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Date Posted: 15:36:04 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Part 41 - language & twisted OpsMaddy warning
In reply to: Lila 's message, "The Beginning - Part 33 and Up" on 15:11:24 05/03/02 Fri

Part 41

“I’m so glad you’re in Paris,” Operations said as he sat in Adrian’s living room.

“Yes, well,” she said, “I had some business to attend here.”

“Michael Samuelle,” he said, lighting a cigar.

“You know I don’t approve of your smoking,” she said, watching the smoke from the match drift towards her ceiling.

Paul laughed, “Tell me, Adrian, when was the last time you approved of anything I did?”

Adrian waved her hand dismissively, “Why didn’t you marry her?” she asked.

“You think that would have prevented this?” he asked. “You should know better…” he said, “and if I’m not mistaken, you do.”

Adrian flattened her hands against her lap, pushing on the fabric of her skirt. “I’m not sure I follow,” she said.

Paul inhaled a long draw from his cigar, and slowly blew it into the room, filling it with smoke. “Bullshit, Adrian,” he said. “You’ve finally put it all together, haven’t you?”

Adrian stirred some milk into her tea, her spoon clanging the cup as she mixed it. “Why?” she asked, “You could have killed him years ago, done anything you wanted. Instead, a tremendous, costly game. Why?”

Operations tapped his ashes into an ashtray. “Because I can,” he said.

Adrian sighed, and sipped from her teacup. “When did this happen to us?”

Laughter, “Adrian, since when did you become so sentimental. You’ve destroyed as much as I have. Do I have to remind you of everything you’ve done to Samuelle? Even I feel bad for the poor bastard.”

“If that’s true,” she said, “Then allow him some happiness with the girl.”

“We shall see, my dear, we shall see,” he responded.

Adrian placed her teacup on the table, turned, eyes schooled on Paul’s. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“You’ve helped Walter, Samuelle, and schemed with Madeline. I’m here out of courtesy. Don’t interfere with this anymore. You’re in over your head.” He smiled, and inhaled again from his cigar, his gaze still meeting hers.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said.

Operations raised an eyebrow, thought, and said, “I wanted to marry her. I didn’t care whose baby it was.”

“Well,” Adrian said, “Why didn’t you act like the man you were, and marry her?”

“She didn’t love me,” he said sadly.

“Paul,” Adrian said, “She adored you. She was devastated when you left that last time.”

“She may have adored me, but the only person she loved was herself. You know that,” he said. His cool demeanor was quickly turning to agitation. “Why are we still talking about this?” he asked, not hiding his irritation.

“Because you’ve manipulated every moment of her daughter’s life, and I’m just curious how you’ll explain that to her.”

Paul stood to leave, “As long as Philippe is dead by her hand…”

Adrian stood and said, “I won’t interfere with that, but I make no promises about the rest.” She heard the door slam, but she knew her message had been received.

************

Birkoff was sick of sitting in the analysis room, working on the disk. It was so obvious, he couldn’t believe Madeline thought he needed an entire hour. It was all a scam, everything. He laughed out loud. “If these are the people protecting us from terrorists, we’re in big trouble.”

“What was that again, Mr. Birkoff?” Madeline asked.

“Huh?” he said, startled, not having heard her enter the room. He looked up at her from the screen, “Nothing,” he said, “I was just mumbling.”

“So,” she said, having heard everything Birkoff had muttered, “What have we discovered?”

“Well, um,” he said, not knowing where to begin, feeling as though it was his job to fill all the silence in the world. “I think this guy isn’t real.”

“Explain,” she said, her arms crossed in front of her.

“It looks like he’s in control, but when I analyzed the data, made some connections, considered…”

“Get on it with,” she interrupted.

“It’s not him. It’s someone else.”

Madeline was about to speak when she was called on the intercom. Birkoff watched her as she listened to the voice. “I understand,” she said. She turned back to Birkoff and said, “A full report please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, as she exited, vowing he would actually read the material before sending it. It was time he realized how the game was played here.

************

The sun had set, and a half moon softly lit the night sky. The hills were dark, but faint outlines clear to the eye. An unusually warm wind blew from the south.

“I’m pouring,” Walter said as Michael and Nikita arrived on the rooftop terrace. Walter had moved the three chairs so that two were side-by-side, the third near enough for them to hear him, far away enough, so no one could strike him. Michael and Nikita sat in the two, Walter in the third.

Walter lifted his glass and raised it to Nikita. “Sunflower,” he said, “I’m sure by the time I’m done, you’re going to either want to kill me, or have killed me, and I just want to say… that…” he swallowed and steadied his voice, “well, Sugar, I love you. And I’d do anything for you.” Michael and Nikita held their glasses and waited. Walter exhaled, the air vibrating his lips like a horse. “And even though it seems I’ve sold you out, I’ve done everything I can to protect you.”

Nikita burst into laughter, Michael grasped her hand, fearing for her sanity. “Walter,” she said, voice brimming with joy and love, “You are so full of shit!” She leaned forward, and not being able to reach him, stood, and through her arms around him.

Walter was perplexed, “Gee, Sugar,” he said, “What the?” She squeezed him so hard, he thought his back was going to give out. He gently pushed her away, “I don’t understand,” he said. “Because of me, you’re in the shit.”

Nikita moved back to her seat next to Michael. “Walter, because of you,” she said, “I’m alive, I’m strong,” she placed her hand on Michael’s leg, “my heart is happy, and all of these things are blessings.” She sipped from her wine and smiled at him.

Walter shook his head, knowing everything she said was true, and feeling a little angry that he’d been unable to instill anger in her. She should have been angry with him, raging, screaming, and she was smiling. Damn her, she was too fucking good. He picked the bottle off the table, and refilled his glass.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your mother,” Walter said.

Nikita rolled her eyes, “Walter, enough apologies,” she said, “Just tell me about her.”

Walter grinned, loving her more each minute. “Sugar, your mom was the cat’s meow.” Nikita frowned. “I know she wasn’t that way for you, and I’m sorry. But before drugs destroyed her, she was a thousand watt bulb in a fifty watt world.”

************

“Walter, this is Roberta,” Lieutenant Wolfe announced as he entered the rickety two-floor cabin they’d been using as a command center. “I met her in Bangkok, and…” Wolfe planted a large kiss on her mouth, “she insisted on meeting everyone.”

“Ma’am,” Walter said, eying the lovely brunette, “Pleased to meet you.”

Roberta Wirth floated through the premises, as if riding a magic carpet. “This is charming,” she said.

“Charming?” Walter grumbled, seeing only water-stained wood, old furniture, plumbing that barely worked, uncomfortable beds, and ceiling fans that fell from the ceiling.

“Darling,” Roberta said to Paul, “is he always this grumpy?”

Wolfe laughed. “Pretty much, but don’t let it fool you, it’s just an act.”

A jeep pulled up to the house, Adrian and the two Frenchmen arriving. They entered the house, took one look at Roberta, and Marcotte said to Wolfe, “No civilians.”

Roberta beamed, walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his arm and asked, “Now who do we have here?” She led him to the couch, and sat with him. “You must be the irresistible Gerard,” she said.

Marcotte looked at her, smiled, and said, “And what else has the lieutenant told you?” implying someone had loose lips.

“That you made the best coq au vin in Asia!” she said, “and he promised me you’d make some – immediately. Right Paul?” she cooed.

The lieutenant was speaking quietly with Adrian. “What honey?” he asked.

“Coq au vin! You promised! And I’ll help, I brought pearl onions, coq au vin isn’t the same without it! Now show me the kitchen this instant!” Roberta had produced a joint from somewhere and had passed it to Marcotte. He hesitated, holding it between his thumb and first finger. “Straight from in counry,” she said, “pure honey.”

Marcotte drew a hit, grasped Roberta’s hand and said, “Right this way, my lovely new friend,” as they exited the room to find the kitchen.

“What is this all about?” Adrian asked Paul as the two left for the kitchen.

Paul lit a cigarette, and stuck it between his lips. “She’s just a girl, don’t worry about her.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, “Just a girl.” She sighed, “You aren’t the ‘just a girl’ type, my friend. You’ve been away for a month.”

“And?” he asked.

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“Six months, when I’m in Bangkok,” he answered, staring back at her, challenging.

“I don’t care what you do with your personal life,” Adrian said, “You just be careful that she doesn’t get involved where she doesn’t belong.”

Paul laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about that. She’s smart, but she she’s on a holiday from life. She doesn’t care what we do.”

How many times had women been used to distract the causes of men, Adrian wondered. “Just be careful,” she said, and joined the fun in the kitchen.

************

“What is so urgent?” Madeline asked, entering Paul’s private suite at Section.

Operations sat at a table, reviewing some documents, he looked up at the maddeningly lovely Madeline. “Drink?” he asked.

“No thank you,” she answered, becoming somewhat tired of their daily rituals. She sat on the couch, halfway across the room from Paul’s desk.

Paul stood and walked over to the perfectly designed and polished mahogany bar. He popped open a bottle of Dom, and poured two glasses. “Come now, Madeline,” he said, smirking, “it’s time we had a little chat.”

“I am quite busy,” she said, “I was in the middle of a briefing with Mr. Birkoff.”

He walked over to Madeline and handed her a glass, “It’s your favorite, ’54.” She accepted the glass, drank it, and raised the glass and brought it down sharply against the coffee table, smashing it, and leaving her with a shard of glass in her hand. Small cuts crisscrossed the edge of her hand.

Operations turned in surprise, as Madeline held the sharpened edge to his throat. “No more games,” she said, her mouth next to his ear.

Moving his head slightly, he brought his mouth to hers, kissing her and biting her lower lip. “Who’s playing games?” he asked, drawing blood.

Madeline tasted her own blood and nicked Operation’s neck with the glass, a small tear shaped droplet oozing from the cut. She brought her finger to the lash, dampened her finger with his blood, and traced it on his lips. She moved to kiss him and said, “Only fair.”

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Replies:

  • Part 42 - sex, violence, language - but a short part -- Repost Fairy, 15:38:44 05/03/02 Fri
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