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Message-ID: <48161asstr$1086696604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
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Subject: {ASSM} Princes of Mannsborough, Chapter 19
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Date: Tue,  8 Jun 2004 08:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Princes of Mannsborough, Part 19
by Vulgar Argot
(tags moved to bottom for spoilerage)

Thule woke at six thirty, half an hour before his alarm would have
gone off. As he tried to detach himself gracefully from Dawn, whose
head was laid across his chest, she looked up sleepily, "Is it
morning?"

"More or less," Thule said. "I need to get some things done before I
head into the city."

Dawn stretched, "Want me to make breakfast?"

"It's early yet," said Thule. "Go back to sleep."

Dawn got up on hands and knees, shaking sleep out of her head, "No.
It's all right. I need to get moving too. If Marigold can't get a car
today, could you drop me off in town, please? I managed to get most of
my doctor's appointments made."

"Sure," said Thule, standing up, "what were you thinking of making?"

Dawn sat up, "We saw some pancake mix in the cabinet while we were
making dinner last night."

"Good enough," said Thule, "I'm going to jump in the shower. The one
in your bedroom should be working fine. I think I've kept the bathroom
pretty clean. But, if not, the one off of my father's room should be
fine."

Dawn laughed, "Afraid I'm going to follow you into your shower?"

"Yes," admitted Thule, "and I don't have time for that sort of thing
this morning."

Dawn pouted. Thule added, "Besides, then I would probably miss out on
breakfast. And those pancakes sound really good." At Dawn's look of
outrage, he added, "And uncomplicated. Some nice, uncomplicated
pancakes sound really good today."

Dawn stuck out her tongue, "Just for that, I'm putting bananas in them
and sprinkling them with powdered sugar."

Thule chuckled on his way into the bathroom, "Contentious creature."

"You'd better just hope I don't find any blueberries," called Dawn.

In the shower, Thule took a few minutes just to relax. The hot water
washed away aches that he couldn't remember the origin of. But, he
really didn't have much time for such indulgences today. He forced
himself to focus. As he was drying off, Dawn called, "Hurry up or
they'll get cold."

Thule threw on his dress pants and went out. Dawn looked up, "I didn't
mean you had to come to breakfast naked."

Thule said, "I have pants on. I don't like to wear my dress shirts to
breakfast. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can throw on a t-shirt."

"No," said Dawn, "it's just startling. That's all. I hope you don't
expect me to follow that particular dress code."

"Fine," said Thule, "ruin my fantasy of being catered to my beautiful,
topless serving girls."

Dawn put his plate down in front of him. Then, she reached up to the
top button of her pajama top, holding it with both hands and watching
him through sleep-lidded eyes. Thule watched her, knowing that Dawn
loved to push his buttons, knowing he would back off. He wondered how
far she would push if he didn't. Emphatically, he sat back, watching
her, and crossed his arms.

Realizing he wasn't going to stop her, Dawn blushed fiercely. Then,
with shaking fingers, she undid the next button. Thule inclined his
head to her in recognition. Dawn let her fingers glide down to the
next button, but only hovered there for a half second before she
dropped her hands.

"Is that a good enough start?" asked Dawn.

Thule chuckled, "Eat your breakfast."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then, Dawn asked quietly, "You
would have let me do it, wouldn't you?"

"I hadn't entirely decided," admitted Thule. "I wanted to see how far
you would push it if I let you. But, I might have cracked before you
did."

Dawn pouted, "You're so mean."

Thule laughed, "And you are a relentless flirt. You love to watch me
squirm. I thought I would let you squirm for a change."

After breakfast, Thule went into his bedroom to start copying the most
recent files he'd collected onto a new DVD. While the burner was
running, he switched over to another machine to print out
photo-quality copies of a half-dozen images chosen for their impact.
He didn't know how much time he would have to make his case. As they
queued up to print, he brought up the June Kane video. If he only had
one brief chance to show someone a picture, he knew the one he needed.
Fast forwarding as much as he could, he turned the sound all of the
way down and tried to find the spot. After overshooting or
undershooting it a half dozen times, he reluctantly turned the sound
up, rewound a bit, closed his eyes and listened for the dull thud.
He'd slowed the playback to one quarter speed. When the thud came, it
was deeper and more drawn out than it had actually been. Thule hit a
key without opening his eyes to pause the playback. Bracing himself,
he opened his eyes and started advancing, then reversing the playback
until he was flicking through less than a dozen frames, a half-second
of time, back and forth.

So intent was he that he hadn't heard Dawn walk in the room and didn't
know she was there until she said, "She's dead, isn't she?"

"I think so," said Thule, "At the very least, her neck is broken."
Looking not at Dawn, but at the screen, he said dully, "The human neck
doesn't bend like that unless it's broken. And, fourteen frames after
this, it bounces off her chest and you can see...well, you can see."

Dawn rested her chin on Thule's shoulder to get a closer look. He'd
frozen it a few frames after June's head had connected with the bench.
Her chin was pressed into the hollow of her own throat, the back of
her neck an extended, discontinuous line against the bench.

Reaching for the mouse, he hit the print button. The photo printer
whined back into life.

Dawn squinted, "Why the hell is Randy smiling?"

Thule sighed and cycled back a few seconds to where June was being
handed off to Randy. Then, he played it back, frame by frame, as she
wavered and began to fall. Finding the frame he wanted, he asked,
"What do you see here?"

"Randy trying to catch June," said Dawn.

"Look at his right hand," said Thule.

Dawn looked, "What the hell is he doing?"

Thule said, "If he wanted, he could curl his fingers around her
shoulder right here and get a grip on her. Before he was a running
back, he'd been a defensive tackle. Getting purchase like that should
be second nature. But, he's pulling his fingers back and the give in
her skin says that he's pressing the heel of his hand into her, just
below the collarbone."

Dawn looked, "I see it, but why is he doing that?"

Thule rose, facing the bed, "Come here and stand up straight, facing
me." When Dawn did, he said, "Rock back on your heels." Dawn rocked
back and forth a little. As she rocked back, Thule extended an arm as
if he were going to catch her then hit her, just below the collarbone.
Her knees went backwards, her arms swung to catch her balance, and she
toppled over, flat on her back on the bed.

Thule said quietly, "Randy is smiling because he didn't drop June
Kane. He pushed her. And, I don't think it's the first time he's done
it."

                               -=-

After Thule had gathered up everything he needed and gotten dressed,
he said to Dawn, "I'm sorry I had to demonstrate that on you. I wasn't
sure I believed it myself until I saw you fall over."

"It's all right, Thule," said Dawn quietly. "I'm glad I could help."

Thule gave her a one-armed hug, his laptop bag over his other
shoulder. Dawn nuzzled into his chest, arms wrapped around him. When
she looked up, she said, "I would have done it, you know?"

Thule looked puzzled, "Done what?"

"I would have undone all the buttons," she said. "Thule, I'd do
anything you wanted me to."

Thule's body gave a little shiver of anticipation at the words even
before his brain had fully processed them. Releasing her and stepping
back, he said, "Dawn, you don't owe me that."

Dawn's jaw took a stubborn cast, "Come on, Thule. If anyone owes
anyone that, I owe it to you. That could have been me you were
watching get murdered in there. You..."

Thule's look made her words trail off. He said, "Even so, as long as
you approach it in those terms, nothing is ever going to happen. I
won't have you on those terms. I've already done enough things that
skirt the edge of my own morality to keep me in therapy for a very
long time once this is all done."

Dawn braced herself and said, "Thule, if it's just because you don't
want me..."

Thule crossed the space between them before she could say another
word. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. Dawn had
only time for a brief squeal before he was kissing her, not gently,
but intensely, bruising her lips with his own, pushing her back until
she was pinned against the wall next to the front door. He caught her
wrists, one in each hand, then pinned them together over her head. His
now free hand went down to her belly, avoiding her fresh navel
piercing, but running under her shirt, grasping her breast through her
bra. He held her there for less than a minute while she undulated
against him, foot coming up the back of his leg. Then, he pulled away,
releasing her wrists, which she drew down warily.

"Desire," he said emphatically, "is not a problem. I meant what I
said. If I don't have you, I'll always regret that I didn't do it when
I had the chance. But, I'd rather have done it then than to have you
do it because you feel like you owe it to me."

Dawn nodded weakly, eyes about as wide as they could go, breathing
shallow.

"Go get your stuff," Thule said. "I don't want to leave you here alone
today. You can call Marigold on the way to tell me if I'm leaving you
there or in town."

Dawn walked warily to her room, not taking her eyes off of Thule. He
had to resist the urge to shout, "Boo!" Chuckling, he went outside to
put his laptop case in the car.

Not watching where he was going, Thule almost walked headfirst into
Jake before he noticed him. Taking a step back, he reached for the
pistol before remembering he didn't have it because he had no carry
permit for the city. At the same time, Jake cross drew his own pistol,
pointing it menacingly at Thule from waist level. He held it like he
knew how to use it.

Thule kept his face cautiously neutral, "I thought you weren't
muscle."

"I'm not," said Jake, his own face unreadable. "But, I'm also not
stupid. You drew on me the last time I was here. I wasn't coming
unarmed again."

Thule raised his hands in front of him, "I'm not armed this time."

"Turn around," said Jake. Thule did. With easy proficiency, Jake
patted him down, pulling out his shirt tails and not shying away from
the areas where Thule would have put a hold-out weapon.

"All right," Jake said, holstering his own gun, "You can turn back
around."

"Are you sure you're not muscle?" Thule asked, turning around, "You
seem like you would be good at it."

Jake scowled, "I've been offered the job. I don't want it."

"So," asked Thule, "what do you want?"

Jake's scowl deepened, "Fucking boss wanted me to remind you to come
see him tonight and give you this." He handed Thule a guest pass to
the Mannsborough Gun club, "That's where he'll be at six o'clock
tonight. If you're not there at six o'clock, he's going to send me out
to find you."

Jake took a cigarette out and lit it, "If you're not going to be there
at six o'clock, I want you to tell me now so I have enough time to
pack up my wife and kid and as much stuff as we can fit in our car so
that, when Ivan tells me to find you, they'll be long gone and I can
get my ass out of this town. I told him and I'm telling you, I don't
do the rough stuff."

Thule considered the question. He didn't know what would happen today
in New York and he sure as hell didn't like the idea of meeting Ivan
Vandevoort at a gun club. But, Jake had reached out to him and Thule
didn't want to hang the guy out to dry.

Behind Jake, there was a click and Dawn's voice said, wavering, "Drop
it, Brute Squad. Don't fucking make me shoot you."

Jake sighed and raised his hands over his head. Thule reached over and
pulled the gun out of Jake's holster.

"It's okay, Dawn," Thule said calmly.

"I saw him pull a gun on you," shouted Dawn.

"It was a misunderstanding," said Thule, "I've got his gun now. He's
not going to hurt me."

Dawn poked Jake in the back with the gun, "Please tell me you're not
going to hurt him, Jake."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," said Jake, keeping his hands on top of
his head. "I just didn't want him shooting me."

Dawn backed off a few steps. Thule reached out for the gun she held.
She handed it to him, then crumbled into his arms, hugging him and
kissing him on the mouth. Jake took his hands down, giving Thule a
venomous look over Dawn's shoulder.

Thule pushed her away, gently, "That was very brave, Dawn. Thank you."

Dawn turned to Jake and started pounding on his chest with her fists,
"What the hell are you pulling a gun on Thule for?"

Jake raised his hands to protect his face, "Hey. He started it."

Dawn stopped hitting Jake, but glared at him, "You probably deserved
it. I told you you shouldn't be working for Ivan Vandevoort."

Jake looked apologetic, "I know, Wildcat. I'm trying to get out of it,
but it's not so simple."

Thule turned to Dawn, "Hon, would you go sit in the car for a minute,
please? I really need to talk to Jake privately."

Dawn nodded, "Okay, Thule."

After she was in the car, Jake said, "That didn't take long. Does your
girlfriend know?"

"You know," said Thule, annoyed, "one of these days I swear I am going
to shoot you just to remind you that I'm holding a gun."

Jake took a drag from his cigarette, "Really? I didn't take you for
the type."

Thule sighed, popping the clip out of Jake's gun, unloading it,
sliding the bullets out, and reseating the clip. He did it swiftly,
without looking down at the gun or letting go of his own. Then, he put
Jake's gun back in its holster and dropped the bullets in the older
man's hand.

"To answer your question," said Thule, "my girlfriend does know. It
was her idea. And, it's none of your damned business. As for the other
matter, I'll see Ivan Vandevoort at six p.m. If I can't be there, I'll
call him. If I can't call him, I suspect he'll know why."

Jake nodded, "Thanks. That's what I wanted to know." He half turned
towards his car.

"Do you have a light?" Thule asked as he drew out a cigarette for
himself. Jake fumbled for his lighter. While he did, Thule took a
moment to think. He'd already trusted too damned many people on this,
telling them too much. He felt like he could trust Jake not to betray
him, but he'd felt that about a lot of people and, eventually, he was
going to be wrong.

He asked, "How old is your kid?"

Jake smiled, "He just turned five."

Thule asked, "He in school yet?"

"Nah," said Jake, "The wife wants to try her hand at homeschooling
anyway."

Thule took a deep drag as Jake lit his cigarette. Then, he said, "You
might want to suggest they take a vacation for a week or two. If you
can, you might want to go with them. If your hands are dirty, you
might want to wash them, today if you can."

Both men stood there smoking. When Jake had finished his cigarette, he
ground it out carefully before speaking.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Then, "is there anything I can do to help?"

Thule flicked his cigarette away, "Not today. Get your family out of
here. Get your hands clean. Give me your cell number. If I need you,
and I might, I'll call you."

Jake nodded. Reaching into his wallet, he drew out a card. By way of
explanation, he said, "I hate what he did to Svetlana. I hate that
he's trying to weasel out of his prenup now. After I talked to you
last time, I opened my eyes to a lot of things I really didn't want to
see."

Thule nodded, "I'll call you if I need you. I'll try not to need you.
With any luck, everything will go smoothly from here on out." He shook
hands with Jake and they parted ways.

In the car, Dawn was rocking back and forth in excitement.

"What?" asked Thule.

"Marigold says she has a good secret to tell us when we get there,"
said Dawn.

Thule rubbed his temples and grunted. He didn't need any more secrets.

"Thule," Dawn asked, more seriously, "did I do all right back there?"

"Yeah," said Thule. "He wasn't going to hurt me, but if he was, you
might have saved my life."

"Okay," said Dawn, "one more time and we're even."

Thule sighed. He hoped she wouldn't have the opportunity.

                              -=-

As Thule and Dawn walked up the path, Marigold came bouncing up it.
Soon, both girls were shrieking and giggling and hugging each other.
Thule let a suspicion that has he'd suppressed earlier bubble to the
surface. He was sure that, any second, Marigold was going to announce
that she was pregnant. And, he was starting to sweat.

"So," he asked as casually as he could, "What's the good news."

"Omigoditssocool," said Marigold, "IaskedJonasif..."

"Whoa," said Thule, holding up his hands, "slow down."

Marigold took a deep breath, then panting, said in a rush, "I asked
Jonas if I could have one of the cars today to help Dawn get to her
doctors and he said it was about time I had a car of my own. So, he's
taking the morning off to go with me to buy one. And he set it up so
that I could start taking professional driving lessons this
afternoon."

Thule was so relieved that he could only manage a weak, "That's
great." Marigold looked at him querulously.

"Sorry," he said, "I was afraid it was something else."

Both girls seemed to realize what he was talking about at the same
moment. They looked at each other and started giggling"

Marigold reached up, petting his cheek, then went up on tiptoe to kiss
him, "Oh, Thule, sweetie. I would love to one day, but that would not
be good news, at least not until after we're finished with school.
Besides, I told you I'm on the pill."

"I know," said Thule, "It's just my natural fatalism trying to drive
me insane."

"Oh," said Marigold, "Jonas wanted to talk to you."

"Please tell me that my mentioning my natural fatalism didn't just
remind you of that."

Marigold chuckled, "It'll be fine. He just wants to catch up."

Thule was not entirely reassured, but Jonas seemed relaxed enough when
he walked into the older man's home office.

"Since when do you play golf?" Thule asked.

Jonas looked up from his putt, "I've played for years. As much of a
cliche as it is, I consider it an essential skill in every executive's
portfolio. I just haven't played very much. Now that Marigold's headed
off to college, I'm thinking of playing more."

"My dad plays," said Thule, "He's played in places I wouldn't even
think would have a golf course, like Bahrain. One of these days, I
should learn the game."

"I never really had time for Marigold and golf," said Jonas. "Of
course, you're a younger man than I was when I got involved in her
life, so you might have more stamina."

Thule thought he understood part of the statement. Jonas was telling
him that he considered Marigold his responsibility once they were in
Boston. But, the bit about Marigold and golf, was he saying he knew
about Dawn? Or, was Thule just slipping over the edge from healthy to
unhealthy paranoia now?

Not knowing what was being said, Thule decided to play dumb, "With MIT
starting next year, I don't imagine I'll have much time to play. Plus,
I'll have to find a job at some point if I'm going to make it through
four years. So, I suspect that it will be a long time before I get a
chance."

Now, Thule wondered if he were playing dumb or trying to answer
Jonas's oblique question with an equally oblique answer. Sometimes, he
was too subtle to even follow his own trains of thought entirely.

"Do you have any plans for the summer?" Jonas asked.

Thule decided to give up on subtext. If Jonas wanted to get at some
information, he was going to have to come out and ask for it.
Otherwise, Thule was liable to get a migraine from the whole thing.

"Truthfully," he said, "I haven't thought much about it. I've been so
focused on finishing out this year and getting to MIT that the whole
June to September thing has been sort of a low priority. I know they
want me to do more hours at the lab, finish up as much as I can before
I leave."

Jonas took another putt, "I know there were some obstacles to us
working together in the past. I don't know if those are still extant,
but Mac speaks very highly of you."

Thule shrugged. As much as he wanted to answer straight, the question
of obstacles was too troubling to ignore, "I'm willing to listen to
any offer you might want to make."

"Good," said Jonas, "I'll talk with Mac about it." He made another
putt. Without looking up, he added, "I noticed Marigold had three
fresh holes in her body yesterday. I was only expecting two."

Thule laughed, "Not my idea. The best I could do was keep her from
piercing all the other places she wanted to."

Jonas sighed, "Where did she want to pierce?"

"Places you probably don't even want to know she has, sir."

Jonas shook his head, "You're a very bad influence on my daughter, Mr.
Roemer." When Thule started to protest, he raised a hand, "Thule,
please allow me this one, small illusion, for the sake of my sanity."

"Yes, sir," said Thule.

"How's your project going?" Jonas asked.

"It's coming to a head," said Thule. Then, deciding that Jonas must be
afraid of listening devices, he added, "I'm going into the city today
to trigger the deployment phase."

Jonas nodded, "So, I understand that Ivan Vandevoort is pretty unhappy
with you."

Thule's blood froze, but he decided to make a go of it, "Not as
unhappy as I suspect he's going to be."

"This matter that Ivan is so unhappy with you about," said Jonas,
"Have you kept my stepdaughter appraised of it?"

Thule suddenly realized that Jonas's hands were gripping his putter so
hard that the knuckles were turning white. Carefully and with an eye
towards the door, Thule said, "Yes, sir. I have."

Jonas let out a deep sigh that caused his putt to go wide and roll
under his desk, "I assumed as much. You wouldn't be inclined to put my
mind to rest on that matter, would you?"

"No, sir," said Thule.

"Again, I suspected you were going to say that." He bent down to
retrieve the ball, "Marigold has some very unusual ideas. I wish I
could believe that they originated with you, but they don't seem to be
thought through well enough for that to be very probable. A long time
ago, I told Marigold that she could talk to me about anything that was
going on in her life. If I had known at the time what she would end up
telling me, I would have kept my damned mouth shut."

"I understand you're buying her a car," said Thule.

Jonas nodded, "I was thinking back to all of the mischief that I
imagined she could get into if she had a car. Now, I find that my
imagination was sorely lacking." He shrugged, "She'll need a car in
Boston. I figured she should have a chance to learn how to drive
better in familiar settings first. Do you disapprove?"

"Not at all," said Thule, "Does she have any experience driving at
all?"

"A little bit," said Jonas, "I haven't had the time I wanted to teach
her and her mother doesn't drive at all. But, I'm getting her lessons
now. I'm getting really good at this whole delegation of parental
responsibility thing."

Thule smiled ruefully, "You've done a hell of a job with her so far,
sir."

Jonas looked at him, startled, "You know, only a cynical bastard like
you could deliver that line in such a way as to make me believe you
meant it."

                                  -=-

Uncharacteristically, Thule decided to leave the radio off on the way
to New York. Normally, he would have taken the opportunity to listen
to the news and see if anything pertinent to the Vandevoorts was
happening. But, he was tired of hearing about the Vandevoorts. He'd
finally gotten enough sleep, but he was still dead tired. No amount of
sleep would ever take the kind of tired he felt right now away.
Handing his evidence off to the FBI would get rid of some of it. In
spite of that, the idea that he might be able to give up this
obsession soon and just be normal left him feeling scared and empty.
He'd been a normal high school student for less than four months. At
the time, he'd been below the radar, a nobody. Until a few weeks ago,
he'd thought that was what he wanted.

The fantasy still held some appeal. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to
spend the next four years as a high tech ascetic, locked away in the
hallowed halls of MIT. It certainly had to be an improvement on the
revenge business. People rarely shot at electrical engineers. Of
course, girls like Marigold rarely slept with electrical engineers,
either. She's fallen hard for him because she thought he was a bad
boy. He'd been doing the bad boy routine for so long that he sometimes
forgot that it was an act. Marigold was already becoming wilder than
he knew what to do with. How much longer would she stick around once
she realized that he would rather be home reading than running himself
ragged weaving an unstable web of lies that he could barely keep up
with.

As well as he could, Thule put those concerns aside. He had to finish
this. He could worry about the rest of his life later. Parking a
little way south of City Hall, he walked the half dozen blocks to
Federal Plaza.

As he got near his goal, Thule stopped at one of the ubiquitous
wheeled stands to buy a cup of coffee and a buttered bagel. Taking up
a vantage point on a bench that faced the monolithically ugly 26
Federal Plaza, he sipped his coffee and checked his cell phone. It
read "8:42."

In the crush of morning commuters, no one paid him any mind. There
were over one hundred federal agencies at number 26 and a thousand
legitimate reasons for a young man in dress pants, shirt and tie to be
sitting outside, sipping coffee and eating a bagel.

Thule was steeling himself to go inside. There was a weak point to his
plan here and he still hadn't found a way to avoid it. It was common
wisdom that the FBI was untouchable and incorruptible. Thule had no
faith in common wisdom. The Vandevoorts seemed to have friends
everywhere else. While he didn't know of any friends of theirs in the
Bureau, it seemed foolharty to presume that they didn't have any.
Thule was about to tip his hand and pray that the person he tipped it
to didn't go running to Ivan with it.

He still had yet to come up with a better plan than walking in the
front door and giving what he had to the first agent that would listen
to him. He debated driving down to Washington DC to go to national
headquarters, but he would have to fly back if he were going to make
his appointment with Ivan. Or, he could do the same thing with Boston.
But, he had no guarantee that either office would be less likely to
have a Vandevoort ally in it.

While he was considering this, the solution walked right past him.
Thule recognized her face, but her hair was different today and she
was wearing more. Unfortunately, the realization of how he knew her
didn't come until she was long gone.

Thule wondered if dumb luck really went so far. Maybe she was just
some functionary from the Small Business Administration or Census who
occasionally liked to cut loose. But, no. Thule was reasonably sure
his momentary glance to confirm identity had taken in an FBI identity
badge clipped to her smart, gray suit. He hoped he wasn't remembering
something that hadn't been there out of desperation. He wished he'd
looked closely enough to see a name on the badge. He doubted the one
that he knew was real.

Thule suspected there was an internal cafeteria in number twenty-six.
He hoped it wasn't very good. Without leaving the plaza, he bought
himself a copy of the Wall Street Journal and a pair of cheap
sunglasses and waited. Around eleven thirty, he had read every article
in the paper at least twice. But, he noticed that people with federal
ID cards were starting to leave the building, first at a trickle, but
building to a steady stream. Thule watched them openly, as if he were
waiting for someone specific which, of course, he was.

Around one o'clock, the stream of people seemed to thin out and Thule
wondered if he had missed her or she wasn't coming out. If she'd
chosen to eat lunch inside the building or not to eat lunch at all,
Thule might have to go ahead with his original plan of walking in and
praying that he got an honest agent.

At one forty, she emerged from the building, sipping from a bottle of
Diet Coke. Thule stood up, stretching his legs and lighting a
cigarette. She was engaged in animated conversation with a man in his
early forties, also wearing an FBI badge. As they passed by him,
Thule's stopped breathing. She glanced at his as if trying to figure
out who he was, but the dark glasses and hands cupped over his mouth
seemed to be enough that it was no more than a glance and he saw no
recognition in her eyes.

He did get a chance to see the name on her badge now. Damned if she
hadn't used her real name. Once they were past, Thule turned and
followed them at a distance. They were headed downtown, still talking,
oblivious to his presence.

Thule knew he was taking an enormous risk. Trailing a couple of FBI
agents might be taken in an unfavorable light. Considering where Thule
knew the young agent from, she might be the Vandevoorts' mole inside
the Bureau. But, it didn't feel right.

Still, he hoped she wasn't going to lunch with the other agent. If she
was, he would have to trust two people with what he knew and he'd
never seen the older agent before.

For a minute, he lost sight of her in the Wall Street lunchtime crowd,
but she was distinctive looking enough that he caught sight of her
again right outside of Trinity Church. She turned west, heading
towards the World Trade Center, alone now. Thule followed her. Now
that she was alone, he closed the distance between them, ready to
approach her.

Then, he turned the corner and there she was, standing in the shadow
of Trinity's cemetery wall. Thule almost bumped into her. She had
stopped and was facing him.

As he stopped short, she stepped right into him. Thule felt something
press into his belly.

"Mr. Roemer," she said evenly, "I have a revolver pressed to your
stomach. Please don't try anything stupid."

Thule's blood ran cold, but he flashed a winning smile, "Matika, it's
good to see you again. But, unless your revolver is leaking, you've
got a bottle of Diet Coke pressed to my stomach."

Then, he heard the click behind him and another voice say, "Good
catch, but I assure you that this gun is real."

Thule sighed and looked over his shoulder. It was the older agent.

"Don't move," said the man, "Keep your hands where I can see them." As
he spoke, he gave Thule an efficient patdown. Between him and Matika,
they kept what they were doing out of the eyes of people passing by.
Of course, this was New York. They probably could have slammed him
against the wall and done the patdown and people would have pretended
not to notice.

Thule said, "If you reach into the outer pocket of my laptop case,
there's a manila envelope with some photos in it. You'll want to see
them."

The man gestured with his head. Matika stepped wide around him and
retrieved the envelope. She opened it and pulled out the short stack
of 8 1/2 x 11 photo printouts. Thule knew which one was on top.

Matika's eyes widened. She took a few seconds, her gaze flickering
over different elements.

"It's okay, John," she said quietly. "I think he's on our side."

Thule's shoulders sagged with relief. Not taking the gun from Thule's
back, John took the stack of pictures from Matika. After a few
seconds, Thule felt the gun withdrawn from his back.

John was looking at the pictures one by one. He asked, "Where the hell
did you get these?"

"From an Atech-Terra VSHR-1700," said Thule, "that I planted in the
girls' locker room in the Mannsborough High School this Saturday."

"So," asked John, "you're a pervert?"

"Probably," said Thule, "but I put the camera there specifically to
catch Randy Vandevoort in the act of leading a gang rape. I would have
preferred to stop him."

"So," asked John, "why were you following Agent Nazarov?"

Thule smiled, "Because she's investigating the Vandevoorts."

Both agents stiffened. Matika said, "No one is investigating the
Vandevoorts. The Bureau is not in the business of engaging in personal
vendettas against this country's most respected citizens."

By the way John winced, Thule suspected Matika was quoting something.
He said, "You were at the party Saturday night. You were one of the
ringers. Mrs. Vandevoort introduced you to me."

Matika's eyes narrowed, "Yeah. And then you promptly screwed up all
the groundwork I'd done with her. I hope she was worth it."

"Groundwork?" asked Thule.

Matika didn't answer him, "Is that all you've got on the Vandevoorts?"

"No," said Thule, "I've got plenty more with me and duplicates of it
in several locations. I've been watching them for almost four years."

"Son of a bitch," said John in wonder.

"Is there somewhere we can go that I can show you what I've got?"
asked Thule, "It will take a while."

                                    -=-

Thule sat at the conference table, looking out the window at the
incredible view of the city as his laptop booted up. From ninety-seven
stories up, he could see up into the thirties, the Empire State
Building clearly outlined against the skyline, even though visibility
was not the best.

John and Matika had led him to the World Trade Center and up to the
offices of what looked like a small investment firm. They'd taken off
their badges identifying themselves as FBI somewhere along the line.
When they'd walked in to the firm's office, the receptionist had
referred to John as "big brother" or maybe "Big Brother." Thule
wondered which.

The conference room was equipped with a plethora of high-tech
anti-surveillance equipment, which John efficiently activated. As he
did, Matika made a few seemingly trivial phone calls regarding
birthday parties and free kittens.

Finally, John said, "You can speak freely now. What have you got for
us?"

Thule popped the first DVD into his laptop. For the purpose of this
presentation, he had chosen a DVD of his most damning evidence against
the Vandevoorts, "Ivan Vandevoort is expecting me at the Mannsborough
gun club at six p.m. I have to be out of here in an hour and a half at
the latest."

Matika said, "You'll stay as long as we need you."

Thule shook his head violently, "No. I'll stay as long as I can.
Everything here is encrypted with a 1024-bit key that requires my
password and biometrics. Let me make something clear. I know that I am
an amateur at this. To you two, I'm probably just some dilettante
mucking around where I don't belong. If you try to treat me as such,
you're not getting a damned thing from me."

Matika leaned down, trying to menace Thule. It might have worked
better if her blouse had not fallen forward, making eye contact
difficult, "You could get in a lot of trouble for not cooperating."

Thule scowled, "I don't think so. I get a strong sense you two are not
working with the blessing of the Bureau. You're being balked by higher
ups who are themselves either in bed with the Vandevoorts or being
pressured by someone in Washington who is. You've got maybe a half
dozen allies inside the Bureau on this. You won't go through the
courts to get me in trouble and, if you are the types to play rough,
I've got confederates who will release copies of everything I have to
the media and local law enforcement if I don't tell them not to in the
next few days. Besides," he let his eyes run up and down Matika's
body, "you really should be the good cop. You're much prettier than
John."

Matika stood up abruptly, flushed. John said, "Jesus fucking Christ on
a pogo stick." Thule thought he heard admiration in the older man's
voice.

"I have to leave in an hour and a half," said Thule, "It's important.
I'll leave you with copies of what I can't cover today. I've been very
thorough. I know how high Ivan's influence goes. It doesn't matter."

Now that he had their undivided attention, Thule typed in the
meaningless sixteen character code that unlocked the password
protection on the first DVD. A prompt came up that said, "Verify
Biometrics." Thule pressed his thumb into the laptop's touchpad,
holding it there until the prompt vanished. The touchpad was standard.
There was no biometric verification. Those systems were too expensive.
But, the agents didn't know that.

Thule started out showing an abbreviated recording of the rape of June
Kane. It played out through the overhead onto a large white screen
covering half of one wall. Thule had cut the recording down to just
under four minutes. Fully three quarters of it, she was screaming
threats or begging them to stop. He kept the sound high. It filled the
room. He let half of it run, not saying anything, watching the agents
become more and more uncomfortable. He let them squirm. He needed a
visceral as well as an intellectual response. Finally, he stood to one
side using a red laser pointer. He explained who everyone was and the
context of what was happening.

In the middle of his explanation, there was a soft knock at the
conference room door. Thule paused the presentation. Four more people,
three women and a man, came in. They were dressed in conservative
suits and ranged in age from early thirties to late fifties. Thule had
paused the presentation with the three cops passing Jane between them.
Randy looked on, smirking. As they came in, each one looked up at the
screen. Their reactions ranged from carefully-controlled rage to slack
horror. One of the women, looking to be about forty, gasped and
covered her mouth.

Once they'd all sat, Thule went on. He let the tape run until Randy
pushed June. He hadn't edited the dull thud of her head hitting the
bench, but it sounded elongated to him and echoed through the room.
The agents gasped as one, only John more or less maintaining his
composure.

"I edited this down," said Thule, "for the presentation. A perfect
copy of the original recording is on one of the DVDs I'll be handing
over to you. It was taken with an Atech-Terra VSHR-1700 penpoint
camera one of the many features of which is a tamper-proof timing and
GPS system guaranteed accurate to less than a tenth of a second and
sixteen hundred square meters. Atech-Terra has spent tens of millions
of dollars making sure that the time and GPS can't be faked and has
provided extensive legal support to make sure that it is admissible in
a court of law."

Next, Thule switched to a scan of one of the memos Dr. Edmonton had
given him, then a quick pass through the others. Then, he cut to a
composite of some of the imperfect blacking out and two instances
where names had been missed side by side with an analysis of what
letters were confirmed. The next shot was an overlay of a list of
names of girls from Mannsborough who had been listed as runaways. The
next screen was another composite--a half dozen newspaper obituaries
and two coroner's reports. He went through them silently.

The next picture was an overhead shot of the pool area on the
Vandevoort Estate. Thule said, "There are six men in this picture. One
is Ivan Vandevoort. The others are in violation of anti-racketeering
laws by being within five hundred feet of each other. Thule let the
tape run. Most of the words were lost, but it was clear that they were
discussing business. Thule knew that this was a weak piece of
evidence, but no one spoke up to point that out. They were still
rattled by what they'd seen before. Next, Thule worked quickly through
a number of news articles about various Vandevoort subsidiaries
engaged in minor malfeasances. Then, he showed a series of documents,
bills of lading, memos, packing lists, and assorted details that
painted a picture of smuggling and money laundering. The agents were
nodding and frowning now. They'd seen most of what Thule was showing
them and knew it wasn't enough to build a case on.

Thule took a deep breath, "I know what you're all probably thinking.
There's not enough here to get a conviction on the corporate charges.
I'm no legal expert, but I know that you don't go after a man as
powerful as Ivan Vandevoort with a case that sounds like a one-shot
episode of the X Files."

"But," he went on, "I believe that what evidence I have on his son,
Randy Vandevoort, and the extensive measures to which Ivan went to
cover up his son's activities is enough to implicate more than a dozen
of Ivan's closest advisors on enough conspiracy and accessory charges
to put them away for life at the very least. I've spent the last four
years of my life watching, collecting, and gathering information. I
know that I don't have the first bit of training in this area. I
probably made a thousand mistakes, corrupted evidence to the point of
inadmissibility, scared off people who might have been willing to
talk. I'm sorry for that."

He took a deep breath, "What you've seen is less than a tenth of what
I've collected. Everything I have is on these DVDs." He held up a
stack of a dozen shiny disks in individual plastic cases, then put
them down in front of Matika, "In addition to what's there, I have
access to more than two dozen people who have told me they will come
forward to testify about Randy's activities and Ivan's cover up of
them if a real case is made. I don't know how many will, but I believe
at least six would do damned near anything to bring them down."

Exhaustion washing over him, Thule sat down heavily in a chair behind
him, "In addition to what's on those DVDs, I was contacted last night
by Brianne Cole, a close confederate of Randy Vandevoort's who
procured many of the women he raped over the last four years." On the
mention of Brianne's name, a couple of agents nodded, "She asked me to
kill her boyfriend, Ian Kelly, for twenty five thousand dollars. I
told her I knew someone who would do it for her. I need to bring her
someone before this weekend. She currently believes that Randy
Vandevoort betrayed her. I have no doubt that she would testify if you
had a conspiracy to commit murder charge hanging over her head. I also
believe that Ivan has a lot of bodies buried somewhere near
Mannsborough. I am speaking literally. If need be, I think I've
figured out a way to find where the bodies are buried."

He switched to the last screen of the presentation. It showed the
sixteen character code he had typed in to access the DVDs, "This is
the code to unlock what's on the DVDs I just gave to Agent Nazarov.
Unless clearly marked, I have originals of all of the documents
scanned there. If anyone here is a mole for the Vandevoorts, I should
tell you that it's too late to stop this information getting out. I
hired a junk mailer to send out unencrypted, minorly expurgated copies
of these DVDs to over one hundred reporters, conspiracy theorists,
Internet pornographers, prosecutors, federal judges, FBI agents, CIA
agents, INTERPOL agents, and the national director of the Boy Scouts
of America, who I know personally to be a man of integrity. This
mailing will happen in thirty days, regardless of what happens here
today."

He stood up and on shaky legs, walked over to turn on the light.
Everyone in the room started trying to talk at once until John raised
his hands for silence. Then, he turned to Thule, "Mr. Roemer, could
you step out of the room for a few minutes while I discuss this with
the other agents?"

Thule looked at his cell phone, "Keep it brief, please. One way or
another, I've got to leave in forty minutes to meet Ivan Vandevoort at
a firing range and discuss the matter of why I slept with his wife."
He slipped out as everyone stared at him in stunned silence.

Outside the room, he leaned back against the wall and let himself
slide down until his legs had enough strength to hold him up. He was
quaking all over with relief and exhaustion. He'd done what he could.
Now, it was in the hands of the six people on the other side of the
door.

Taking a deep breath, Thule levered himself to his feet, calmed his
nerves, and went off looking for a bathroom. The receptionist handed
him a key and pointed the way.

When he handed the key back, the receptionist said, "Are you a friend
of my brother's?"

Thule laughed, "That's a tricky question."

"Oops," said the receptionist, "Forget I asked. I'm not supposed to
know anything about all that cloak and dagger stuff."

Matika emerged from the back, "There you are," she said to Thule, "I
was afraid you made a run for it."

Thule shook his head in the negative, "Too late for that now." Then,
he followed her back down the hall. When they were almost back at the
office, he asked, "How's it going in there?"

"John is making the case that you're running an elaborate hoax," said
Matika, "but I don't think he really believes it. Nobody's really sure
what to make of you. Most of them would give their eye teeth to be
able to put together an investigation like the one you ran on your
own. What on Earth possessed you to do all that? You must have spent
thousands of hours and tens of thousands of dollars on this
investigation. The camera you used to record that first rape you
showed us sells for like twenty thousand dollars."

Thule explained about Maya all the way from her rape by Randy
Vandevoort to yesterday. Matika watched with big, sympathetic eyes.
When he finished, she nodded, "Everyone in there has a personal grudge
against the Vandevoorts. John's been investigating them for over five
years and knew almost nothing about Randy's activities. What you've
given us is invaluable, although he's spitting nails about the
thirty-day limit you've put on him to begin prosecution."

Thule shrugged. The claim of a mass mailing had been a red herring.
Mass producing and mailing those DVDs would have cost over ten
thousand dollars and probably been easily traceable. He'd said it
deliberately to rush them and to take some heat off of anyone looking
for a single confederate, like Jonas, whose job is was to distribute
the files if Thule failed.

"Do you know what happened to Svetlana Vandevoort?" asked Matika.

"She's in New York, staying with someone," said Thule, "I have a
contact number for her that was good as of yesterday."

Matika's eyes hardened, "Did you really sleep with her?" When Thule
nodded, she said, "If I get my hands on her, I'm going to wring her
neck."

Thule raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"That bitch slipped me ecstasy," said Matika, "I barely made it out of
there in one piece."

Thule repressed the urge to chuckle, "That was pretty ballsy, going to
that party. It could have been a lot worse."

Matika shuddered, "I know. But, I had to get in there. We got a huge
amount of information about the structure of the family's operations
while I was there."

"I hope you don't get too much grief from your partner," said Thule,
"If I'd realized he didn't know you were at the party on Saturday, I
would have tried to avoid mentioning it."

Matika's face went blank, "Has anyone told you how unnerving it is
when you do that?"

"What?" asked Thule.

"How did you know I hadn't told John I was at the party yet?" asked
Matika.

Thule would have told her, but John stuck his head out into the
hallway and waved them back in.

As Thule began to gather his things up, John said, "First off, I
wanted to thank you for what you brought us today. I can't begin to
tell you how valuable it is. I'm slightly annoyed that you've forced
the Bureau's hand on the timing of the prosecution, but I suppose that
I understand why you felt the need to do it."

Thule slid the presentation DVD out of the laptop, brought out a hole
punch and popped a half dozen holes in it before snapping it into
quarters and throwing one quarter into the trash. For the first time,
he allowed himself to feel a surge of real hope that the FBI would
actually take him seriously and help him.

"There's no way that the Bureau will be able to ignore the video you
showed us. But, it could be spun in such a way as to limit the damage
to Randy. Were you serious about knowing where Ivan has bodies
buried?"

"That's not what I said," answered Thule, "I said that I think I can
find where the bodies are buried."

"How?" asked John.

"I can't go into the details now," said Thule, "but I'll get Vladi to
show me."

John said, "I really think you should tell me."

Thule shook his head, "It's not anything you can help with. Telling
you would be an unnecessary risk. But, I believe I can do it."

John gave him a pained look, then said, "Fine. About the cheerleader
who wants to off her boyfriend, we have a problem."

Thule waited patiently, slipping laptop into its case and closing the
velcro tabs.

"We don't have anyone we can use to pretend to be the killer," said
John, "We're all pretty identifiable as FBI agents. We're pretty sure
Ivan knows all of us have an interest in his activities." He glared at
Matika when he said that, "And we can't trust anyone else in the
agency. It'll take us at least a week to recruit someone who can do
it."

"I don't have a week," said Thule. "If I haven't done it by this
weekend, she's going to know I'm not serious about it."

"Do you know anyone who she would believe is willing to do it?" asked
John.

"Yeah," said Thule after less than ten seconds, "I know someone I can
use."

"Great. If you can get us the live cheerleader and a few bodies, we
should be ready to prosecute," John looked around the room, "Everyone
should get back to the office. I don't want to blow this one by having
someone figure out that we're all out together."

Thule didn't bother to try to leave. Once everyone had filed out, John
turned to him, "Have you ever considered a career in the Bureau?"

Thule laughed. It seemed an odd time to be recruited, "No, sir. I
don't see law enforcement in my furture."

John frowned, "Why not?"

Thule said, "I did what I did because of a promise. I followed the law
because I was able to do so and still accomplish what I needed to.
But, if it came down to a choice between breaking the law and failing,
I would have broken the law in a second. I may yet do so. Besides,
there are plenty of laws in this country that I could not, in good
conscience, enforce. Someone whose job it is to uphold the law should
have more respect for it than I do."

John chuckled, "I think you may have an overly rosy view of law
enforcement."

Thule's face was stony, "If what Randy and Ivan did weren't illegal, I
would have just blown their fucking heads off. I damned near did on a
number of occasions anyway."

John shook his head sadly, "You're going to be a dangerous man one
day, aren't you, Mr. Roemer?"

Thule shook his head in the negative, "Not me. This is my one and only
foray into this sort of thing. After I'm done with the Vandevoorts,
I'm just a mathematician."

                           -=-

Despite his best efforts, traffic and bad luck conspired to keep Thule
from the Mannsborough Gun Club until twelve minutes after six p.m. He
checked in with the guard at the front gate who directed him to one of
the distant rifle ranges, far away from the main club.

Thule knew that John was watching him from a distance or would be
soon. The agent had tried to convince him to cancel the meeting with
Ivan, but Thule knew that he couldn't and recommended that John watch
it from a distance.

"I can't protect you if he decides to shoot you," said John, "It's
going to be much harder to bring the Vandevoorts down if you're dead."

"I know," said Thule, "but if you see him do it, you'll have him on
murder one, which is a damned good start."

Thule liked John. The man hadn't bothered to tell him that he was
uncomfortable using someone as young as Thule for this sort of thing,
knowing that he was going to anyway. He also understood that warning
Thule about ruining the Vandevoort prosecution would carry more weight
than warning him that he could get himself killed. Because haste was
of the essence, Thule had ended up lending the agent his camera and
shotgun microphone.

As he strode up to the platform, Thule saw Jake breathe a noticeable
sigh of relief. Jonas was standing there with a high-powered rifle,
the accessories on which had probably cost a low five figures. It
wasn't the sort of gun you used for target practice. It was the kind
of gun you used when you wanted to make sure you didn't miss something
at long range...or when you wanted to show what a great marksman you
were without actually possessing any real skill.

Besides Ivan and Jake, Randy, Vil Umanski and a bored-looking Russian
girl wearing headphones, maybe in her late teens or early twenties sat
under the awning. Randy held a rifle far more appropriate to target
shooting. Jake held two and handed one to Thule as he came up the
stairs.

Thule checked the rifle as he took firing position next to Ivan,
making sure that it was in working order and there was a live round in
the breach.

"You're late, Mr. Roemer," said Ivan, lining up the laser sight on a
man-shaped paper target fifty yards away. He fired, the shot hitting
about a half inch below and an inch to the left of the white cross
indicating dead center.

"Unavoidable," said Thule. He lined his own rifle up by line of sight
on the next target over, took a deep breath, and fired. His bullet hit
less than a quarter inch away from dead center.

For some reason, Ivan glared at Jake before continuing, "I don't
suppose you were in New York visiting my ex-wife."

Thule fired three more shots in rapid succession, a satisfyingly tight
cluster around dead center, "And why would I do that?"

Ivan raised his rifle, the red tracking dot going past the target and
up the backdrop. Thule noticed a detail he had missed up until now.
There was a little silver Mercedes parked on top of the backstop,
headlights and hazards on. As Thule realized this, Ivan fired,
knocking out one of the headlights.

"You missed," said Thule, acting nonplussed.

"Not at all," said Ivan, "I'm just getting rid of something I don't
need anymore. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Take a shot at
it. It's very cathartic."

"No, thank you," said Thule, "I hate to see something beautiful wasted
for ugly purposes."

Ivan fired another shot, taking out the front, passenger-side window.
Then, he turned to Thule, "Maybe you'd like to keep it, then? If you
can't afford to fix the damage I've done, I'm sure I could lend you
some money for repairs."

Thule realized now that this must be Svetlana's car, the one he'd seen
the keys for on his living room floor. He allowed himself a couple of
seconds to wish that he could take Ivan up on his offer. He
desperately needed a new car. His was more than twenty years old, the
engine held together with significant amounts of gaffer's tape and
bailing wire. Then, he put the rifle down. It wasn't high caliber
enough and the single-shot action didn't allow for what he was going
to do next.

Dropping into a more stable firing stance, Thule pulled his own
handgun out of the back of his pants, flipped off the safety,
targetted, and fired. At this range, a handgun was not the best for
accuracy, but if he emptied the clip, he should hit what he was aiming
for.

The lights were on and exhaust coming out of the tailpipe. That meant
there was enough fuel to run the car. Thule's handgun roared into
life, much louder than the rifles they'd been using. The first shot
hit the gas cap. The second and third were lower, closer to his
target. The fourth entered the tank and, a split-second later, the car
exploded in a satisfying fireball.

Thule put his gun back and looked around. Vil and Jake had flattened
themselves to the ground. Randy had dropped his rifle. Ivan stood,
looking stunned, crouched down with his hands over his ears. The
Russian girl looked puzzled and took off her headphones.

Thule waited until Ivan opened his mouth to speak before cutting him
off.

"Thanks for the offer," he said, picking up the rifle again, "but I
don't need your leftovers."

Ivan scowled mightily, but proceeded to fall into the conversational
trap Thule had set for him, "Obviously," he said, "this is a recent
development."

Thule's grin was feral, "Is that's what bothering you, Ivan? Are you
afraid I fucked your wife?"

Ivan's face started to get red, "I know you fucked my wife."

Thule nodded, "Damned straight I did. I fucked her good and hard, too.
She said it was much better than you'd ever managed." Ivan was too
apoplectic to speak, so Thule went on, "I didn't think you'd have a
problem with it. You treated her like a whore, so I treated her like a
whore."

Thule was counting on the idea that Ivan wouldn't shoot him for being
with Sveta because to do so would be to admit that Thule had taken
something of value from him. On the other hand, he may have pushed the
man beyond his ability to reason. He hoped John was watching and
recording this. If Ivan did turn the rifle on Thule, it was really a
bad weapon for such close range. Thule should have enough time to step
closer in, draw his pistol and fire. At point-blank range, it would
blow a fairly large hole in Ivan. If he had time for a second shot, he
would take out Umanski, then hope that Randy was too stunned to fire
while he went for cover or that Jake would cover Randy once he figured
out what was going on.

Ivan loosened his grip on the rifle. As evenly as he could, he said,
"She is a whore."

Thule shrugged, "All the more reason not to treat her like one. You
may not have noticed, but your wife really likes sex and she's very,
very good at it. They don't get that good overnight." He pointed to
the girl with the headphones, "This new one you got, she's going to
have to be trained all over again." Not understanding what Thule was
saying, the girl waved at him. He went on, "Give her about three or
four years of seasoning and she'll be prime fucking material. Maybe
I'll look her up after you've trained her."

For the first time since he'd started this conversation, Thule caught
sight of Randy. Instead of the look of deadly rage he'd expected,
Thule saw that Randy was shaking with the effort of suppressing
laughter. Vil Umanski looked bored, which Thule assumed meant that he
was watching everything very carefully. Jake looked like he
desperately wanted to be anywhere but here.

Thule imagined how Ivan had planned for this evening to play out. He
would spend some time shooting the car until Thule begged to be
allowed to keep it. Then, he would introduce Thule to the new girl,
demonstrating how little he missed Svetlana. Bereft of any of those
plans, Ivan instead managed to sputter, "I didn't order you here to
talk about my wife."

Thule decided not to push his luck any farther today, "So, why did you
invite me here?"

Ivan seemed lost without a script. Randy stepped forward, "Take a ride
with me. We have a couple of HR requests we'd like you to fill."

It was with some trepidation that Thule walked down the long dirt path
and got into Randy's car, shifting his pistol from back to front. As
soon as the car doors closed, Randy put his head down on the steering
wheel and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Apparently,
whatever affection he'd developed for Svetlana was trumped by his
animosity towards his father.

When he finally got his breath back, Randy started the car and said,
"Postal, you really are a crazy motherfucker. He's going to kill you
one of these days."

Thule shook his head, "Fuck that. Maybe when he was younger he would
have, but he's all talk now."

Randy laughed. He obviously liked the idea, "I don't know, man. I
thought he was going to strangle you with his bare hands back there."

"Randy," said Thule, "don't take this the wrong way, but if he'd
tried, I would have blown his fucking head off."

Randy laughed again, "I hope you didn't stop yourself on my account."

Thule decided to draw him out a little farther, "What do you mean?"

Randy's face got serious. Then, he shrugged, "The will is written.
Something happens to him, it's all mine. If you had blown his head
off..." he trailed off and shrugged again.

Thule laughed, "Yeah. It would be just peachy for you. But, I've got
plans that do not involve going to jail."

Randy waved away his concern, then said seriously, "You wouldn't go to
jail. I would make sure of it."

Thule said, "Thanks, but no. You know, if you really wanted him dead,
you could do it yourself."

They drove in silence for almost a minute after that before Randy
said, "Nah. I can be patient."

Thule laughed, "Sure. Sure. He's what, forty two?" He acted like he
was doing the math, "If he retires at sixty five, you can take over
when you're...about his age."

"Right," said Randy.

"Does he plan to retire at sixty-five?" asked Thule.

"He hasn't discussed it," said Randy.

"You know," said Thule, "It's a real shame the way things turned out
with Svetlana. I know she's a little screwed up, but he really
shouldn't have treated her the way he did."

Again the rode in silence. They'd done about half the circuit of the
inner ring of the gun club's grounds when Randy said, "No. That was
definitely uncool."

Thule decided he'd pushed hard enough, "So, what did your old man want
you to talk to me about?"

Randy looked more animated now, "Open the glove compartment," he said.
Thule did. There was a bulging manila envelope in there, "There are
three people he'd like you to find places for inside of Tarr. And,
there's ninety kay in cash, as your finder's fee. He also wants you to
try to get the first guy you placed into a better position. He's
useless where he is. My father says the fee is non-negotiable. Take it
or leave it."

Thule chuckled, "I guess it's not a bad fee for an afternoon worth of
work."

Randy said, "You know, you could buy two of those Mercedes for what's
in that envelope."

Thule nodded, "I'm sure your father knew that too. I suspect the idea
was to get me to betray Sveta by taking the car, then make me feel
like I'd done it for nothing by giving me the money."

"Yeah," said Randy, "that sounds like him. But, how the hell did you
figure that out? You haven't been spying on us, have you?"

Thule laughed, but said nothing.

                                         -=-

After he'd retrieved his equipment from John and been reprimanded for
trying to get himself killed, Thule headed home. It wasn't even eight
o'clock yet, but he felt like he just wanted a shower and sleep.

Seeing the living room light on, Thule reached for his pistol before
he remembered that Dawn was living with him now. When he came in, she
looked up from the couch, where she was watching TV, "How did it go?"

Thule slid the handgun out of his waistband and laid it on the living
room table. Then, he crouched down and took the manila envelope out of
the laptop case. He upended it, letting the cash slide out next to the
car. Dawn's eyes widened, "It went better than I expected."

"How much is that?" Dawn asked.

"Roughly?" asked Thule, "About four years of MIT."

"The FBI paid you?" asked Dawn.

"No," said Thule, "I had a meeting with Ivan Vandevoort afterwards.
That's for placing industrial spies inside of Jonas's company."

Dawn looked alarmed, "And you're going to do it?"

Thule said, "Jonas knows I'm doing it." He walked into the bedroom and
came out a few seconds later with a small, black box. As he talked, he
started to disassemble and clean the pistol, "We bring in Ivan's
spies, put them where they can't do much damage, then feed them
misinformation, which they report back as fact."

Dawn seemed fascinated by what Thule was doing with the pistol, "Why
are you taking the gun apart? Is it broken?"

"No," said Thule, "I'm cleaning it. When you own a gun, you always
want to keep it clean and oiled. A dirty gun can jam or blow up in
your face. I clean this one every Sunday."

"Today's Tuesday," pointed out Dawn.

"I also clean it after it's been fired," said Thule.

"You fired it today?" asked Dawn, alarmed again.

"Down at the firing range," said Thule, "Just a few practice shots."

"Could I learn to clean it?" asked Dawn.

"Why?" asked Thule.

"I want to be useful around here," said Dawn, "And, it would be cool.
I'd feel like a gangster's moll, cleaning your guns."

"I only have one," said Thule. Taking up the pistol, he showed Dawn
how to seat and unseat the clip, how to determine if the gun was
loaded or not, and how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble it. Then,
he walked her through the process herself. At first, he'd had the idea
that Dawn might have asked as a way to try to seduce him.  But, she
seemed enthralled now.

"Could you teach me to shoot?" she asked.

"Sure," said Thule.

Dawn's eyes widened, "Really?"

Thule nodded, "Sure. We could go down to the club this weekend."

"What about now?" Dawn asked.

"The club is closed after eight," said Thule, "and I've had enough of
that place today."

"Couldn't we just go out back and shoot?" asked Dawn.

"We could," said Thule, "but a high-caliber pistol like this can fire
a bullet a good half mile if it doesn't hit something. So, I wouldn't
recommend it."

"Oh," said Dawn, sounding disappointed.

Thule filled and reseated the clip. Now that he had time to relax, he
realized he hadn't eaten anything since the bagel this morning. He
asked, "Did you eat?"

Dawn nodded, "I didn't know when you were going to be home. I had some
of that stir fry you had in the freezer. I made enough for two,
though. It just needs heating up."

"Great," said Thule, rising, "Where is it?"

"I'll take care of it," Dawn said. "You put away the guns and money
and get washed up."

"You know," said Thule, "if you keep spoiling me, I could start to get
used to it."

"I'll take my chances," said Dawn. "Now, go get ready."

Thule took the cash up to the attic. As he put it away, he stared at
the contents of the lockbox. There was more than one hundred fifty
thousand dollars up there now.  Even with tuition, room and board,
books, and incidentals, the next four years shouldn't cost that much.
Plus, he had a healthy chunk of change in the bank, his savings of the
last few years. In the duffel bag, there were a few thousand more. He
debated feeling bad about having turned his revenge into such a
profitable venture. He decided not to. It was Ivan's money. If Thule
didn't take it, it would most likely end up financing another rape for
Randy.

Thule went downstairs, put the gun and the duffel bag away, took a
shower and changed into sweats and a t-shirt advertising Adobe
Illustrator. He would never be able to sleep tonight if he didn't go
down to the basement and work off some of his nervous energy on the
bench before he got some sleep.

As he followed that train of thought, Thule suddenly remembered what
he'd told Dawn this morning. He shook his head at himself.

"Thule," Dawn called, "dinner's ready."

Thule went out to the table and sat down, "You really don't have to do
all this," he said to Dawn.

"I'm just showing my appreciation," said Dawn from behind him as she
put the plate down in front of him, "If I were home right now, I'd be
locked in my room with the stereo turned up to drown out the
fighting."

"Well, I appreciate it," said Thule. He'd already eaten three or four
bites when he realized Dawn was still standing right behind him. He
turned around.

Dawn was standing there, hand on her hip, amused smile on her face,
bare from the waist up. She giggled, "I was wondering when you were
going to notice."

"I, uh..." said Thule.

"I know what you're going to say," said Dawn, "once you regain the
power of speech. I made dinner because I'm grateful to be here. This,"
she held her hand palm up in front of her neck, then drew it down as
if showcasing her body, "is because I want to--not because I'm
grateful or because Marigold wants me to. It makes me happy to be with
you, Thule. I want to make you happy, too."

"I, uh..." said Thule again.

"Eat your dinner," said Dawn, "I have a couple of things I have to do
before bed." So saying, she padded out of the living room into her
room.

"I, uh..." said Thule a third time, but she was already gone. Reaching
up to rub his temples, he started eating again. Afterwards, he cleared
the dishes away. As he started to wash them, Dawn re-emerged again.
She was wearing a black silk robe. Her hair was down and she had
washed off her makeup.

"Thule," she said quietly.

Thule looked up, drying his hands, "Yes, Dawn?"

"I'm tired of waiting for the perfect moment," said Dawn, "I'm tired
of playing games. I'm going to ask you something and, if you say no,
I'm going to cry."

Thule nodded, approaching her already. His arm was already around her
when she spoke.

"Could we go to bed now?" Dawn asked, looking up at him, "Please?"

Thule took Dawn's face in his hand, tilting her head back. He kissed
her. Dawn pressed herself against him, lips slightly open. Thule
lowered his head to kiss her. It was sweet and gentle, not passionate.
That would come soon enough. Mid-kiss, Dawn giggled.

Thule looked down at her, "What?"

"Do you remember when I fainted and you carried me in here?" asked
Dawn. Thule nodded. She said shyly, "I wasn't totally unconscious when
you did that. And, I really liked it."

Thule chuckled and picked Dawn up, carrying her into his bedroom. She
wrapped her arms around his neck, not letting go when he laid her down
on the bed. She rose to kiss him. Thule kissed her back, less gently
this time. As they kissed, he lay down next to her, their bodies
pressed close together all along their length. For a long time, they
just kissed, over and over again. For once, Thule let himself behave
like a high school boy, taking a long time before he even laid a hand
on her belly, through the robe. At that point, she'd already stripped
off his shirt and lay halfway across him.

Dawn finally broke from the kissing long enough to gasp, "Thule."

Thule looked at her, amused, "Yes?"

"I appreciate you taking it slow, but you don't have to take it that
slow." Her eyes gleamed with desire, "I'm not...well, I mean I am, but
I don't have..." She flushed.

Thule leaned up and kissed her again, "I understand. You don't have to
explain." He reached down and undid the belt of her robe, then slid
his fingers across her bare flesh, pushing aside one side and then the
other. Raising himself on one elbow, he kissed her chin, then her
throat. Dawn arched her back, exposing her neck to be kissed. Thule
lingered in the hollow of her throat, sliding his hand down between
her legs. Her downy hair was already damp as he slid his fingers
through it and teased one a little way inside of her.

Dawn gasped and arched more. Thule moved his head down to one breast,
kissing down it and around the nipple as his finger became more
adventurous, first stroking the length of her clit, then probing
inside.

Dawn shuddered a little at the touch, "Oh, Thule," she whispered, then
chuckled throatily, "I like that."

Thule nodded, moving his mouth to her nipple, taking it between his
lips, his tongue teasing the end of it. Dawn twisted and gave a sound
of alarm.

"Too much?" asked Thule.

Dawn nodded, "A little."

Thule pulled his head away, letting his free hand go to her other
breast, kneading and massaging it.

"Mmmmm," said Dawn, "that's nice."

Thule let his hands keep doing what they were doing and returned to
kissing Dawn. It was much more passionate now. Dawn wrapped her hands
around the back of his head and kissed him back.

After a while, Dawn's breathing and pulse were racing. Thule watched
her intently, knowing she was ready, but savoring the moment of her
readiness. Every once in a while, she would whimper and reach for him,
but he would pull away.

As hard as he tried not to, Thule found himself comparing his feelings
for Dawn with those he had for Marigold. He cared deeply for Dawn and
wanted her intensely right now. But, there was none of the frantic
urgency he had when he was with Marigold. It made him a little sad
that he couldn't give her the love she deserved, but at the same time,
it made what he was doing easier. He wanted her and she wanted him and
both of them knew what they were doing and what it meant.

Finally, he turned his body so that he was looming over her. He
lowered his head to her breast again, licking and sucking at her
nipple. Dawn pressed his head into her, not letting him go.

"Oh, God, Thule," she said, "You're going to kill me like this. Stop
being such a tease."

Thule raised his head, "See how you like it." He slid down her body,
kissing her between her legs. She shuddered. He slid his tongue into
her. She trembled, "No, Thule," she said, "I can't take it."

Thule didn't listen, licking her clit up and down in a slow motion.
She reached for his hair to try to pull him away, but he didn't have
enough hair to grab. Thule could feel her fighting the pleasure,
afraid to let go. He dug his tongue deeply into her now, breathing the
musk of her arousal in deeply.

"Oh, God," she cried out, "I'm coming." But, she wasn't. She was still
pre-orgasmic, still fighting the pleasure. Thule ran his fingertip
over her clit now while his tongue continued to probe. For long
minutes, he kept at her, relentless, while she whimpered against the
pleasure of it, begging him to stop. Finally, Thule slid his finger
out of her and buried it in her from behind. Dawn let out a squeal and
tried to tense against him, but it was already too late. With a
momentary look of betrayal, she let the fight go out of her and came,
hard. Thule kept at her, driving the pleasure.

"Thule," she begged through gritted teeth, "Please fuck me already. I
can't take anymore."

Finally, Thule complied, sliding up her body, pulling his hand out of
the way. Dawn pressed her hand into the small of his back, urging him
onward. Thule entered her. She laughed as he did it.

She had been right. There was no tension, no tearing. Thule felt
himself bottom out inside of her without hurting her. It was a tight
fit inside of her, but pleasantly so. He began thrusting into her. She
pushed his back and raised her hips in time, not letting him be
gentle, driving him on, calling out his name. Each thrust came a
little faster than the one before until he was pounding into her hard
and fast. The sensation of Dawn coming around him, her nails digging
into his buttocks, drove Thule over the edge. He came with a
shuddering gasp.

Even after he emptied into her, Thule kept thrusting, staying inside
of Dawn until he slid out of her on his own. Flopping over onto his
back, he drew her into his arms, kissing the top of her head.

"Oh, my God," said Dawn, panting, "I thought you were going to kill
me."

Thule chuckled, "I can tell that you're going to be good for my ego."

"Of course," said Dawn, "I have nothing to compare it to."

Thule nodded, "You're right. That might have been mediocre. Maybe I'm
saving the really good sex for later."

Dawn nuzzled into his chest, eyes closed and nodded. She was still
shuddering a little with aftershocks of pleasure. Thule lay there
listening to her breathing until it slowed into sleep.

Princes of Mannsborough, Part 19
by Vulgar Argot
(MF, rom)

--Vulgar Argot
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VulgarArgot/www
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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