| Subject: This I Offer 14/20 |
Author:
Athena4
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Date Posted: 17:20:48 03/09/02 Sat
In reply to:
Athena4
's message, "This I Offer" on 14:58:36 03/03/02 Sun
When Madeline returned from her walk in the garden, Joseph was waiting for her. Seated in a large armchair in the corner, he looked her up and down as she entered the room, a scowl of distaste warping his features.
“Come with me,” he said, standing and crossing the room. “Now.”
She walked behind him silently, following him through a maze of corridors towards the other side of the compound. He walked slowly, deliberately, his stance and attitude making it clear he didn’t like the errand he’d been sent on.
Madeline sighed deeply; his wasn’t the only change in behaviour she’d witnessed lately. All the servants were on edge; they tiptoed around Joseph and steered clear of Ryker completely. She knew that that, at least, had something to do with Cesar’s betrayal, and the failure of several other crucial sales, but it still didn’t quite explain Joseph’s dislike of her in particular.
The fact that she was a grieving widow, and Ryker’s lover, meant nothing to him. Or, perhaps it meant everything….
“In there.”
Joseph left her standing alone at the end of a large hallway, double doors standing slightly ajar in invitation. The guards that stood on either side of the doorway walked back up the hallway after Joseph, never even looking in her direction.
She’d finally gotten her invitation to Ryker’s apartments.
Pushing open the door, she quickly scanned the room before entering, focussing her attention on the sitting area on the far side. The only light in the room was the fire blazing on the hearth, its heat radiating almost to where Madeline stood. Two chairs were pulled into comfortable positions next to the fireplace, a decanter and a single glass set on a table between them.
Ryker held the other glass, swirling the scotch in slow circles. His back was to her, his attention drawn to the fire. His other hand waved in the air in seemingly random patterns, patterns that, on closer inspection, matched the beat of the music playing on the stereo.
Wagner again.
It was testament to his mood that he didn’t notice her entrance; she was beside his chair before he reacted at all. At his gesture to sit, she knelt beside him instead, placing a steadying hand on his thigh.
“Joaquim?” she said softly, pulling his attention away from his glass and towards her face.
The smile on his face deepened when he saw her positioned by his side. She knew immediately where his thoughts had taken him. Reaching out, he stroked her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I trust Joseph didn’t lead you astray?”
“No, he didn’t, but…”
“Good, good. You’ll have to forgive Joseph,” he cut in, raising his glass to drink deeply from his scotch. Madeline was surprised. In the few weeks she’d known him, she had never seen Ryker take more than a few small sips of champagne in her presence. He stroked a bit of her hair as he continued. “He thinks I spend too much time with you, that you’re a distraction.” He smiled again, and this time it developed its usual lecherous quality as his hand slid down to run a fingertip over her breast. “He might be right, you know. But you’re such a pleasant distraction….”
He stopped his caress suddenly, pulling her into a standing position before him, her legs straddling his knees. Putting his glass down on the table next to him, he clasped her hips in his hands, his face between her breasts, his breath warm through the thin cotton of her shirt.
”I – “ It was becoming difficult to speak, or even to think. She shuddered at his touch, at the distraction, her body melting against his. No her mind screamed. Not again. Not this time. This time she would have control. Sliding her hands up his arms, she pushed him back against the chair, lifting his glass from the table as she pulled away. “Let me freshen this for you,” she said, stepping out of his embrace and circling the chairs to access the decanter from the far side of the table – out of Ryker’s reach. “I could use a little myself.”
Ryker smiled up at her as she poured, his eyes following her every movement. “I’ve never known you to drink,” he said quietly. “You continue to be a woman of mystery.”
“I’ve never known you to drink either,” she replied, smiling slyly. “Perhaps it’s a change for the better in both of us?”
Ryker chuckled, crossing the room to stoke the fire. Seizing her opportunity, Madeline removed the vial from her pocket, and emptied its contents into his glass. She only hoped it worked quickly.
“Things are going very badly for me,” he said, returning to his chair and lifting his glass to sip. She sat in the chair on the other side of the table, leaving her own glass where it stood.
“How so?” she encouraged.
“Mmmm… Doesn’t matter,” he replied, drinking more heavily from the tumbler. “You, my dear, mustn’t concern yourself with such things.”
His words were starting to slur slightly, and Madeline slid forward in her chair, reaching across the distance between them to touch his leg. “You sound tired,” she said, kneeling before him once more and sliding her hand further up his leg, rubbing his penis through his trousers. “Why don’t we go to bed? We can make it all go away.”
Madeline shuddered as said the words, knowing that, deep down, they reflected her own desires.
Ryker, mistaking her shudder for pure desire placed a hand over hers, pressing the heel of her hand into his crotch. Madeline slipped her hand away carefully, clasping his hand and pulling him, precariously, into a standing position. The drug had taken effect more quickly than she’d expected, he stumbled as he rose, his arm barely catching around her waist to steady himself.
“I – I must have had too much to drink,” he stuttered, leaning on her for support. Even in his unsteady state, his free hand strayed lower, grasping her buttocks clumsily as he walked.
“We’re almost there,” she said, pulling away from his touch. Turning to face him, she pulled him by both hands through the doorway to the right of the fireplace, dodging his roving hands. Finally, she felt the bed against the back of her legs, and sighing deeply, moved aside, allowing him to fall heavily onto it.
“Made- Madeline?” he moaned, turning over onto his back. He struggled to sit up, but failed, the drug saturating his blood enfeebling his motor functions. Grinning slightly, Madeline sat next to him on the bed, stroking his forehead as he lolled his head towards her. He wouldn’t be conscious much longer. “You’re different…” he mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning in to her hand. “Not like the other wives. They weren’t a challenge… you’re more – “
Ryker’s words became a jumble of incomprehensible phrases. Locations, names, and stories spliced together in short sentences, until finally they trailed off completely – a soft snore replacing his slurred speech.
Madeline stood slowly, careful not to shake the bed too much, and pulled a blanket up over Ryker’s slumbering form. He’d be out for at least a couple of hours, and with the guards gone from outside the door, it gave her the perfect opportunity to search his quarters unimpeded.
Shutting the bedroom door behind her, she returned to the sitting area, scanning the room for signs that the guards, or a maid, had returned. The room was quiet, and she entered further, walking over to the desk that sat in the opposite corner. She sat on the chair before it and started her search, sweeping her eyes over the top before opening the drawers.
Personnel files and background checks on his servants and guards. Extremely thorough checks, including past affiliations and psychological assessments. Grocery orders, awaiting his signature before being filled by his staff. Pads full of scribbled notes – administrative, and personal. A notation book, short musical compositions filling the pages. But nothing related to his clients or orders. Nothing at all of interest beyond a few scribbled notes about locations.
As she slid the last drawer shut, Madeline pushed the chair back, glancing towards the bedroom. She could still hear Ryker snoring steadily, the occasional garbled word finding its way into his slumber. She still had some time.
The bookshelf behind the desk contained as much useless information as the desk itself. Several account books - house accounts, not business. An album of photographs; naked women, apparently the wives of previous employees. A few books, both paperback and hardcover. A leather bound, illuminated copy of The Pearl. Several audio and video tapes, unlabelled. Six or seven more notation books, these bulging with excess sheets of lined paper. And…
Her eyes jumped back. The Pearl? With a quick look back towards the bedroom, Madeline reached for the book, pulling it down off the shelf. What were the chances of him having two exact copies of the book? It was lighter than it should have been, its pages rigid, and Madeline smiled to herself, pulling open the cover. Just as she’d suspected, the interior of the book was hollow, its contents hidden by only a few pages of text.
And inside was exactly what she’d been looking for. Several rolls of microfiche were embedded in a recess, each coiled into its own small canister. None were labelled specifically, but each had several letters emblazoned on the front – letters that corresponded with codes that Madeline had seen during her search of Ryker’s study.
Pocketing the canisters, she replaced the book, ensuring that everything was exactly as she’d found it, even going so far as to tilt the chair at the same angle. She would have to remain in Ryker’s compound while Section analysed the value of the data, and she didn’t need him suspicious of her behaviour.
With one final look in on Ryker, she left his apartments, retracing her steps to her own. Tomorrow, she’d meet with Martin, and finally this mission would end.
*****
Two days later, as profiled, all hell broke loose in Ryker’s compound. With the viability of the microfiche determined, Section descended swiftly, taking Ryker and his cohorts into custody, and destroying all traces of his establishment.
In the early morning hours of the third day, Madeline boarded a Section jet to Paris. As it rose from the tarmak, she watched Stockholm melt away beneath her, sighing with relief as it finally faded from view. It was over. She was finally going home.
Closing her eyes, she lay her head back against the seat, suppressing the urge for tears that threatened to overwhelm her. It had been a long, difficult mission. She simply needed time to pull herself together, time to grieve…
She felt the weight of Martin’s hand on hers, and opened her eyes, turning her head so she could meet his gaze. “You know, if you need anything…” he began, squeezing her hand. “You know where to find me…”
Tightening her hand around his, she offered a weak smile before turning back towards the window, her eyes moist with unshed tears. She knew, and on some level, Martin understood as well – once she returned to Section she could no longer deny the truth. She could no longer hide in Ryker’s arms, or ignore the reality.
Paul was gone.
When she disembarked in Paris, he wouldn’t be there. Never again would she hear his voice, or feel his touch. There would be no one to celebrate her return, no one to comfort her in her loss.
Nothing but the labyrinthine, emotionless tunnels of Section.
Closing her eyes once more, she allowed the tears to fall.
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