BioKill (20 page)

Kate propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her back. “Damn, there goes my business.”

Chapter Thirty-one

The inn wasn’t
exactly up-market — but it was comfortable and clean. At 4:15 in the morning the large neon light flashing
Twenty Horses Inn
was a welcome sight. Matt was tired — and he needed sleep. The driver wished him good night as he left his passenger outside.

Lilburn kicked the door shut with his heel and heard it slam behind him. The curtains were open and the neon sign was close enough to provide enough light to make his way to the bedroom. The cleaners had been in, there was the faintest whiff of a scent… cleaning product. Switching on the bedside light he noticed the bed had been made up. Fresh white sheets and a fluffed-up white pillow looked very inviting. Pulling the curtains shut felt good, taking off his shoes even better but stripping off all vestige of clothing was the best. He was too tired to shower, time for that when he woke. He pulled the bedding back on one side of the queen bed; the bottom sheet had been pulled tight and tucked in with perfect hospital corners. Lilburn crawled onto the bed lying on his stomach; his head cocked to the side. The sheets had a delightful coolness… first he put one leg under the bedding, then the other. With eyes shut he grasped the bedding and pulled it up to the bottom of his buttocks. Another hand fumbled for the bedside light switch. The darkness was the last thing he remembered.

*

The staffer making the call had been warned the man he was calling was most likely in a deep sleep, so if there was no reply he was to wait two minutes then repeat the procedure until the phone was answered.

It was his third attempt before Lilburn opened his eyes to daylight strained through curtains. Still in the same position as six hours before, his body took a bit of easing out of bed. The phone rang again. Lilburn stumbled to the lounge before realizing he was buck naked. Pausing to look out the window, he saw he was in full view of any passerby.

The phone sat on top of the kitchen bench. With his back to the front door he lifted the handset to his ear, leaned his elbows on the bench and gave a raspy early morning “Hello.”

A young man replied. “Good morning, sir, may I confirm who I am speaking to, please?”

“Matt Lilburn.”

“I have a message from Director Hall. A car will be sent to you, arriving at thirteen-hundred hours, to bring you to HQ.”

“Wilco.”

“Oh, one last thing, sir, the director also wished me to tell you Dr. Crawston is in room fifteen. Thank you, sir, and good day.”

Lilburn returned the phone to the cradle.
Room fifteen, that’s only three doors down.
With one hand he wiped the sleep from his eyes; it was then he heard a knock on the window. Standing bolt upright, he looked straight ahead to the rear of the room. Wide awake and conscious of his vulnerability.
Oh shit.

The muffled voice from outside was unmistakably English, the gender conspicuously feminine. “Is that you, Mr. Lilburn?”

Lilburn didn’t need to see the huge grin on Evangeline’s face to know it was there. It occurred to him the old saying of being caught with your pants down had never been truer.

“Why, Mr. Lilburn — in some circles it is considered most impolite to turn your back on a lady when she addresses you.”

He heard a giggle.

“Is this why your native Indians called white people pale-face?”

Lilburn raised his chin and turned one hundred and eighty degrees to face the doctor.

A shocked squeal came from outside his window.“Oh my goodness, oh my… my!” Evangeline waved a hand in front of her face as if to cool herself down. “So, Matthew, I take it you don’t appreciate being the
butt
of my jokes.” She finally lifted her eyes. Now she was the one who felt… flushed.

Evangeline watched through the window as the naked man strolled to the door. She heard the sound of the door being unlocked, but it remained shut.

“Come on in, I need to shower but feel free to wait.” As Lilburn made his way to the bathroom, he heard the door open very quickly. He burst out laughing.

His hand, palm up, extended out under the stream of water. When the temperature reached the point of comfort Lilburn stepped in and pulled the nylon curtain shut. Steam began to rise. He looked up — a small narrow window above the shower head was open sufficiently for some of the rising moisture to escape. Shutting his eyes he let his head fall back, and the pressurized water cascaded over his head and face down to the stainless steel shower floor, rinsing away the grime and the blood. It felt good to be alive. Lilburn lowered his head and opened his eyes. What the water didn’t wash away was the thought of his dead comrades and the families they left behind.

“I heard you were back in town,” Evangeline said from the lounge area. “Homeland rang me and said you were back. They’re going to call you later.”

“Be right with you.” Lilburn turned off the shower then reached blindly around the shower curtain to the wall where motel towels usually hung. The towel wasn’t there.

“Looking for this?”

Taking the towel that was obligingly placed in his extended hand, he wiped his face then wrapped it around his waist before stepping out of the shower cubicle. “Now I know there’s a hand when I need it.”

Evangeline smiled and retreated to the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Make it a strong coffee and it’s a deal. Thanks. Just a drop of milk, no sugar.” Once Evangeline had left the bathroom he pushed the door almost closed then unhooked his towel letting one end fall to the floor. A face stared at him, rugged with stubble. He squinted his eyes then rubbed the foggy mirror with the towel. “Matt, my boy, you’ve aged ten years.”

“Sorry… did you say something?” Evangeline had pushed the door open. The move was calculated. Before she spoke her eyes had taken in the glistening wet masculine body standing in profile. Her heart raced.

Startled by her voice, Lilburn lost his grip on the towel, which fell to the ground. He stood watching as her eyes followed his curves. “I need a shave.”

Evangeline shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

*

Their bodies entwined, their lips fervently sought out the other’s, tongues probed. Evangeline pushed away, holding him back at arm’s length. Lilburn was quietly amused at her promiscuity; he looked back and smiled. Her gaze was steady. He thought he actually heard a purr. Evangeline arched her head back then shook her head side to side, her auburn hair flowing like silk. What came next was a surprise. Evangeline’s sensuous eyes drew him in, her hands grabbed her own blouse and ripped it apart, buttons tumbling to the floor. Her taut breasts threatened to burst her lacy bra apart. Evangeline raised her hand. Grasping the hair on the back of his head, she pulled him down to her cleavage. Lilburn could feel her soft, warm flesh; he could smell the lust. He wanted more. The hand that forced him down now pulled him violently away. He caught his breath. As if by magic the bra was flicked away. This time she didn’t need to pull him close. His tongue licked, his teeth delicately plucked the hard red nipples centered inside the round brown areola. Running the very tip of his tongue upward from her cleavage, he slowly followed the contour of her neck on to her chin. Evangeline moaned with lust and desire before their lips locked. Again she pushed him away, this time with one hand, the other she ran down over a heaving breast to settle on the button on her jeans. She rocked her body from side to side in a sensuous dance, her tongue running the full length of her own flushed lips. Her fingers expertly undid her jeans button and started on the zip. Lilburn watched as Evangeline’s eyes started downwards past his chest, past his hips. He heard her gasp then drop to her knees. The real pleasure had just begun.

*

Evangeline picked up a sachet of instant coffee from a small wicker basket in the kitchen and looked at the packaging. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer tea?”

Lilburn emerged from the bedroom, this time he was dressed. “So how come an English woman knows more about coffee than me?”

“Ah ha. We British have a very strong coffee tradition. Did you know that in 1732, the English East India Company planted coffee on the island of St. Helena? The same island Napoleon was exiled to after the Battle of Waterloo.”

Evangeline had pulled her clothes back on. The blouse, with most of its buttons missing, had been knotted together. It accentuated her already ample breasts, and unashamedly grabbed his attention.

“And did you know…” Evangeline placed an index finger under his chin and lifted his attention. “I have the actual diary of Napoleon, written by his very hand.”

“I thought Napoleon never actually wrote a diary.”

“Matt, I’m impressed. History does tell us indeed that he never put pen to paper in a diary and the famous Napoleonic diaries weren’t written by the general himself. However, in this case history is wrong. He did and I have it.” Evangeline turned away as the electric kettle came to the boil.

Lilburn watched as she took a couple of steps to the kitchen bench top. “And your knowledge of the beans stems from…”

Evangeline finished pouring the hot water into the mugs. There was a subtle change in her stance, a pause in her breathing, a moment of retrospect. “I had a good friend, a wonderful man, he worked in the New York Coffee, Sugar and Cocoa Exchange.” Turning back towards Lilburn holding two full coffee mugs, there was a glaze in her eyes. “The exchange was unfortunately located in the World Trade Center. One of the reasons… I have an interest in terrorism and the damage that it does to innocent people.”

Politely accepting the coffee, Lilburn took a first tentative sip. Not being too hot he took a gulp. “Yeah, OK.” His face contorted. “I think we need to go and find some real coffee.” Lilburn looked at his watch. “We should have enough time to call a cab, find a café, have some fresh Arabica and some breakfast, then hightail it back here by thirteen hundred hours, ready to be picked up to go to HQ. Would that suit madam?”

“Let me go back to my room and change first. I’ll be right back.”

Lilburn reached over the front seat and handed the taxi fare to the cheerful Italian cabbie who insisted they introduce themselves to his friend Alfonso, and to tell him Antonio said to give them his best, most freshly roasted beans.

As the cab started to turn back into the traffic after dropping off Lilburn and Evangeline, it came to a sudden halt and the passenger window wound down. “And you tell that miserable son of a bitch to give you his best price otherwise I call his momma!”

The café was just along from the Times Union Center on South Pearl Street. Lilburn looked around at the predominantly concrete and brick buildings, a far cry from where he had been the evening before.

“Earth to Matt… come in, Matt.”

“Sorry… I was daydreaming. Funny how everything changes in the blink of an eye.”

“There’s an old quote:
That’s life.
It sort of sums it all up, don’t you think?” Evangeline placed her arm around his and led him into Alfonso’s Café. A bell tinkled as the door was opened.

A man presented himself and asked in a broad New York accent if they wanted a table for two. Lilburn acknowledged they would and was then shown to a table where their order was taken and the waiter hurried off.

“So, Matt, are you going to ask to speak to Alfonso to make sure his best beans are forthcoming?” Evangeline was doing her best to hold back a laugh.

“I just did. That guy’s name tag said Alfonso.”

“You should be using your networking powers. Let Alfonso know you’ve spoken to his cousin and he has to give us his best beans — or else!”

“I’m not into that networking stuff.”

“You’re scared!”

“No.”

“Then you’re shy.”

“Now you’re just being silly.”

Evangeline saw Alfonso come back their way, about to wait on another table. “Here he comes, go on… I dare you. Network.”

Lilburn relented. “Excuse me… ah, Alfonso.”

The café owner turned towards them. “Yes, sir, how may I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. Um. A friend of yours asked us to mention his name. Antonio said to tell you to give us your best coffee at your best price, or he was going to tell your momma. His words, not mine.”

The Italian’s smile turned sickly. Alfonso placed the tray he was holding down on the table beside Lilburn and repeated the name, this time without a smile. “Antonio.” He puffed out his chest and looked up to the ceiling. “Antonio… Antonio… ANTONIO!” A hand shot out and rested on the small table. Alfonso flexed his shoulders, each separately jerking in turn. Bringing his face down he stared at Lilburn, his other hand gesturing at eyeball level. Matt thought he was about to get a finger up his nose. Alfonso hissed at him, only inches from his face. “You mention that name… you speak to me using that name…”

Lilburn didn’t move, he didn’t know what to think. Slowly he turned to Evangeline who was likewise stock still with her mouth wide open. The café seemed very quiet, hardly anyone inside dared to breathe. Out of the side of his mouth, he hissed, “This is exactly why I don’t do networking.”

Suddenly a huge grin brightened Alfonso’s face.

“I got you.” A hand slapped his back hard. “Any friend of Antonio is a friend of mine.”

People in the café resumed their conversations; some gave nervous giggles, those who were regulars laughed out loud. A couple at a far table burst into applause. “You got ’em real good, Alfy.”

Lilburn breathed a sigh of relief — he had just been suckered. Evangeline leaned back against her chair and looked up to the ceiling while placing a hand on her still rapidly beating chest. “Oh my goodness, I declare my heart certainly missed a beat or two.”

“Please, for taking part in my theatrics, the coffee is on me. It will be my pleasure.”

Evangeline regained her composure. “I take it we were set up by your friend Antonio?”

“I am afraid so, bella. He is my cousin and every so often we have a bit of fun with the clientele. It breaks the monotony. I got on YouTube once.”

“Marvelous. Matt — don’t you agree?”

“I know never to do any more networking.”