Chapter 21: The Compact

Wendy woke up first. "Cole, wake up. Cole, are you awake yet?" She shook his shoulder and grabbed his penis under the covers. "Cole, you got a very lovely woodie!" She gave it a gentle squeeze

Cole shuddered and snapped his eyes open. "Oh man, Wendy, stop that. I got to take a leak. Stop before I go right here in the bed."

He rolled over away from her and shoved himself into a sitting position. He was secretly proud of the way his body grew a little stronger every day. Cole grinned as he felt the muscles in his legs, so long unresponsive, begin to grow some mass. Not much, yet, but it was a start.

Cole grabbed his crutches and began to stand erect, unsteady at first, then, as he grew more awake, he used his crutches to work his way into a full standing position. He to move toward their private bathroom. "Oh yeah," he whispered to himself. "I'll be running races by this time next year." Even confined to crutches, he appreciated that he was far better off than ever in his life.

Wendy had rolled over and watched her first and only love move across the floor with care. "Oh Cole," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears of thankfulness that they, two misfits, had found each other. "Some day, some day we won't need even crutches to walk like real people." The hazy picture in her mind was of a young man and a young woman walking hand in hand, straight and strong. "Some day..."

In their bedroom, a naked, Mark reached over and grabbed equally naked Rachel's right breast. He flicked her nipple with his forefinger. "You awake yet, Babe?"

"Damn you, Mark Hunter. Of course, I'm not awake. People mauling my boobs always puts me deeper asleep." Her voice sounded as if she might be just a little peeved.

"Oh I love it when you talk dirty to me." His voice sounded as if he was about to break out in laughter. "Roll over here; I want to kiss you."

She rolled over and Mark placed his lips close to hers. "Ewww!" Rachel exclaimed. "Your breath would rot wallpaper."

"Oh, sorry. Let's get up and shower, since you're already awake."

"Mark Hunter, I hate you!" Rachel yelled and started to laugh. "Help me up."

Mark stood and held out his right hand. She took it and helped him help her stand. "Babe, I'm really getting better. My muscles have begun to come back a little. I'll never have what I had before, but I'll at least be able to run and swim again."

"Honey, you may never be able to compete again, but I don't mind. You are no longer the arrogant, self-centered jerk you were when we first met. I don't know what I ever saw in you."

Dead pan, he told her, "I was handsome, built better than Arnold, and had a mind that was absolutely brilliant. Oh yes, and I could almost lick my eyebrows."

"Oh yes, my love, and you were also the most short tempered arrogant prick in the state of California. She hugged her naked body tight against his and added, "Let's both shower right now. We stink."

Mark goosed her and said, "At least I have good taste in good tasting women." She jumped forward when he goosed her and hurried into the bathroom to start the shower.

Mark slipped up behind Rachel and hugged her close to him. He began to probe her backside with his erection. Rachel bent over and held onto the handrail that ran along that side of the shower stall. Mark took hold of his penis with one hand and adjusted his aim. He eased himself slowly inside her. "Oh Rachel, I love you," he told her and began to work himself in and out.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she felt her first orgasm build up and release. In a minute her second one started and Mark yelled, "I'm coming!"

"Let's get cleaned up and out of here," Rachel said in a low voice. "I was afraid one of our protectors would break in to find out what was wrong."

Rachel dried Mark off, as soon as they left the shower. He began to dress himself while she dried off. Together, they left their room and walked out to greet grinning faces. Claire chuckled and shook her head. Sam laughed at Rachel's blush and Mark's "Fuck you."

"Did you strain your voice?" Cole asked him.

"Cole, shut up," Wendy told him.

A knock at the door brought all laughter to a halt. Two members of the security team eased over to the door, one on each side. Sam looked through the peep hole and opened the door a crack. "Let's see some ID," he said. A card was slipped through the crack in the door. Sam stood back.

As Sam opened the door, a man in a black suit entered. "My name is John Corcoran. I'm here to escort Mister and Missus Hunter to the airport. We have a plane waiting to take you to see a group of people who wish to confer with you." His pompous attitude inferred he couldn't imagine what anyone in Washington would wish to talk to people like these.

"How large is the plane?" Rachel asked. "Is there room for all of us?"

"Madam, there is adequate room for you and Mister Hunter," the newcomer, John Corcoran answered.

"Sorry, John. If my family can't go with us, then we are staying here. Also my head of Security and six bodyguards shall always accompany us anywhere we go." Mark developed an instant dislike for this self-important bureaucrat. "Oh yes, and my mother. I never go anywhere without my mommy"

"This won't do at all. You and your wife are all I've been ordered to bring back with me." He looked at Mark, then Rachel with what was supposed to be an intimidating stare.

"Where my wife and I go so goes our security." Mark's irritation began to become full blown anger.

"This won't do. This won't do at all. I'm armed and perfectly capable of..."

"Getting us killed," Rachel interrupted.

Sam interrupted. "Who sent you here to get us?"

"I'm in charge of this detail. I decided to bring you in by myself."

"John Boy, is your daddy State Senator Corcoran, Super Republican, from Bush country in Texas?" Sam snarled, when John Corcoran nodded yes.

"We only travel with Democrats," Rachel told him, "Sorry."

"Sam," Mark told him, "Do you have anyone's card from that shootout yesterday?"

"No, sorry," Sam answered. His eyes never left Corcoran's face.

"When a state Senator from Texas, who is in tight with the oil companies, sends his son to run an errand, I have a hunch that plane would have been diverted to Houston, or some other place far from DC.

Just then, someone else knocked on the door. Sam shoved John Houston's body aside and nodded for one of the uniformed guards to answer the door. Mark stood in front of Rachel and Cole tried to guard Wendy with his body.

When the door opened, a man wearing a blue jacked with "FBI" in gold on the right breast held up an ID card and said, "John Clark, special agent assigned to the San Diego office. There will be a team of US Marshals here in minutes to escort you to Washington, DC. This is as per a prior arrangement, I understand."

"There aren't any side trips to Texas planned, are there?" Mark asked.

"What?" John Clark asked.

Then he saw John Corcoran, for the first time. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"My father authorized..."

Special Agent Clark interrupted, "Your father has no authority to authorize anything, especially in another state other than his own. You're under arrest."

Sam smiled and said, "We'll all be ready to go as soon as the marshals get here."

An hour later Mark's family and their security team were loaded into a twelve-passenger Lear Jet and en route to Washington, DC. The jet bore the logo of a large New York Pharmaceutical company. "Corporate patriotism at its best," Mark told Rachel in a low voice.

"Honey, do you think we're safe?" Rachel asked in a worried voice.

Mark laughed and told her, "Yeah, Cole had cracked into the White House appointments log and left them a reminder."

Rachel moaned, "Oh god, what did he do this time?"

"It wasn't any big deal. He left a note that we were expected back in California in time to defuse his press release. I don't believe the press secretary wants to run with the news item Cole left to be inserted the president's press conference prompts."

"Damn it, Mark, what did he do?" Rachel's patience had worn thin.

Mark laughed, In two short paragraphs, he informed them that he had a copy of the president's agreement to give Consuela Mendoza amnesty for any past crimes if they became public."

"That Mendoza bunch seems to be well connected, for a bunch of drug dealers."

"Well, when you have rooms full of hundred dollar bills and precious metals, a lot of people love you. They estimate the Mendoza Family has a net worth of close to ten billion dollars, counting land, bank accounts and stored assets. That buys a lot of love. Now that old Carlos is dead, that whole bunch will probably kill each other off in the coming power struggles."

"Please fasten your seat belts. We shall land in ten minutes," a pleasant stewardess told them.

The pilot landed the plane and sat in his seat until everyone else had deplaned. He picked up a plain looking i-phone and said, "The recordings we made of their conversations are useless. The security team talked about sex and fishing. The two young people jabbered nonstop about computers and the Hunters said nothing new of interest."

"Understood," answered the Secret Service agent who answered the phone. "We were hoping for something. Send them along and let the boss listen to them." The pilot disconnected and left the plane.

The White House limousine took everyone directly to the Hayes Hotel. They were escorted up to their large suite of rooms and asked to wait. No mention was made of checking in. Mark sat in front of the large television screen and watched the news. The newscasters extolled the bravery of a puppy that woke the family after a fire had broken out in their home and another bit about the buzz of the pimple on Christina's backside.

"I'm hungry," Cole announced, "Let's eat."

"Mom, will you call down and make a reservation for the bunch of us?" Mark said. "They probably have private dining rooms."

"Oh, the things a mother does for her child," Claire told the room with great drama. Inside, she was thankful that she and Mark had at last begun to enjoy a relationship that anger and circumstances had denied them for so long.

A few minutes later they were seated in a small meeting room cum dining room was barely large enough to seat them comfortably. The service was acceptable and the food mediocre at best. "Perhaps the government gets a discount," Rachel voiced the other's thoughts.

"Honey, get us out of that suite and into something better. I'd rather pay our own way, in any event. Try for two interconnecting suites so we'll have enough room to breathe."

It took Rachel two hard hours of argument to move them into larger, more acceptable quarters. "I believe the old digs are bugged to the hilt." Mark made this observation and waved for Sam to follow him outside the new suite into the hallway that led to the elevator.

"My friend, I do believe that we are in the midst of a game that we don't even know its name nor any of the rules. What do you think?"

My sentiments exactly, Boss." Sam stopped and turned to face Mark. "What do they want?"

"I have a hunch my Naked City is tied in somehow to the whole thing." Mark caught the look of disbelief, on Sam's face and added, "You've heard us talk about the Stirling Engine. If they've improved the efficiency of that heat driven engine, even a few percent, we could furnish one hell of a lot of power to a power starved world."

Sam looked at him and asked, "So?"

"The northeast quarter of my property up there contains hot springs and blow holes of super heated steam. That Japanese outfit headquartered in Alpine may be part of the answer." Mark turned around and headed back to their two suites. "We're going home."

"Say what?" Dam felt he was being left at the starting line in a race he didn't want to run.

"I just figured it all out, or mostly." Mark's expression turned grim. "If the bastards had come to me and openly negotiated with Rachel and me, I'd have probably made a deal everyone could live with. Those Arabs, Consuela Mendoza, even the smoke and mirrors with Hunter and the bank were all part of a scam to steal The Willows from me."

Mark slammed the door open and yelled, "Rachel, charter a plane. We're going home. Cole, you've been bragging that you have all those bytes of information on the president. Put everything out on the Internet. Let the bastards stew in their own juices."

"Huh?" a mystified Cole tried to ask. Mark frowned and shook his head.

"How big a plane should I order?" Rachel asked.

"If you have any trouble getting a plane, we'll buy a couple of large motor homes and drive back. I hope the next president is more sympathetic. That will be the Speaker of the House, right?" The demonic gleam in Mark's eyes scared Rachel.