has to know. I'm paranoid. Hell, the only people I fully trust right now are Grigsby and those two nurses.

That surgeon said he put a large number of stitches inside Hanes' kidney. I worried on the drive over that he would start hemorrhaging internally, but the nurses say his drains look good despite all the jostling he received. I'm beginning to get that bad feeling again, though. Shit!

NEAR WINTER PARK, COLORADO

Fred, tired, was maneuvering the big RV along Hwy 40 at Berthford Pass, a few miles outside Winter Park. The road had been plowed out, but at more than eleven thousand feet, a thin snowpack persisted from a recent snow that the plow hadn't quite removed. The sheen of white reflecting back from the snow under the headlights stressed his tired eyes. Odd how the last few miles seem the hardest, he thought as he eased around another hairpin turn and geared down to save the RV's brakes when he started their descent down the mountain. The women had all flatly refused to drive once they had left the Interstate and began to climb. I know damn well that Carla could do this, and probably Jessica, too. Hell, they've probably driven an eighteen wheeler on roads like this taking cattle, or horses to sales, or some other farm product to market. Maybe they see it as an honor to take our rig home, and they're giving that honor to me. I know I'll be happy to get back. Home. I haven't lived here long, but it does feel like home — more so now that I have Brenda with me again — well, physically with me again. She and I need some time alone. Maybe we could walk out in that pasture, find a good place, get on our knees and thank God for bringing her back to me.