The Journey of Rick Heiden - Chapters 3 and 4
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This novel contains 50 CHAPTERS, and every post will have 2 chapters each.
CHAPTER THREE
I won't provide the precise location of the building because I'm not one to cause trouble. Suffice it to say, David had taken me to East London.
When the cab arrived, we climbed in and told the cabbie where we wanted to go. I asked David, "Can we now talk about the situation?"
He shook his head and said, "Not here." He gestured to the divider between the front and back seats of the cab. "Don't let the acrylic fool you; conversations in cabs have no privacy."
"You're kidding."
"I wish."
I had no idea the invasion of privacy had reached that extent. Everyone knew of the ubiquitous CCTV cameras and the selective mobile phone spying, which seemed invasive enough--after all, carrying a mobile was voluntary, and one could switch it off. However, the possibility of listening devices in cabs was crossing a line.
"If you know these things," I said, "what else is happening behind our backs?"
"You name it, they're doing it, and that's scratching the surface. As well as spying on us--at a scope that would make the former Soviet Union's KGB network of watchful eyes seem innocent--the humans on this planet are experiencing, indoctrination, manipulation, intellectual suppression, oppression, repression, enslavement, domination, bodily contamination, narcotization, and infantilization the world over. It's been going on for centuries."
"Infantilization...," I said in disbelief. "Okay, okay, for the sake of argument, let us suggest all that's true. Why would we put up with that? Wouldn't we have revolted by now?"
"We believe," he said, "and at the risk of using a trite Greek metaphor, once Pandora opened the box, nothing could ever undo it."
"I know that story," I said. "When she released all the evils of the world, hope remained. Don't we always have hope?"
"That would depend on how you use it. I contend that there's a difference between living 'in' hope and living 'on' it. A healthy sense of hope is to live in anticipation of something desired, but to live 'on' hope is something else entirely." He thought for a moment. "Let me tell you how my world works, to give you something more than the only thing you've ever known, as a comparison. In my world, for something to serve us, it must serve both the individual and collective humanity at the same time. With that in mind, we have those things and actions that serve us or those things and actions that do not serve us. This principle has allowed us fairness and objectivity. In my world, we live and think in complete freedom with reason, knowledge, integrity, and discipline as our guides. We seek harmony, greater knowledge, and peace. After centuries of effort, we have no sickness, no war, no poverty, and no crime. To live 'on' hope," he said, "is the illusion that, in the future, things will get better without focusing on how to get to where you say you want to go and expending the energy to get there. It's leaving the work for others, or to luck. In my world, we don't live 'on' hope; we act.
"In contrast, and globally speaking, the people here have grown into a myriad of disparate micro-cultures. They don't see themselves as one people. Humans here, with few exceptions, have classified and divided themselves into man-made contrivances like races, ethnicities, nations, and religions. They divide themselves further with knowledge, money, and power, into the dichotomy of the haves and the have-nots. This kind of discord perpetuates itself. It's the source of human misery and never-ending struggle. Is it any wonder that diversion is the greatest human pastime? So, do they have hope here? Sure, they have plenty, but I would suggest that since living 'on' hope is so common here, it's all that the people of this world have."
It stunned me. "Where DO you come from?" I asked him.
He looked at me and shook his head a little. "Not here."
He had given me too vague an answer, but I decided I probably would find out where he came from soon enough. He couldn't or wouldn't tell me. As for his views, I found it too devastating to think of them as accurate, but I identified with some of them. I admit having had a sense of bewilderment for how to fix the problems I saw. I had often lived 'on' hope, and I had sought diversion. No one could tackle such a complicated issue alone. So, small wonder that humanity chose distractions as the preferred method of not dealing with them. People have opposing ideas and beliefs. People pull issues in too many directions. Wouldn't that come as an expression of freedom, or had that resulted from the manipulation he mentioned? Did we have the means to ensure fairness and objectivity? If we thought we did, even a cursory glance revealed evidence that it wasn't working.
The bright, open space of The Tea Room had beautiful tables, fancy tablecloths, and gleaming tableware. Also, it had a few private parlors in high demand, one of which I had reserved for one o'clock. The cab arrived at 1:13. Maggie held our salon for us, and I noted she had changed to a lovely 1930s French style, taupe-colored tea dress.
Of course, we had our customary hug upon arrival. David also complimented her on her appearance and introduced himself--appropriately this time. Our surroundings cultivated a delightful genteelness while ordering and waiting for the staff to bring our tea. However, Maggie and I could get a bit spirited when we discussed things, and I knew we would soon get into it.
Maggie turned her perturbed visage upon me, and the instant the door snapped shut behind the wait staff, she expressed her deep disappointment most indiscreetly. "You can't tell me what happened? Pourquoi(Why)?"
I tried to moderate my tone so she would do likewise. "Because my dear, I signed a rather persuasive non-disclosure agreement. I don't want to go to prison. That's pourquoi."
"Ugh. I might have known," said Maggie, and paused to think about it as she poured the tea. "In your case, as an asylee, if they decided to deport you back to the United States, it would lead to the same thing."
I adored that I could reason with Maggie, and she was right. If they sent me back, the U.S. government would arrest me for crimes against their god. Of course, I never believed in their authoritarian nonsense, but I could not underestimate them, even if it sounded like a joke.
During our light luncheon, Maggie spoke. "So, David," she said, stirring her tea, "what have you to say for yourself?"
David raised his eyebrows over the teacup from which he was sipping, "Me? What have I done?"
"I will not have anyone causing a rift between Rick and myself," she teased. "You already have him keeping secrets from me. Who knows what might be next?"
"Well...I do have something to tell you both," David said, placing his empty sandwich plate and teacup onto the table between us.
I lowered my cup to its saucer. "Oh? Anything for which the British Government has yet to make me 'privy', or I haven't 'intuited'?" I rolled my eyes.
A smile bloomed on his face, "I must use the loo," he said, rising. "Please, excuse me."
"Cheeky," Maggie said as David left the room.
The instant he disappeared through the door, and it snapped shut, Maggie pelted me with questions. "Can you not tell me? You haven't played a joke on me, have you? Have the two of you had sex without telling me?"
"I must answer those questions with a resounding no. However, as odd as it sounds, David has asked me to go away with him."
"Aller ou?(Go where?)" she asked.
"Once again, il ne m'a pas dit(he did not tell me.)"
Maggie sighed. "Il est tres beau. Je ne vous reprocherais pas si vous l'aviez fait.(He's very handsome. I would not blame you if you did.)"
Maggie was a dear, but at that point, I couldn't think about leaving. I had too many unanswered questions.
A few minutes later, David returned to his seat. Maggie and I watched him pour a fresh cup. He picked it up, brooded upon the murky substance, studying its contents. He closed his eyes, inhaling the steam wafting upward, and only then did he take a sip.
"We wouldn't poison your cup in your absence," I said.
He smiled. "I never believed you had."
"So, what do your tea leaves say?" I asked him.
He glanced down into the cup. "Most likely, they say nothing. It's just that this may well be the last cup of tea I ever have." He sighed. "I will miss this."
"You keep hinting about where you live," I said. "Have they no tea there?"
"When people grow food," he said, "they do so with sustenance, calories, and nutritional value in mind. We grow tea for its flavor and its caffeinated verve. Like any other plant, varieties of camellia sinensis will grow where they will, and we got ours to grow, but the tea tasted dreadful--something in the soil, no doubt." He drank the last from his cup.
"It's 1:58," said Maggie. "Didn't you reserve this room for an hour?"
"Have we reached two o'clock already? Oh damn, I have yet to grill David."
"I knew you wanted to," he said. "Maggie, why don't you join us at Rick's flat. I have something to discuss with you both."
I swear he went out of his way to infuriate me. A hint here, a delay there, I was growing weary of it. I have always appreciated directness. If he intended to remain in my company, he needed to learn that. We rose to go, and David kindly paid the bill. Maggie and I excused ourselves for a trip to the lavatory. One should do so when the opportunity presents itself.
"Do you think this place has a nice ladies powder room?" she asked.
"I should think so," I said. "If it does, I'll enjoy hearing about it. I'll let you know about mine, but I don't expect much."
They located their lavatories in the back near a nook. As we turned the corner, we happened upon a man in a chair blocking the rear exit and the path to the lavatories. I noted he spoke on his mobile with an American accent. He, at least, seemed considerate enough to leave his table rather than annoy patrons with a phone call.
As washrooms go, the lavatory was dull. More women came to The Tea Room than men, so I suspected they took more trouble for the ladies. The restroom had no lock on the outer door because it contained an individual stall and a urinal. I had finished my business and proceeded to wash my hands, as one should, unaware of the goings-on behind me, the white noise of the tap water masked sounds I might otherwise have noticed. When I looked up into the mirror, a man stood right behind me and held a syringe at my neck. Before I could react, I felt the sting of the needle penetrating my neck, and he covered my head in a black bag. I sensed a strange smell and felt my body go limp as he dragged me out. Mentally incapacitated, I hadn't cared that he picked my jacket pocket or that I had become the subject of the scuffling that occurred, and rather rapidly, I fell unconscious.
He had wasted his time doping me; I wouldn't have put up much fuss had he simply threatened me. What could I do? I couldn't fight; my parents and culture had left me an easy target.
As my consciousness began reasserting itself, I had no idea of my location or how long I remained unconscious. My captors kept the echoey room in darkness, except for me, where the beam's brightness burned my drug dilated eyes. My abductors had bound me with zip ties to a wooden chair. I could only see well enough to notice they had dirtied and crumpled my suit, which displeased me. However, the situation hadn't scared me as it should have. I felt a bit disconnected from what was going on around me. I could have chalked that up to the drug they gave me, maybe because the circumstance seemed unbelievable, or perhaps my shock tolerance had reached its peak level.
Beyond the light searing my retinas, I heard a faint voice that sounded like it said, "Hey, he's awake." My interpreter's ears heard just enough to know the voice belonged to the American who blocked our path to the lavatory at The Tea Room. The vague memory of his face passed through my mind just before he placed the hood over my head.
Feeling more bravado than usual, I underestimated my captors. "You kidnapped me in broad daylight?" I asked in a loud voice. "I know at least one of you are American, last seen wearing an ugly, cheap, dark blue sack suit talking on his cell phone. You look like an IRS agent. Have you come for a greater percentage of my income in lieu of prison?"
"That's funny," said another man with an American accent, "but I wouldn't do that. He gave you too much in the injection. He's shown lots of patience waiting for you to wake up, but I can tell it's worn thin."
I only thought about it for a second and decided to change tactics. I should cooperate. I took a deep breath and altered my tone. "What do you want?"
"That's better," he said. "Among other things, he wants the location of the portal."
"Portal...," I said. "What's that?"
A dark shadow crossed in front of me, and an open palm slapped me so hard on the left cheek it felt like I'd performed a belly flop on my face. The pain was excruciating. If I survived the night, I figured I would have a giant red handprint on my cheek for days.
"He struck you open-fisted," the man said, "he won't go easy on you again. Consider the consequence of your next words. Where is the portal?"
The slap must have kicked started my brain into overdrive because an idea came to me. The guy wouldn't believe I knew nothing about it, so I decided to pretend to know more about it than they did. "It doesn't exist," I said.
"What do you mean?" the man asked.
"It's mole fodder. Don't you get it? The fact that you even know about the portal proves there's a mole, but it doesn't exist. It's a ruse!"
For about two minutes, I heard text messages sent and received.
"That can't be true. Who told you that?" the man asked me.
"Mr. Haywood," I said, unsure whether I remembered the name of the director of MI5 from the meeting that morning. That's when the dark shadow crossed me once again, and I closed my eyes bracing for the impact that I knew was coming.
A strange noise like a short, sharp chirp sounded, and the man preparing to make a fist-sized dent in my face lay at my feet. Another chirp followed, and the man who spoke to me ran for his life.
As I heard a door slam and the squeal of tires, a laugh erupted from the darkness behind me. "A mole! I must say, that is clever. Funnily enough, though, you could be right. They heard about the portal somehow."
I felt relief to hear David's voice, but also a bit euphoric. He came from behind to cut me loose.
"I'm sorry it took so long to find you. I've had several complications."
How did you find me?" I asked.
He reached into the pocket of my waistcoat and unstuck a small, coin-like object. "When I told you this morning, I needed to keep you close; I slipped this into your pocket." He looked at the disk. "It's old technology. However," he held up a kind of pistol, "this little lifesaver, on the other hand," he said, smiling at his joke, "is at least a thousand years more advanced." With that, he tucked the pistol back into the holster inside his jacket.
Nothing he said surprised me anymore. It hadn't mattered that it should sound fantastical or implausible. I knew he wasn't lying. And while I hadn't cultivated a fondness for guns, I admit, it impressed me. He held a beautiful, sleek-looking weapon, in its niobium blue and black.
I gazed down at the man on the floor with a hole burned into his chest. David had stopped him from causing me severe injury or worse. "Is he dead?"
"Yes, he is," he said, donning a pair of vinyl gloves from his pocket. David's confidence and coolheadedness mesmerized me. He sifted through the man's pockets and wallet, "His Virginia driver's license says his name is Theodore Roberts and lived in Alexandria. He has a credit card, a few business cards for a plumber, 180£, a $50 bill, and a slip of paper with a name and phone number on it. I'll take that bit." He put the paper into his pocket and the wallet back into the man's trousers. For the mobile, he used the man's thumb to unlock it and checked his recent calls. "Hmm," he said.
"Anything interesting?"
"Yes, quite interesting." David used his mobile to take a video of the man's recent call history, email, contacts, and a few other places. Once satisfied, he obtained everything pertinent from it; he relocked the phone and returned it to the man's jacket.
"Have you learned anything?" I asked.
He rose while removing the gloves, "He's hired muscle, but I suspect he's a contract killer. I'll tell you about that later. It's most interesting." He rotated the light to where the two men sat. It illuminated a table and chairs. He moved to the table, and I followed, watching him, wanting to miss nothing.
On the table lay an odd piece of paper with the words, "That can't be true. Who told you that?" written on it. Near that, David found- "Ah-ha! Your mobile," he said. "Oh good, they haven't broken it." He inspected the phone and held it out to me. "Here you go. There's no tampering. They just turned it off, so I couldn't track them with its GPS."
Distracted, I took hold of it. "I'm so happy to see you; I could kiss you." We stood there a long moment staring at one another, both of us holding opposite ends of my mobile.
"I won't stop you," he said.
So, I kissed him our first kiss, and not a mere peck either. When it ended, I noted my swollen cheek still hurt and felt hot to the touch. He took me by the hand and pulled me away from the scene.
I should have guessed from the darkness inside the building, but the sun had set hours ago. They had taken me to a warehouse near the Barking Creek Barrier. This one, they had shut for the weekend and contained some storage. I asked him whether we should do anything about the body, and he said we shouldn't bother.
"Let the authorities have him. Once they do some digging, they'll be glad he's dead."
David told me that he had taken Maggie to his home for safety. I called her, and I could hear the relief in her voice.
We walked to where he'd left the Jaguar and drove away. I had never ridden in the front seat of a vehicle in England. The often-insane traffic in London and the idea of driving on the left side terrified me, so I rode in the back of cabs. The unusual experience of sitting in the left seat, sans steering wheel, gave me the uncomfortable sensation of having nothing to do with my arms.
David enjoyed having me to himself to talk more openly. "May I ask you something?" he asked, as we traveled into the darkness between streetlamps.
"Please do," I said.
"Have you given any thought to whether you would be willing to come to my real home? I wouldn't want to push you into anything. I suppose just I want to know that you're thinking about it."
"I've mulled it over," I said, "but I think you've skipped a step. You haven't enlightened me as to where you live. I've heard nothing but hints and euphemisms since we met."
"Oh, of course. Please, accept my apologies. I have grown accustomed to keeping it secret. I find it difficult to speak the words."
"When you said, `my world' earlier, you meant that in a literal sense. You're not from this world."
"No, I am from this world," he said, "but this world is no longer my home."
"The portal those men wanted exists then."
"Yes."
"Where do you live?"
"We don't know," he said. "It resides in this galaxy; we know that. It's a planet with more mass than the Earth. It revolves around another star and has a night sky as dissimilar in appearance from this one as the Earth is to the Moon."
"Tell me about it."
"It has mountains, valleys, rivers, and many vast seas. It's filled with plant life, some of which we grew from seeds brought from here. Humans are the only recognizable animal species living there. We had a substantial human population when I left, close to 3 million people."
"And until now, your people maintained a well-kept secret."
"Until now," he said.
"The situation is bad, isn't it?"
"Cadmar's body has enough technology to devastate the political and social power structures of this planet. I think `bad' would understate it. And believe me, if we fail to retrieve his body, it will end up in the hands of selfish, greedy, ruthless, power-hungry people."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"Because the American government has involved itself."
CHAPTER FOUR
It took thirty-five minutes to arrive at David's home-away-from-home near Trafalgar Square, the likes of which deviated from my expectations. David lived in the penthouse suite of a fantastic hotel and had done so for ten years.
The spacious suite had many windows with splendid views, contemporary modern furniture filling the room, a dark maple dining table for six to the left, and a king-size bed toward the front of the building overlooking the best view, along with the balcony. I couldn't see the bathroom, but I would need it soon enough. It had many amenities one would find in a home, but its lack of a stovetop and oven disqualified the space as a flat.
"You live here?" I looked about the lavish suite to find Maggie on the couch, glass in hand, and a bottle of wine on the coffee table.
"Rick!" Maggie ran to me for her customary hug. She gasped. "Qu'est-ce qu'ils vous ont fait?(What did they do to you?)" She lightly touched my cheek. "I'm so glad you're okay." Maggie kept hugging me, but I just wanted to sit down.
"I have no wish to sound pretentious," said David, "but this place is an expensive dump. My real home is far superior. I'll get you some ice, Rick. Is either of you hungry? I can order room service."
Maggie and I were starving; tea and tiny sandwiches would only take someone so far.
"You think this is a dump?" I asked David.
"I would live in this dump any day," Maggie said, smirking.
"The furnishings I accept as typical of hotels," he said, "but I'm referring to the building structure and the lack of attention to detail. I would cringe with embarrassment if I built or owned this building. I know it sounds like I'm a snob, but if you live someplace long enough, you'll notice every single flaw."
I shrugged. "It looks like all the other buildings I've seen."
"No doubt," he said, "it's a sad state of the industry." He handed me the bag of ice.
We ordered dinner and sat in the living room. "Okay, let's get to business," I said, holding the ice bag to my cheek. "What happened after I disappeared?"
David insisted Maggie begin. "I had heard some noise in the hallway, but by the time I could investigate, it had stopped. I waited a couple of minutes for you, and then David came around the corner."
"I searched the building but couldn't find you," said David. "I called your mobile; it went straight to voicemail. You would not have left, so someone had to abduct you. I brought Maggie here in a taxi, just in case. With difficulty, I requisitioned a government vehicle and drove all over London searching for you. The tracer doesn't have a strong signal, so I had to get near you before it would register. I drove for several hours, growing more alarmed that I had no signal, but then I had an indicator on the tracer near the city airport. I kept driving and followed the blinking light until I reached you. I feel lucky to have found you at all."
"How long were you there before you shot that man?"
Maggie gasped, glaring at David. "You shot someone?"
"I moved into position just after he slapped you."
"It's okay Maggie, David saved me from a severe injury."
"The man was a brute; one punch might have killed Rick."
"Well, what did he want?" she asked.
I looked at David, not knowing what to say. Would David want to keep the portal secret from Maggie?
"He wanted the location of the portal," he said, "but Rick doesn't have that information."
What portal?" she asked.
"The portal will take you to Jiyu, my homeworld, around another star somewhere in this galaxy."
She turned to me with suspicion. "Is this British humor?"
Once dinner arrived, we ate at the dining table while David told Maggie the whole story, and omitted nothing, non-disclosure agreements be damned. David said the secret belonged to his people. No government had the right to co-opt it, mark it as their private property, and silence anyone with a gag order. They were interfering and making things difficult.
The conversation returned to the abduction. "It concerns me that the man I shot, Theo Roberts, had Clement O'Byrne as one of his contacts, and had received a call from O'Byrne only two days ago."
"Who's Clement O'Byrne?" I asked.
"O'Byrne is known as Lefty Handler, something he would deny," said David. "He is one-stop-shopping for criminal activity, as a heavy, a fixer, an assassin, whatever you need. O'Byrne used to take a more active role, but these days he sub-contracts others to do it for him, and he keeps his hands clean, so they can never arrest him. If Lefty is involved, then the American government hired him. It always had corruption, but since the dominionists came to power, it's gotten worse."
"Can we know the name of the man who got away?" I asked him.
David shrugged. "Theo may have the contact information on his mobile."
"What about the name on the slip of paper?"
David shook his head. "He didn't sound like a Helen to me."
I laughed. "I wouldn't think so. Will you call that number?"
"I was thinking about it, but that could cause trouble. I would prefer to know who owns the number first," David said. "I need to check it with the reverse directory."
The three of us sat on the balcony that overlooked an incredible view of the Thames for several hours and made proposals of what we could do to recover Cadmar's body. David said that the British government held many sites, but he hadn't known them all. They would require an autopsy laboratory and a body freezer. The location where they held Amarae had no such equipment. The government had an autopsy lab they used often, the main one everyone knew of, but that made them less likely to store it there. If they refused us permission to view Cadmar's body, or some other means hadn't presented itself, they had us stymied.
By 11:30 that night, we all felt exhausted. I hadn't blamed Maggie when she wanted to go home to sleep, and with the slim possibility of danger to her, David sent her home, paying the cab fare. I wasn't that lucky; they might know where I lived, so I couldn't go home no matter how much I wanted fresh clothes.
After we saw Maggie off, David hugged me for several minutes inside the door of the penthouse and whispered. "I've tried to understand why they abducted you."
"Any ideas?"
"They knew better than to kidnap me. Perhaps, they asked you on the off chance I told you. They would want the portal, but they would also want Cadmar's body, maybe they abducted you for leverage, to coerce me into obtaining it for them. I might have had an unpleasant phone call from them if I hadn't paid a call on them first. We kept our dating as rather cordial and low-key, but someone may know my feelings for you. How could they have known that?"
"You pretty much told me in the lab," I said, "what if it has a monitor?"
"No one monitors the room," he said. "Of course, that wouldn't mean someone wasn't listening."
"You hadn't mentioned the portal to me," I said. "How would the talking man know about it?"
"I don't know. We have nothing but speculation, not enough information."
I needed to clean up. After David gave me some soap and a toothbrush, he offered some of his clothes to wear on the way to the flat the next morning.
They had encompassed his bathroom in various dated and unattractive shades of blue ceramic. I saw a dozen or so cracked floor tiles. The builders left grout haze on the upper wall, which detracted from the entire bathroom's appearance. They installed the glass surround for the shower at an odd angle, and someone in the cleaning staff had used an abrasive on every tap, leaving them terribly scratched. I began to see why David referred to the place as an expensive dump.
When the time came for sleeping arrangements, David made a considerate and generous offer of the bed, while he slept on the couch like a proper gentleman. However, I felt that it made little sense for him to remain a gentleman the entire evening.
Displaying a bare muscular torso and wearing a pair of pull-on shorts like those he loaned me, he said goodnight on his way to the couch from the bathroom. As he passed where I sat on the bed, I grabbed his hand. "The living room is too far. What if someone scales the balcony and carries me off in your sleep?"
"Then I would save you again," he said without a hint of a smile. He waited there staring me in the eye for a moment. The dim light cast shadows on his handsome face and beautiful body, but the muscles of his torso couldn't compare to the thighs bulging from under his shorts. I stood and pulled him to me by his hand.
He wrapped his arms around me, but his eyes never left mine. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you," I said.
"What does that mean?"
"I want to be with you."
"You are with me. I'm right here."
"Must I spell it out?" I asked, smiling.
"No, but this is a big step for you, and I never do one-nighters. How do I know you're ready?"
"Are you ready for this?" I asked.
"That depends on you," he said, but if we do this, we're mated; we belong together, and there's no going back."
"I want to be your mate. I want to be with you."
He held me close. "Permanently?" he asked. "I don't play around. This is a commitment that I take seriously."
"Permanently," I said. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."
He kissed me and laid me back on the bed. He removed my shorts and his own. I saw him naked for the first time. It looked the same as my six-inch cut cock, but it had a larger knob. It certainly looked more than a mouthful.
He sucked mine for a few minutes ensuring not to make me cum yet. "You taste good," he said.
"I don't want to cum," I said. "I like to not cum."
"Why?"
"It keeps my motor running hot."
"You enjoy feeling horny all the time? Interesting. How about I rev your engine for you?"
He flipped me over urging me toward the headboard. He lay behind me on the bed and dug his face into my ass. I arched my back giving him as much access as he wanted. His tongue stimulating me for what I knew would come next. He would want to fuck me, and that's what I wanted most; it had been so long. He kept his face at my hole for half an hour.
"I think you're ready," he said. Right behind me, he pulled me up to my hands and knees. He tapped his cock on my saliva-soaked hole. "Do you want this?"
"Yes."
"Last chance to back out. Once it goes in, it's not coming out until I breed you, and there's no turning back. We're mated, and it can't be undone. Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes," I said. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm already your mate."
He pushed his cock in, and I hadn't fucked in years. He stretched me, and I could feel the head of his cock. Once he settled in all the way, he began to fuck me slowly with an ever-increasing pace, and then fucked me as hard as he wanted. He drew back to the enlarged head and rammed it back into me repeatedly, fucking me for longer than anyone else had. He pushed me forward onto my stomach and followed me down laying atop my back. His weight and muscles felt so good as he continued. I felt lost in the pleasure he gave me for I don't know how long. He wrapped his arms around my torso and held my shoulders for leverage as he thrust into me, and I could hear his rapid breathing in my ear.
"I'm about to breed you," he said, "and we will be mated."
He thrust into me one last time and held it there. I could feel the head expand further as he filled me. When he finished, his arms still wrapped around me, he turned us onto our sides, his cock slipping from me.
"I don't want to wear you out the first night," he said. "It will become easier from this point."
"I love you," I said.
"I knew that a week ago. That's why I chose you for my mate."
"Will it always be like this?" I asked his hot breath on my neck.
"No, it will be much better," he said. "We're just getting started." He kissed me.
"When we get to Jiyu-"
"Hush," he whispered into my ear, "you should sleep now."
The next morning the sun rose, and my sleep-deprived eyes hadn't liked it one bit. Even with the curtains closed, the penthouse had so many windows I would have found it impossible to sleep without a mask. David lay next to me on the crisp white sheets, and their temperature had reached that cozy I-don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed level of comfort.
My experience of David seemed --I don't know-- unbelievable, maybe. Things felt right with me for the first time. I hadn't known where David would take me, but I knew then, I would go with him anywhere.
He called down the previous evening to order breakfast that morning while I scrubbed at the grime acquired during the abduction. Breakfast came promptly at seven o'clock in the morning. He ordered omelets, toast, fruit, juice, and tea. We had an enjoyable Sunday morning, just the two of us talking and laughing about anything that came to mind. Then the conversation moved toward his choice of accommodations.
"I live here because I lack domestic skills. I've tried my best, but my cooking would result in an insurance claim somewhere at the end of it."
"I can cook," I said, "but living in London has kept me out of practice." We sat and stared at one another for a minute because I hesitated to ask, but I had to know. "Tell me something, how can you afford this place? With all this space and that amazing view, you could pay a few thousand pounds a night."
My question hadn't fazed him. "Oh, that," he said. "Money has no meaning on Jiyu. I understand that to most people here, it seems extravagant to live in a hotel penthouse for ten years, but we rarely use words like cost, extravagance, expensive, affordable, or cheap in my world.
"We have an entire planet of the same elementary resources that Earth does. Whenever we need them, we have automated underground extractors. Robotic workers bring them to the surface and carry them to our small refinery. It has no monetary value; no one pays for them. Here on Earth, however, I rented the penthouse from the owner on the condition that they include all their services."
"What did you pay him with?"
"At the market prices of the time," he said, "the equivalent of one million pounds in gold every year."
"And it never occurred to you that might be excessive?"
He laughed. "I only gave him some gold. He was happy with it, but I feel like I wronged him. We may not use money, but we know what has value. I've had a roof over my head, clean clothes, a bed to sleep on, and food to eat for ten years. What I gave him just doesn't seem enough. I know that sounds silly to you, probably. I've never understood monetary value; it makes no sense to me. It tends to place a higher value on things that serve no real purpose."
He sounded like someone remorseful because he tricked Jack into trading his cow for some useless beans. He had an attitude as alien as I'd ever heard, but the things David told me, while strange, further endeared him to me.
A little past ten o'clock in the morning, I was inspecting my cheek in the bathroom mirror. The swelling had gone down after several ice treatments, but I had purple and yellowish discoloration near my eye. I came from the bathroom to find David making a phone call. He stood there, letting it ring. He shook his head.
"No answer," he said, ending the call, "I'm trying to reach Pearce in the United States, my American counterpart and best friend growing up on Jiyu. I hear from him every two weeks. I heard from him two Sundays ago at 10:00 a.m. on the dot, as I have the last ten years, but it's well past ten o'clock now. He hasn't called, and he doesn't answer his mobile. He has always called. Perhaps, they've caught him, and he told them about the portal."
David's mobile rang. We thought Pearce had called him, but I heard the voice of Amanda Newton from the Home Office when he put the call on speakerphone so that I could listen in.
"Hello, Amanda," David said, "you don't usually call me. Is something wrong?"
"I have a problem," she told David. "Can I speak with you?"
"Yes, of course. What can I do for you?"
"Please, not on the phone. I must see you."
"Alright, I can do that. I do have one request, though. I must bring Mr. Heiden with me. It's necessary; I'll explain that when I see you. Upon my word, you can trust him."
"If you say so, David. I trust your judgment; that's why I'm calling you. Where can we meet?"
"I have one of the company cars. We can pick you up in an hour. How about in front of the Royal Albert?"
"I'll be there," said Amanda.
I could guess David's plan. The Royal Albert Hall lay close to my flat. We would have ample time to drop by, change my clothes, and pack a bag.
When I first arrived in the UK, I lived out of a suitcase for way too long, and I hadn't liked the idea of going back to that. I was paying an absurd amount of money for the flat for it to end up a mere storage locker, but I had no alternative. The circumstance reminded me: the flat. If I intended to go with David, the flat had to go. I had no idea what I would do with it. Selling it on seemed reasonable, but that would have taken time, and I had the impression we wouldn't have time to get it off my hands.
Every flat in my building came with one designated parking space in a nearby garage, which I think made a significant contribution to its ridiculous price. We parked and walked to the flat. In its current form, the building's interior resembled a new structure. My two-bedroom flat hadn't had much of a view unless someone enjoyed gawking at the shops across the street. Inside, it came with the typical modern decor of many urban spaces. I never took the time to paint, so it remained the mid-toned matte grey preferred by the previous owner. The living room had a stunning electric fireplace built into the focal wall. I intended to use it that winter as I cozied myself on the loveseat to read the latest novel --the one feature I figured I would enjoy most.
As I changed into my dark gray, striped tweed suit, I grew curious, so I thought I would inquire, "What can you tell me about Amanda Newton?"
"I like her," he said. "I consider her a good work-friend, and I know she thinks a lot of me, although I wouldn't say we had a close relationship away from work. I usually follow her lead when it comes to how close we treat one another at any given time."
"That's considerate of you."
"Well, thanks to her, I have my job." David left the bedroom.
"What is your job? You never did tell me." I had to shout to David, who snooped about my apartment as I finished dressing and began packing.
"I have difficulty defining what I do," he said from the kitchen. "I don't even think the position has a name."
"Well, what constitutes the bulk of what you do there?"
"Oh, a little of this, a bit of that. I call myself `helping,' but people have referred to me as all sorts --Amanda Newton's pet project, a bloody nuisance, the British government's Dutch uncle." I heard him inspecting the contents of my refrigerator.
"Dutch uncle?" I asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"I'm not that bad. I think I acquired that one from an incident years ago. Mr. Haywood had it coming, and I know he still hates me."
I finally finished packing and dragged my suitcase into the living room. "So, should I believe you lack popularity where you work?"
"Popularity is only important in beauty contests and elections," he said. "I have something far more valuable."
"And that is?"
"Their grudging respects. I've earned every ounce of it. Never underestimate the power of the respect people give you, regardless of how they feel about you otherwise. It's kept me at a job that has no name, doing something I've enjoyed, almost nine years."
It had been sprinkling all morning, and Ms. Newton was standing at the edge of the sidewalk waiting for us, holding her umbrella. She wore a classy-looking checked grey dress with a matching jacket. She took the front passenger seat, as I had sat in the back to give them room to chat.
"Amanda, I believe you remember Rick Heiden. Rick; Amanda Newton." David reintroduced us and drove on. "I know you have something important to discuss, but I must catch you up, Amanda. Two Americans abducted Rick yesterday afternoon at two o'clock."
She turned toward me with eyebrows raised. "Are you okay?"
"Thanks to David, yes. I appreciate your asking."
"Do go on," she said to David in interest.
"I can't leave him alone. They took him to a warehouse east of the city airport."
"What did you do to them?" she asked with passivity.
"One of them mysteriously died. The other got away."
"Damn," she said.
"Have you something I should know?" David asked her.
She said, "I'm glad you told me. I received a call on my mobile yesterday afternoon, a little after four o'clock. The man disguised his voice, but he sounded American. He told me that if I wouldn't release what he wanted into their custody by Monday night at midnight, they would harm my daughter. He said his dangerous friend had lots of patience, and if I try to hide her, I couldn't hide her forever. I must take threats seriously, David. I can't hide my daughter at all; she's twelve and has autism. It has taken us years to get her to the current level. She must have consistency, so we cannot hide her."
"I never knew you had children," David said.
"Few do. When my ex-husband and I divorced ten years ago, we decided that she should live with her father. Government service keeps me away too much, and he planned to live closer to the school she would need."
"Who knows about her?" David asked, pulling into a parking space.
"Very few."
"Who knew at the facility yesterday?" he asked her.
"Only Katheryn Elliott. I've known her for several years. We share the same yoga class. She requested to lead the team that's studying Amarae."
"Amanda, there's a possibility that Katheryn is giving secrets to the Americans," he said.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"It's possible but uncertain."
A thought occurred to me, and I figured I would share it, but first. "Ms. Newton, what's your daughter's name?"
"It's Helen," she replied.
David and I locked eyes in the rear-view mirror. He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Amanda. "The dead man had this in his pocket. Is that your number?"
She nodded. "My private mobile number. If the man is dead, would that mean my daughter is safe?" I could almost feel her holding her breath.
"I don't know," said David.
"Did the man on the phone specifically use the phrase lots of patience?" I asked.
"Yes, he did. Does that matter?"
"I think David hadn't arrived when the man said it to me, but the man who did all the talking said the dead man gave me too much in the injection, which put me in a deep sleep for several hours. He told me the other guy waited because he had lots of patience, but it was wearing thin. I don't know why the dead man had the paper with your mobile number and your daughter's name, but I think the talking man called you."
"I agree," said David, "but it does seem curious that the talking man had the dead man to play the ruffian. I couldn't guarantee anything, but he may be unwilling to pull any triggers himself." He pulled out his mobile. "I took a video of the dead man's recent calls and contacts from his mobile. The talking man might be among them. If I ask, Mr. Haywood won't do it because he dislikes me, but if I send you this video, could you have MI5 check the names and give us a background on them?"
"Of course," she said.
"What will happen to Katheryn?" I asked.
"We have no evidence, so for now, nothing," said David, "but she seems the best candidate. It may be a case of having to keep your potential enemies closer."
"Indeed," said Amanda, "and I'll have MI5 check her further."
"One last thing, Amanda," said David, "where have you kept the body of the man like Amarae?" David pulled into traffic and drove us back toward the Albert.
Amanda paused for a moment. "Facility3 with Amarae. He had head trauma, so the emergency services took him to the hospital in Queen Square, but he died, and they held the body in their morgue for a few days so that they could scan and x-ray it for us. When Amarae showed up, they took him to Facility3 as well. I like to keep things tidy."
"But Facility3 doesn't have a morgue," said David.
"No, but they make portable versions of everything these days, even body freezers. By the way, Mr. Heiden, since you met with Amarae yesterday, he has been talking to us, so thank you."
We pulled into the lay-by at the Royal Albert Hall. As Amanda thanked David for coming, she stroked his cheek and smiled at him before leaving the vehicle. It seemed an odd gesture, which I hadn't quite understood, but seemed consistent with her barnacle-like behavior at the party. Once out of sight, David expressed his frustrations. "Why must things have so many bloody complications?"
I jumped into the front seat. "They put them both in the same facility, isn't that good? Why couldn't we tell Amanda the situation, get her to let us take Cadmar's body, get Amarae and Maggie, then head for the portal?"
"Oh, Rick, I wish things worked with such simplicity," he said, pulling out into traffic. "I appreciate the body's convenient location, but it would change everything if we told her the situation; the government is her priority. The list of things to do before we leave continues to grow. If we don't want that list to have exponential growth, we must keep things to ourselves. Even after your abduction, we could have ignored the talking man, but not if he's threatened a child. Now we must take care of the talking man and the informant, retrieve Cadmar's body and then free Amarae from his cell. That's enough to cope with, I should think."
"Couldn't MI5 get the talking man and the informant? It's their job," I said.
"Yes, and no," he said, "it's MI5's job, but I have a connection to the cause so I cannot absolve myself of responsibility without honorable reasons. You have many things to learn about Jiyu. We must willingly take responsibility for our actions and protect our honor. We do not have the litigious society that exists in this world. We have no government to uphold contracts, so we do not use them, and no one sues anybody. So, your word is your bond, the effects of your actions are yours to deal with, and how you deal with them reflects upon your honor. Cadmar came here to take me home, but he died in the attempt. My involvement places the responsibility upon me, so I must fix this."
"If you have the responsibility, why did Amarae come here?"
"He would have requested that Cadmar come," he replied.
"I see," I said. "So, why did Amanda stroke your cheek?"
"She has a fondness for me."
"Right...," I said.
"Oh, your mention of Maggie joining us reminded me," he said. "I did a cursory examination of your associates during your background check, and I noticed something about Maggie. It's nothing bad, so don't worry about that, but when the time comes, she may not want to go."
"Why not?" I asked.
"I don't think you've thought this move through," he said. "We won't move you to the opposite side of the planet, but another planet altogether, a permanent move, and not an easy one. Jiyu has a larger circumference than the Earth, and its gravity is 1.375 times as great, which at first will present a challenge for you. But you shouldn't assume she will want to go. People live complicated lives."
"Oh, I've thought about it," I said, "but I admit not having considered certain aspects of it. I do know I want to remain with you. Wait, you said we would have 1.375 times as much gravity." I made a quick calculation in my head. "I'll weigh 220 pounds there! That sounds exhausting. So, how long did you live there before you came back?"
"My parents and I moved there when I was two years old, and I came back at thirty, in Earth years anyway, but the time differential caused only five and a half years to pass on Earth."
"What? I don't understand," I said.
"We have an anomaly near our solar system, which distorts how time passes around it. It's a 5:1 ratio. Five years there has a rough equivalence of one year here, give or take some days."
"That sounds wild. What does that feel like?" I asked.
He shrugged. "It feels like it does here. Can you feel time moving five times slower here than it does somewhere else in the galaxy?"
"Not that I've noticed," I said.
"That's because you'll only notice a difference after having traveled between the two planets. Since I've lived here, nearly ten Earth years have passed, but on Jiyu, it's been fifty."
"Fifty years? Might your parents have died by now?" I asked.
"They died not long after we arrived. My parents hadn't survived the transition. Some people have difficulty with the increased gravity, and enhancements take time. My mother had an undiagnosed heart condition, and my father had led a sedentary lifestyle and was far too old. We've ensured that won't happen again. My father was forty-six when we left Earth, and my mother was forty-one. After the age of forty, humans begin a steady decline to middle age. We made forty the age limit for transitioning to Jiyu, and while I've been here for ten years, I was enhanced long ago. So, I won't have a problem upon my return."
"I'm sorry about your parents."
He turned to me, and I noted his sad smile. "I don't think about it much. After they died, an amazing, loving couple adopted me. I consider them my parents since I barely remember my biological ones."
"In this context," I said, "what does enhanced mean?"
"It means that parts of my body have similarities to the X-ray of Cadmar. I've gone through a technological alteration so that I can live on Jiyu. We evolved to live in Earth's gravity. Without enhancements, younger people can cope with the higher gravity on Jiyu for a while, but it has significant side effects. Over time, it will age you faster, wear out your joints, strain your heart, and damage your bones. We've corrected those problems and even managed to stop the aging process long ago for those people who want it. I've not had that enhancement, but I will upon my return, and over time, my body will revert to a younger state than it is now."
"You'll never grow old?"
"Not if I don't want to," he said, "and you'll have the same opportunity."
"They could make me immortal?"
"Not really, you would have provisional immortality," he said. "You will die one day. However, barring some accident or incident that causes catastrophic homeostatic failure, if you continue to receive food, water, and oxygen, you will endure."
I thought I could no longer find amazement in anything that David told me. I was wrong. The revelation had consequences that even I could see would bring nothing but disaster for the people on Earth should they get their hands on that technology. If the population hadn't rapidly exploded, it's because the rich would make immortality only available to themselves.
It also distressed me that Maggie would not want to come with us. If true, I wished to get that news over with. I called her to ask if I could come to visit. She agreed, and David took me there, as he had something to do that could not involve me. It made me curious, but I figured I would find out later. He asked me to remain vigilant and not to leave her apartment until he returned. I had no problem with that as I wasn't seeking re-abduction. He saw me to her door and kissed me a bye-for-now. Maggie smirked when she witnessed it.
"I knew it! You told me you hadn't had sex with him."
"I never lied," I said. "I hadn't...not at the time, anyway."
"So, you have now."
"Yes, but I hadn't come about that. I'm here about you."
"Me? Why?"
I told her the astonishing things David told me. She hadn't known whether she believed everything he said. I told her that I had seen the weapon he used to kill the man who hit me, but most compelling of all, I had stared into Amarae's eyes. They did not come from Earth with the current technology.
"Yes, I know you never saw those things," I said to her, "but for the sake of argument, let's suggest you had, and you knew it as I do. David offered us an opportunity to go to his home planet, and I, your best friend, want to go with him. Will you go?"
She looked at me with a blank stare. "It sounds like an opportunity that only comes once, and for as much as it sounds like a grand adventure, I could not."
I had a tightness in my chest as if someone were squeezing my heart. I wanted Maggie to come with me. She was my family; I couldn't lose her.
"Would you tell me why?"
"My grandmother," she said. "She took care of me when I had no one else. Now, she's elderly and unable to work. She has her pension, but it doesn't cover the cost of all her needs. Every month I send her money from my salary to make up the difference. If I left, she would have no one to help her. I cannot go, but I would never want that to stop you. I will be fine."
She and I talked for several hours. We sent out for Chinese and had a satisfying meal together, and as we did so, it reminded me of David and his cup of tea. I thought to myself then, that could be the last meal that she and I shared. I would miss that.