Vicious Circle (51 page)

‘Very well, then; I intend to make the most of it, I warn you,’ she assured him. ‘Next bit of breaking news is that the FBI is also interested in the affairs of Carl and Johnny.’

‘Damn it! Are they going to beat me to it? This is my business entirely; they should keep their noses out of it.’

‘This is how it stands now,’ Jo replied. ‘Congo is one of the most wanted men in the USA. In addition to the multiple murders for which he was convicted, there was also the killing of Lucas Heller during the prison break. Lucas was regarded as a law enforcement officer. It’s not a good idea to kill one of those. When it was clear that Johnny had fled the US of A, the FBI was called in. The investigation was difficult and protracted. In the beginning nobody suspected that Carl Bannock was implicated. Congo had simply disappeared, and there were no clues to his whereabouts. The time passed, but the FBI never let up.’

Jo paused to gather her thoughts, and then she went on, ‘Finally, in a seemingly unrelated matter the IRS began to investigate Marco Merkowski, warden of Holloway Prison, for tax evasion. He had been unable to account for being in possession of large sums of money in offshore banking accounts. Merkowski was brought to trial for tax evasion and sentenced to five years’ detention. The FBI was able to link the timing of Johnny Congo’s prison break with Marco’s unexplained cash windfall. They offered Marco a deal if he would cooperate with their investigation of the Congo escape.’

‘I bet Merkowski jumped at the chance to get out of jail free,’ Hector suggested.

‘He nearly tripped over his own feet in the rush,’ Jo agreed. ‘So the FBI was finally able to make the connection between Carl, Congo and the Henry Bannock Family Trust. They came to Ronnie Bunter as the head trustee. Even though over the years Ronnie had been in regular contact with Carl by email, Ronnie still had no idea where Carl was hiding. Living a double life and protecting Johnny Congo, Carl had become an expert at covering his tracks. Nevertheless Ronnie Bunter had to tell the FBI that his relationship with Carl was client and attorney, and he could not divulge any information about the Trust or its beneficiaries without committing breach of trust.’

The intercom rang and Jo broke off to let Hector reply. ‘Thank you, Cynthia. Yes, we are ready for dinner right about now.’ He glanced enquiringly at Jo and she nodded agreement. ‘You can ask Stephen to be ready to serve it in about ten minutes.’ Hector switched off the intercom and turned back to Jo. ‘Would you like to wash your hands and then we can go down. Cynthia has the temperament of a great artist. When she says “Eat!” we eat.’

Once they were seated at the dining table Jo picked up the tale again. ‘So the FBI petitioned the Supreme Court for a Disclosure of Information Order against the Henry Bannock Family Trust and its trustees. Ronnie, as was his duty as head trustee, defended the case and when it went against him he appealed. We lost again on appeal, so Ronnie had to admit defeat and do what his own moral principles had urged him to do all along. He gave everything we had on Carl and Johnny Congo to the FBI. This happened long before Ronnie and Andrew Moorcroft met again. Even with what we gave them at that time the mighty FBI were still unable to locate Carl and Johnny.’

‘So are you and Ronnie now obliged to give the FBI the information that you gained recently from Andrew and Emma Purdom, pinpointing Carl’s whereabouts?’ he asked, and Jo sighed.

‘That’s a moot point, Hector. Ronnie and I have convinced ourselves that the Disclosure Order is only valid for information that we received up until the date of the order, and we are willing to take a chance on that assumption. Even if the FBI gets wind of the true situation and demands that we give them up-to-date information we are prepared to appeal their decision. So you have about a year without interference from Big Brother to do what you have to do.’

‘What do you think I have to do, Jo Stanley?’

‘My throat is sore from all this talking.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘I cannot say another word. As a lawyer, I certainly cannot incite you to commit a felony, such as killing or kidnapping anybody. You are a big boy, Hector Cross. You know what you must do. You don’t need me to tell you.’

‘I agree with you on the last bit, Jo. I do know what I must do right now. I must see to it that you enjoy your dinner, and pay full respect to the rather decent wine that I have chosen for us. I think that we have both had enough of Carl and Johnny for one day. Let’s talk of more salubrious matters for the rest of the evening, and come back to them again tomorrow morning.’

For the rest of the dinner they spoke only about each other. Of course she knew almost everything about him, but he knew very little about her. He listened with his full attention and almost everything she had to tell him tended to confirm the high opinion he was forming of her. By the time they had finished the main meal there was a powerful and almost tangible undercurrent running between them. He realized that the removal of Hazel’s portrait from his study wall had set their relationship on a new course. They could look into each other’s eyes candidly and with trust. Each of them knew that they had reached an unspoken agreement. They were relaxed and trusting in each other.

When Stephen cleared away the plates, and Hector asked her, ‘Dessert? Cheese? Cigars?’ she laughed and shook her head.

‘It was a great meal, but I think I will pass on the cigars, thank you.’

‘We can go through to the sitting room for coffee, then,’ he suggested. He stood up and went behind her seat and helped her draw back her chair, and then he gave her his arm and took her through to the sitting room.

‘Oh, how lovely,’ she said when she saw the fire in the grate. They stood in front of it with their backs to the warmth. She moved a little closer to him, and looked up to him. They held each other’s gaze as he bowed his head over her, and her lips parted slightly, her breath came quicker.

It was their first real kiss, a statement and a promise. At the end of it they were clinging to each other. He spoke at last with their lips only inches apart, and they each had the taste of the other in their mouths. ‘I mean this, Jo,’ he said.

‘So do I,’ she whispered.

‘Please stay with me tonight,’ he said, and she hesitated for a long moment before she replied.

‘Hector, I am not going to pull any punches. I knew a great deal about you even before we actually met, and I thought you must be a fascinating man. Then I met you for the first time and I discovered you were exactly what I had hoped you would be.’ She looked up at him and there was green fire in her eyes. ‘I have wanted you ever since that day, but I knew it was still far too soon for you. I was prepared to wait. But now I think that I have waited long enough. You have taken down the portrait in your study. For me that was an important statement. For me there is no turning back from here.’

He opened his mouth to reply to her, but she reached out quickly and placed her forefinger on his lips.

‘Wait! Hear me out, please. I am not a simpering virgin, but neither am I a tramp. I was even married once, admittedly not for very long. However, I have never before jumped into bed with a man without a lot of careful thought and consideration.’

Gently he lifted her hand away from his mouth. ‘We don’t have to say anything more. From here onwards too many words may spoil what seems to me good and right. Being in love is fun, let’s have fun, Jo, my darling.’

‘That’s the first time you ever called me darling, Hector darling.’

‘May I show you the way upstairs?’

‘Come along!’ she said. ‘Show me which stairs in particular we are talking about here.’

They stopped at the foot of the staircase. ‘It’s so far to the top,’ she said. ‘I swear I don’t think I can make it without a little more encouragement.’

She turned towards him, took hold of the lapels of his jacket, lifted her face to his and stood on her tiptoes. He drew her closer and bowed his head to kiss her again. Her arms slipped around his neck. Their bodies melded. Her mouth was hot and he could smell the natural musk of her arousal blending with her perfume. He wanted her. His body was racked by the need for her. He picked her up in his arms and she kept her arms locked around his neck and her mouth glued to his.

He ran with her up the stairs and she laughed into his mouth. ‘You crazy man! If you fall you’ll kill us both.’

‘I fell already, and we survived.’

‘Only just,’ she said.

Still with her in his arms he pushed open the bedroom door with his shoulder and carried her through. Then he kicked the door closed behind them and carried her across the room to place her on her feet, facing the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

He stood behind her with his arms clasped around her, looking over her shoulder and studying her image in the glass.

‘I cannot get over how lovely you are,’ he said.

She took his hands and placed them over her breasts. ‘I think I look a lot better like this. It certainly feels better.’ She was watching his eyes in the mirror.

He unbuttoned the front of her blouse and she dropped her arms to allow him to slip the blouse off her shoulders. He tossed it over the foot of the bed and then cupped her breasts again and squeezed them together softly.

‘They are so big.’ He kissed her ear from behind and she shivered.

‘You are giving me goose bumps,’ she said. ‘Inside and out.’

He unhooked the clasp of her bra between her bosoms, and then he tossed the bra onto the bed on top of her blouse. He reached around again and took her nipples between finger and thumb of both his hands and milked them gently. Her nipples stiffened, thrust out their tips and turned the colour of ripening mulberries as the blood rushed into them. He pulled them out as far as they would go and then released them. They bounced back as though made of rubber.

‘I hope you are having fun?’ She tried to make her voice stern, but her breath was gusty.

‘I cannot remember when I ever had more fun. As the man said, being in love is fun.’ He kissed her shoulder. ‘Your skin is so white and smooth.’

He ran his fingertips down from her breasts to her navel. Her belly was concave, white and warm as marble in the sunlight.

‘Do you think I am fat?’ she asked, the ubiquitous feminine question.

‘I’ll kill anyone who answers yes to that,’ he warned her.

He unbuttoned the top of her skirt and worked it down over her hips. It dropped around her ankles and she kicked off her high heels.

Her bikini panties were of white satin with a little heart-shaped cut-out of lacework in the front. In the mirror he could see the shadowy haze of her pubes through the lace. He ran his fingertips lightly over the satin, and she whispered breathlessly, ‘You are not teasing me; you are torturing me.’

‘No more torture,’ he promised and pulled open the elastic top of her panties, and ran his hand down under the satin. She moved her feet apart to allow him access.

‘She is so wonderfully lubricious,’ he murmured.

‘That’s just pussy’s way of saying hello and it’s so nice to meet you at last,’ she explained.

‘There is somebody else around here who also desperately wants to meet pussy,’ he said.

‘I know exactly who you mean,’ she replied. ‘He has been making his presence felt recently.’

‘He has no manners. Please forgive his pushy and thrusting behaviour.’

‘Pushy is good.’ She laughed. ‘Thrusting is even better. I think pussy would very much like to meet him. Do you mind if I make the introductions?’

‘Please do,’ he invited, and she turned in the circle of his arms to face him, and she kissed him. But at the same time she was drawing down the zipper of his trouser fly.

‘Goodness gracious me!’ she exclaimed suddenly.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘That was an exclamation of delight, not dismay. I knew he had to be large but I never thought he would be that big. My immediate problem now is that you are over-dressed, but I intend to fix that.’ With her one hand still deep into the opening of his fly and the other hand on his chest she forced him to reverse until he came up against the bed and he went over backwards onto the covers.

‘Stay like that,’ she ordered. ‘Don’t move!’ She knelt and unlaced his shoes and pulled off his socks. Then she grabbed the bottoms of his trousers and told him, ‘Lift your bum, chum!’

When he obeyed she whipped off his trousers with a flourish and then did the same with his underpants. She stood back brandishing his boxers over her head and giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘Look at you, sticking up in the air and making the place all untidy. No, don’t move! I’ll have him tucked away neatly before you can say Jack Flash!’

She flipped the boxers over her shoulder and placed her fists on her hips and studied him with her head cocked on one side.

‘Hey, there!’ Hector said after a while. ‘What are we waiting for?’

‘Oh, I am sorry. I think I must have been hypnotized there for a moment, like the bird by the cobra. He is not only large but really rather handsome into the bargain, you know?’ She hopped up onto the bed beside him, and swung one leg over him, straddling him. She busied herself for a moment and then she gasped, ‘Oh my God, he fits in! I had serious doubts that it was possible.’

Their lovemaking was ebullient and joyful; mutually fulfilling after their long abstinence. Afterwards they clung together, their breath and their perspiration mingling. They talked, and then made love again. Long after midnight they fell asleep still conjoined.

In the dawn she woke first, but he felt her eyes on his face and he opened his.

‘I was so afraid,’ she said and hugged him fiercely. ‘I dreamed you had gone away again.’

‘That’s not going to happen, I promise you.’

It was mid-morning when Cynthia sent up their breakfast and they ate in their bathrobes. They had shared a bath and their bodies still glowed from love and hot water. As Jo poured the coffee she asked, ‘So what do we do now?’ The plural pronoun came naturally to her lips.

‘The time for talking is past, now we start moving.’

‘Where to?’

‘To Abu Zara for a start. I have to get the team assembled, briefed and focussed. You have to meet Catherine Cayla.’