Edge of Tomorrow (24 page)

“Are you a shrink, too, Doctor?”

“No, but I’m a good listener, just like
you.”

“You know, this is very personal, but somehow
I feel it’s time to talk about it. But only to you. This has to be
doctor/patient confidentiality, all right?”

“My lips are sealed,” she smiled.

“And beautiful lips they are. When I was in
the CIA, I had a job similar to the one you had in the MOSSAD. I
was an assassin with No Official Cover.”

“A NOC? I assumed you were an analyst,” she
lied.

“Just for a while. Anyway, I was in West
Berlin in 1984 doing an R & R stint, when I met this Stasi
agent, Katerina Klaus. Klaus Haus is named in her honor. She was a
petite, blonde sweetheart, and very beautiful, of course. She
taught me a lot about what was wrong with my life back then. Within
two weeks, I was madly in love with her, enemy agent and all. Is
that possible, Syd? Lose your soul and heart in two weeks?”

“I don’t know, Hatch. I’ve heard about
it, but never experienced it.
Not
yet
,” she answered, caressing his hand.

“To make a long story short, months later we
discovered that she was pregnant with my child, so I was going to
take her out of Germany, marry her, and live happily ever
after—like a fairy tale. It was all arranged with my bosses in the
CIA. But they betrayed us. They didn’t want me to quit, so they
told the Stasi about the defection. A Stasi assassin was there and
he killed her. I killed a whole bunch of people over that, just as
you did avenging your parents’ deaths.”

He paused and sipped his coffee, using the
hand she was not holding. He did not want to let go of her.

“It sounds like you’re still feeling pain,
and probably some guilt. So am I. Talking about it helped me, maybe
it will help you,” she said, stroking his hand between both of
hers.

“I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve
been afraid to get close to a woman—you know, a real
relationship—ever since. My life has been a string of
one-night-stands. As soon as I start caring too much, I have to
stop the relationship. I’m really screwed up, Syd,” he said
quietly.

“I think you’re blaming yourself for
Katerina’s death. You’re afraid that if you let yourself love a
woman, she will die. That’s nonsense and you know it. Katerina
didn’t die because you loved her. Let it go, Hatch! Give yourself
permission to love again. That’s what Katerina would want you to
do,” responded Syd in a whisper.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“Tell me about her, Hatch. Tell me about your
passion, and your grief,” she finally whispered.

Hatch did. He told her the entire story of
those glorious months before the tragedy: the singing, trying to
seduce her shamelessly, the ice skating, the dressing down she gave
him, the petting, the fabulous love making later. How she changed
him from a cold assassin to a caring human being again. His eyes
were moist when he finished.

“That is a beautiful love story, Hatch. I’m
so sorry about Kat and your child. I wish I could have met her. She
sounds very special. Do you ever see her mother and sister? It was
very compassionate of you to make sure they were rescued,” asked
Syd.

“No. Bob Hatcher died with Kat. It must stay
that way. I do make sure they are well-taken care of.”

Hatch paid the bill and they walked
hand-in-hand to the Cadillac. When they reached it, he opened the
passenger door for her. She turned toward him before entering the
car.

“I feel better, how about you?” she
asked.

“Much better, Doc. Come here, I need a hug,”
he answered, taking her into his arms. She did not resist, but
hugged him back. He had not felt this good in years: it was as if a
weight had been removed from his shoulders. He felt her body hard
against the entire length of his and did not want to let her go.
She pushed her body hard against him, an involuntary action, as if
her body was taking charge of events. She loved the feel of her
breasts against his chest, their thighs pressed together. She
wondered what he was feeling. She knew that if she did not break
this embrace, she would drag him into the back seat of the car and
rip her clothes off. She could not let that happen, not now. She
had to control her horny hormones! She wanted to explore the
possibilities of a relationship with this man first, not settle for
a quickie—as tempting as it was.

She broke the embrace, and kissed him on the
cheek.

“I think we have a plane to catch, big
guy.”

“Yes, we do, Dr. Z.”

• • •

Triple Eye had several corporate jets, and
the best of the fleet—Hatch’s personal aircraft—was a Gulf Stream
V. It was one of the world’s best ultra long-range business jets
with a range of 6,500 nautical miles at a speed of .8 Mach, close
to the speed of sound. It could take off in less than 6000 feet,
and land in 3,170 feet. Its maximum cruising altitude was 51,000
feet, nearly ten miles high. This particular aircraft, like all of
Triple Eye’s aircraft, had been heavily modified to suit Hatch’s
requirements. These modifications included two large restrooms, the
Toy Master’s latest Global Positioning System (GPS), his latest
satellite communications system, and an advanced
Navigation/Communication center in the main cabin. The NAV/COMM
Center had the capability of being linked to the systems of any
other aircraft, including the Shadow choppers, so any actions going
on in the world could be monitored.

The main cabin had been reconfigured—in
addition to adding the NAV/COMM Center—with ten large, reclining
sleeper seats instead of the normal 13 to 19 seats in standard
configurations. This left room for a small galley and lounge area
for people to sit and eat, drink, and make merry if they were so
inclined. Hatch insisted on a crew of four on long flights: three
pilots and a flight attendant. Hatch was also qualified to fly the
aircraft, if necessary, and did so often to keep his skills
current.

At 5:30 P.M., when the aircraft leveled off
at its cruising altitude of 45,000 feet, Hatch undid his safety
belt and walked to the lounge area, motioning for Sara and Syd to
join him. The three of them had packed travel bags when Syd and
Hatch had returned from lunch, and then had been flown to Miami
Airport in the Bell 430. Syd had thought that the chopper had been
plush until she saw the interior of the GS-V. It was unlike any
airliner she had ever flown in.

When they settled into the chairs in the
lounge, the flight attendant took their drink orders and went to
the wet bar in the galley to prepare them. She was Janet Corbin, a
35-year-old ex-airline stewardess; she was a pleasant-looking
blonde, 5' 6" tall, with a thin body.

“This plane is awesome, Hatch! I’ve never
seen anything quite like it,” observed Syd.

“I travel a lot, and I might as well be
comfortable while doing it. I spend a lot of time in this beast,”
he responded.

Syd looked toward the rear of the cabin where
the two terrorists were each handcuffed to their seats, one on each
side of the aircraft.

“I haven’t heard a peep out of those bozos so
far,” she said.

“We gave them something to relax them,”
laughed Sara.

“No bodyguard for them?” queried Syd.

“With Sara and Dr. Z. on board, who needs a
bodyguard? That would be overkill,” laughed Hatch. “They’re still
afraid you are going to slice and dice them, Syd.”

“I’d like to. Any way of dumping body parts
out of this plane?” she chortled.

“That’s a mod I didn’t think of,” he
smiled.

“Maybe I can just castrate them,” added
Syd.

Janet brought their drinks and placed them on
small paper coasters which were imprinted with the Triple Eye logo,
along with a large bowl of Macadamia nuts.

“Thanks, Janet. I didn’t get a chance to
introduce Syd to you before takeoff. Syd Steppe, Janet Corbin,”
said Hatch.

“Hi, Janet. This must be easier work than a
jumbo jet loaded to capacity,” laughed Syd, extending her hand to
Janet.

“Nothing beats this job, Syd. You guys let me
know if I can do anything for you. I’m going to take some coffee to
the cockpit, but I’ll be right back,” she replied with enthusiasm.
She returned to her small galley and began preparing a tray for the
pilots.

“Well, ladies, here’s to a successful
mission,” Hatch said, raising his glass. The three clinked
glasses.

Sara took a handful of Macadamia nuts and
remarked, “It wouldn’t be a flight without nuts.”

“At least they’re expensive ones,” countered
Hatch.

“How long is this trip?” asked Syd.

“A little over eleven hours. We’ll get there
about noon, Israeli time. After cocktail hour, we’ll get some
dinner and then we should get some sack time. I don’t know about
you, Sara, but I’m bushed. Neither of us got much sleep last
night,” he answered.

“God! Was that only last night?
This
has
been a long day!”
exclaimed Sara. “You told me how it went with the cops on the
chopper ride, which is great, but how was your lunch,
Syd?”

Syd would have kicked her if she could have
done it without Hatch seeing her do it. Sara had winked at her, and
had a silly grin on her face.

Who do you think you are, Sara? Miss
Matchmaker 2001? It went better than I could have hoped! Stop
trying to embarrass me!

“We had a lovely lunch, thank you,” Syd
responded, hoping Sara would drop the subject.

“Yes, we did. We had a splendid lunch!” said
Hatch. “Syd is a great conversationalist. Which reminds me, Syd.
When Janet feeds our guests, I would appreciate it if you’d go and
tell them their choices for dinner. And remind them to behave!
Their English is terrible, unless they’re faking it. But you have a
way with them; they really fear you.”

Thank you, Hatch! Just cool it, Sara! I’ll
tell you what I can later, when we’re alone. I can’t tell you the
best part, because I’m sworn to secrecy!

“Yes, I’ll take care of them. Are we going to
have trouble with Israeli Customs?” asked Syd, redirecting the
subject once again.

“No problem. Uri has it handled. We’ll taxi
to a hangar he has readied for us. Then he’ll take charge of our
prisoners. After that, Custom Officials will appear and stamp our
travel documents. As soon as the plane is refueled, we’ll head for
Istanbul—Ataturk International—and to our estate where Shadow-3 is
housed,” he answered.

Sara chimed in, “Do we know where in Iran the
Wrath headquarters site is yet?”

“No, but Uri does. He will give us a folder
with all the info he has when we land. Then we will use our
satellite system to build a 3-D model of the area, and Syd can
guide us through the best way to attack the target.”

“Me?” asked Syd.

“Yes. You might even know the area once we
find out exactly where it is. And you know their habits. I want to
hit them when the most number of them are present,” explained
Hatch. “I especially want the queen bee, Hamad.”

“I hope Uri has some pictures for us. How
good a look can we get from Shadow-3 when we’re over the target?”
asked Syd.

“We can count their pimples,” laughed
Sara.

“Good! Maybe we can determine when Hamad is
there,” mused Syd. “We have to get him, or he will just keep
putting hits out on me.”

“I don’t want to be in Iranian airspace for
very long, so we’ll use our satellites to get a handle on things
before we go in. The satellite optics are good to an inch or two,”
he said. “That should be more than enough resolution, right?”

They all laughed at that, sipped on their
drinks, and chomped on expensive nuts.

• • •

After Janet had cleared away their dinner
dishes, Hatch went over to the handcuffed Iranians and checked them
over. Earlier, he had escorted them one at a time to the toilet,
then they had been fed. They were now asleep, thanks to the
knockout drops he had Janet put in their food.

“They should sleep the rest of the way,” he
said as he came back to the women in the lounge. “I don’t know
about you, sweet things, but I’m ready to get some sleep before I
drop. At least a little bit. I’ll take the seat in front of the guy
on the starboard side.”

“I’ll take the one across the aisle from you,
so we’ll be near if they wake up and try anything,” said Sara,
moving toward her sleeper chair. She reached into an overhead
compartment and retrieved a pillow and blanket. Syd went to her
duffel bag and retrieved her gray sweats, her travel case, and a
paperback book.

“I’m going to change into something more
comfortable and read for a while. I got more sleep than you two did
last night. I’ll keep an eye on the prisoners,” said Syd.
“Goodnight, you two. I’ll use this chair up front so my reading
light won’t disturb you.”

She made her way to one of the restrooms and
entered it. There was more room than in an airliner toilet. She
took off her shoes, socks, jeans, and tee shirt. She pulled on her
sweat pants, then rubbed her breasts, which were aching.

You girls have been harnessed long enough
today. I’m going to set you free! And I need to switch brands on my
bras. This one is a bitch! I should have brought the ones Mrs. C.
bought me and tried them out.

She took off her bra and hung it under the
tee shirt on the hook with her jeans. She massaged her breasts for
a moment, then pulled on her sweat shirt. She opened her travel
case, took out her toothpaste and toothbrush, then brushed her
teeth. She brushed her hair for fifty strokes, then pulled it into
a pony tail, which she secured with a rubber band. After washing
the makeup off her face, she rubbed in a moisturizer. She looked at
herself in the small mirror.

Well, Syd, the man hugged you today. What
will he say when he sees you looking like this? Hopefully, he’ll be
asleep and I can get up before him and get some makeup on in the
morning.