Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 7

Tadifi’s legend

Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Meanwhile, Elsa was quietly amused. It wasn't like I could request the SD to force my House Guard to not do something they had been told to do by someone in my hierarchy. That would lead to chaos, and it was unfair to Juanita.

"Fine," I decided. "Get us three some water. Elsa and I will be practicing."

Now Juanita was stuck. I wasn't asking her to leave the room, just leave me alone. I was technically her leader, respect notwithstanding.

"It is good to see you have not become drunk with power," Elsa smirked once Juanita had left on her errand.

"Your mockery is unappreciated," I glared back.

I was only kidding. "I haven't seen you around recently. It is good to see you."

"It is good to see you too," Elsa said in a voice far softer and compassionate than I would have preferred. After all, she had me drugged, beaten, then beaten me up again in the not so distant past.

Of course, I had also sexed her up, bringing her to orgasm with my fingers alone. We had also exchanged a burning French kiss in Katrina's office that Buffy was aware of. Then there was the Buffy-Elsa personal feud and the Elsa-Rhada family feud. Balancing that was Elsa's super-hot body and intriguing personality. Sex with her promised to be memorable, more memorable than normal.

"What have you been up to? I'd like to say I've been behaving myself, but I don't want to advance our relationship by lying (right now, about this)."

"You are largely responsible for what I've been up to the past two weeks," she stepped back. She tossed her spear aside and entered her fighting stance. How nice of her to warn me, and get rid of her weapon. How erotically odd of her to give me the illusion of a chance.

"I deny everything," I rocked back. She was blindingly fast. The fact that I was able to block most of the blow was a testament to how much I had learned in the past two and a half months.

"Watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu', 'Wǒ shuō pǔtōnghu ', 'Wǒ shuō guǎngdōng hu ' and 'Aku isa basa jawa'," she lectured me as she maneuvered me into a corner with a series of kicks and feints. She spoke Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese and Javanese. That was nice to know.

"Wait," then she kicked me off the mat.

"Amazons don't have a 'time out'," she smiled. I cautiously worked my way back onto the practice area.

"What part did you play?" I readied myself. This time, I went on the offensive. I used my greater strength and reach to compensate (rather poorly) for her superior reflexes.

"Someone had to ride herd on those disparate forces. My status was respected by the Amazons, I had experience dealing with outsiders, plus your person Addison nominated me, and Katrina suggested that you and I were close. That was enough for the Khanate. Your embassy and earlier aid to the Seven Families brought the 9 Clans along."

"And you stole the carrier?"

"It was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to humiliate the Seven Pillars," she grinned. "Riding in a nuclear submarine was interesting, right up there with running around, spray painting translations next to all the markings onboard the captured vessel. Herding regular civilians wasn't nearly as much fun."

"In the annals of the SD, that is going to be a victory hard to surpass," I got out right before my legs were swept out from under me. Before I could roll over, she landed on top of me. She didn't go for a pin. Elsa simply sat there, straddling my hips and looking down at me. We were both breathing heavily.

"I owe you for that," she patted me on my bare chest.

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"I'll let you figure that out during the Great Hunt," she gave a sliver of a smile.

"Not you too," I groaned.

"Who else are you worried about?"

"You and twenty-nine other Amazons. By name, Rachel. She's pretty upbeat about her chances and believes she has a score to settle."

"Rachel will be a tough one," Elsa acknowledged.

"Comfortable?" Juanita muttered.

"Yes, I am," Elsa grinned her way. "Thank you for asking." Juanita gave me a look that suggested I do something like protest, or actually try to fight her off.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I wondered.

"I've learned to appreciate your numerous qualities," Elsa enlightened me. "I am also honest enough to admit I was completely wrong about you. You make a good Amazon." That was huge praise indeed and more importantly, it was to a public audience. I was double fortunate that no one was close enough to see Elsa's camel toe resting against my lightly covered hard-on.

"Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Aren't you engaged to someone?" Juanita reminded me. What she was really saying was 'don't you know you belong to the maidens of House Ishara?' Trust me, I know these things. Had she meant Hana, she would have said Hana.

"She has the patience of Job," I reasoned. "Oh, Elsa, Job is a figure in the Old Testament of the Bible." I doubted she knew.

"Oh. Is he a bloody-handed butcher, raging misogynist, or one of those pacifistic wimps?"

"He's a nice guy who gets swallowed by a whale."

"That's Jonah," Juanita corrected me. "Job is the one who was tested by God. Job accepted God taking away all his family, wealth and health, only to be rewarded for his loyalty to God with more than he ever had before."

"Wimp."

"I would never turn away from Ishara," Juanita rumbled.

"Zorja would never feel the need to test my loyalty so," Elsa riposted.

"Oh look," I thrust my hips up. "I seem to need a shower." Elsa's expression was of superiority and lust combined into a lethal cocktail of my demise.

"Let's go. You can wash my back," she said as she rose over me. She even offered me a hand up. That was unexpected and accepted warily.

"Is there some battle wound that makes you incapable of bathing yourself?" Juanita got feisty. Holy Hell, she was my Caribbean Buffy-twin.

"None," Elsa smugly commented. "I like the feel of his hands on my body. He possesses non-threatening masculinity wed with sisterly solidarity. It is a unique experience that you seem woefully unaware of."

"Yippee!" I whispered.

"You really are a man-whore," Juanita declared under her breath.

"Check," I gave her a thumbs-up. Sadly, Elsa gave me enough respect to walk at my side, not in front of me (so I could have been mesmerized by her buttocks.) As I was stripping down in the locker room, I noticed Juanita hovering close by. "Are you going to follow me into the shower?"

"Yes."

"Why? I am not going to be in danger in the middle of Havenstone."

"I'll be the judge of that," she insisted.

"You do realize I've had sex with an audience before, don't you?"

"I've been warned about that and know proper counter-measures."

"What? What kind of measures?" I was now naked and, towel in hand, was making my way to the communal showers.

"Charlie horses, trips, stun-gun if applicable," she informed me with relish.

"You are threatening to damage my prestige," I enlightened her.

"Cáel, I was chosen for more than my martial skills. I was selected because I will not wilt before your childish ways."

"Are you a lesbian?"

"No. Why would a woman have to be a lesbian to withstand your wiles?"

"You'll figure it out eventually," I chuckled. Actually, knowing what a playboy-cad I was turned out to be a counter-intuitive edge for me. Expecting me to be a letch just meant I totally ignored the woman. Then the doubt would set in. 'Why wasn't I hitting on her?' she would think. She'd go through the phase of her not being good enough for me to knowing that wasn't the case, definitely, and would come at me to prove herself right. Wham-bam, another one in the can. Oink.

Step One: reduce the amount of time talking to her as a fellow human traveler of life. From here on out, I would address her by her name when I wanted something and otherwise treat her like furniture ~ furniture I was comfortable with. In this case, I treated her like a towel rack. She promptly dropped it. That was okay, I was planning to get dressed wet anyway.

I rinsed off my hair quickly as Elsa settled underneath the showerhead beside me. As soon as I finished, she handled me a bottle of (scentless) body soap. It was probably one of those the jaguar will smell me coming ten miles away excuses Amazons used to avoid being girlie. I got my hands all sudsy and began working on her shoulders and neck from behind.

Wordlessly, Elsa followed my physical directions, allowing me to wash her arms before working my way down her back in languid, amorous circles. Around the 10th thoracic vertebrae, Elsa gave me a deep, cleansing exhalation. I dug my fingers into her taut back muscles, racking them down to her buttocks, deftly ran them along the sides of her glutes and finished up caressing them along the line between her thighs and ass.

I worked her buttocks apart, worked my fingers along her perineum, tickling the back of her labia then up, across her anus and back to her tailbone and the small of her back. A crazy idea came to me: maybe I could talk her into a tramp stamp; something like If you are reading this, know I'll kill you next. That would be so Elsa.

I lathered her ass up for another half-minute before working my way down to her thighs, starting with the hip joints and then coaxing of her parted lips. I knelt down so that I was resting on the balls of my feet. Elsa obliged me by parting her legs, standing on her toes with her feet over a foot apart, then placing her hands against the shower stall while arching her back so that her hips were thrust back.

"Oh, come on," Juanita protested. "What kind of bath is this?"

"Did you hear something?" Elsa looked down at me.

"Nope. I was focusing all of my attention on you," I smiled up at her. I was really liking the way her muscles were stressed through her exertions. I couldn't seem to pay enough attention to her robust calves. I didn't pass up the opportunity to plant gentle kisses on each cheek either.

Elsa's ankles and feet happened all too fast and the pretense of a bath was complete. She looked at me while she soaped up her breasts then let the water cascade all over her body.

"Thank you, Cáel," she gave me a regal nod of her damp head, turned and left. "Train harder for the Hunt. You are going to need every edge you can get."

"I'm stalking oysters over the weekend. They are cunning and stealthy adversaries," I replied sagely. Elsa snorted, then started toweling off as she left, going toward her own locker. I walked past my soaked towel on the floor without a single glance. Juanita stalked behind me, clearly with a lot on her mind she was now waiting for the proper moment to share. I got dressed.

"Not going to dry off?" she grumbled.

"I never use towels," I lied. "I like the rain-washed feel." By ignoring her act of defiance, I really steamed her. I wasn't done. As we headed toward the elevator, I opened up with my next jibe. Buffy really shouldn't challenge me so. I'm a past-master of dealing with clingy, bossy women.

"Regretting you made that bet?" I mused while we waited.

"What bet?" she simmered.

"The bet where you assured Buffy and whomever else was in the room that you wouldn't break down and physically harm me ~ punishing me for my wicked ways?"

"What? How did," she groused then, "You are playing me."

"Yep."

"You really are full of yourself," she seared me with her gaze.

"No, but I know what I'm good at and I'm good at frustrating women. I've been working at it for the past four years and I've got over 200 women who would agree that I'm very good at doing it."

"Why are you doing this to me? I'm on your side," she turned all pouty and hurtful.

"Because if I don't, I'll go mad, Juanita," I enlightened her. "You want to protect me, right?"

"Yes," she sensed a verbal trap. The elevator opened and we stepped in.

"See, I don't want to be protected," I started.

"That's,"

"Let me finish, please," I stopped her. She gave me the visual 'go-ahead'. "I don't want to live a life where I need to be protected. I don't want to worry that women I hang out with could be cornered by some unsavory types at an eatery because those women happen to know and like me."

"I admire what you are doing, I really do. This is not the life I wanted, though. This is not what I wanted to be doing four months after leaving college. I wanted to be some corporate worm, barely scraping by on my work reviews and being, as you said, 'a man-whore'."

"You don't have that luxury," she pointed out.

"Am I not doing my job?" I countered.

"I guess you are," she grudgingly admitted.

"Yet you feel you have the right to critique my personal life and how I approach it," I related. "I'm not beating you up by playing the I am Ishara bullshit. I certainly don't expect anyone to be grateful to me for the opportunity to be in a House. I don't because I believe that every member of House Ishara has already proven they belong here before I ever meet them. I believe in you. Sometimes I would appreciate it if my sisters would give me the same respect."

She looked away because my harpoon had struck home.

"Unlike the rest of you, I inherited my place in this madhouse. Unlike every other Amazon here, I am only a part of House Ishara because I am the choice of a thousand ancestors to be our leader. Notice that no one asked me if I wanted to do this. And I don't think I ask too much of you because frankly, there are times when I feel unworthy to be in your company."

"You are still Ishara and I must still be your guardian," she held her ground. I glared at her. She glared back. I coughed. She kept glaring.

"What's my name?"

"Oh," she shrugged. "Cáel Wakko Ishara."

"That may sound silly you to, but I have chosen the designations for myself, my First Ancestor and the Goddess for a good reason."

We rode in silence. When we got to the ground floor, we made our way to our bikes and got ready to head home.

"What is the reason?"

"To never take ourselves too seriously. The worst thing I can think to befall my House is we become as humorless as the rest of the bitches around here. 'Laugh at Death' should be our motto."

"Isn't that a bit childish?"

"Of course it is," I groaned. "You clearly haven't been paying attention to a damn thing I've been saying. I swear I'm thinking about bringing back 'National Clown Nose Day'."

"We had a 'National Clown Nose Day'?" she pedaled to keep up.

"God help me," I muttered.

(Where is my Serge?)

"You are not going to let me go through my door first?" I sighed in exasperation. Juanita insisted that she go through every door first, because today was so very different than yesterday, when I had Pamela, perhaps I protest too much.

"You have a gun," a somewhat familiar voice said from inside my/Timothy's apartment. Oh, fuck. Ya know, because Juanita was as pretty as she was lethal, which is to say 'too much for the given company'.

"Don't make any sudden moves unless you want to see it," Juanita cautioned her.

"Oh, it's okay," Odette intervened. "This is Anais Saint-Armour. She's a Mountie."

"Oh, she's on the List too," Juanita grumbled. "What has he done wrong this time?"

"Why don't you tell me who you are first?" Anais growled at Juanita while I pushed my way into the room.

"I don't like your attitude," Juanita glared.

"Anais, this is Juanita Leya Antonio Garza; she's my latest bodyguard. Juanita, this is Anais, a good friend of mine who helped save my life in Hungary when the 'terrorists' were closing in," I somewhat exaggerated,, she had helped me catch up with the rest of the team when Pamela and I got sidetracked.

"Why did he chose you?" Anais fumed. Did I mention she's insanely jealous with an aching need to know why I was marrying anyone else, but her.

"What list?" Odette proved to be on the ball.

"He didn't chose me. I volunteered for the spot."

"Buffy made an anti-girlfriend list. Elsa is on it too," I mumbled.

"I bet you did," Anais (responding to Juanita).

"It is not like that," I moved to interpose myself between my Mountie and my non-mounted (for now) guardian. "I'm on the board of directors for Havenstone now and,"

"How did that happen?" Anais turned 'The Force' on me. (That's Canadian for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, really) "You insisted (reference back in the days we were seeing one another) you were impoverished."

"I inherited it from my Father,"

"He's poor too. I ran a background check when we first started dating," Anais kept up the pressure.

"My Mother?"

"She's dead."

"Okay, it was my Father through a convoluted meandering of genetics," I went back to attempting the truth (shame on me).

"Which is it?" she glowered.

"My Father, but it's too complicated to get into now," I tried to touch her. She recoiled. She was still pissed with me.

"He's telling the truth this time," Odette rose to my defense.

"Why didn't you tell me this when you were in Hungary? For that matter, if you are rich, why didn't you use those resources to get yourself out of trouble instead of involving me?" She really was a great cop.

"I had to make a call to someone I trusted and who couldn't be traced back to me, or Havenstone, or the Irish Embassy," I fibbed.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Anais thawed somewhat.

"I believe I promised you dinner," I reminded her.

"You did."

"Where are we going?" Juanita stressed our lack of privacy.

"'We' aren't going anywhere. Ms. Anais Saint-Armour and I are going to a restaurant of her choosing. Don't worry about it. She carries a gun."

"I'm not carrying a gun," Anais torpedoed my plan.

"Where are we going?" Juanita repeated herself. I had to switch mental gears quickly to take in the new looks I was getting from Anais. I shouldn't have ignored those cues.

"I can't get around my personal security service," I sighed. Why did I give in? Anais was all about gathering evidence and then drawing conclusions from the facts in available.

I had been involved in some significant bad-assery in Europe that was way beyond anything she would have associated with the old me. Terrorist cells duking it out with me (and others) in a Budapest metro station? A rustic inn being reduced to ashes after a suspected firefight? Bomb threats? A full-scale military operation in Romania?

I had been kidnapped with a resultant massive manhunt for me then returned under highly mysterious circumstances. There had been a young girl with me, we were close for reasons not really gone into and I had saved her despite all forms of parenthood had been anathema to me.

I was a man who others deemed necessary to protect, thus a man making secretive phone calls, getting snippets of information and being involved in the deaths of way too many people to be the old, playboy me. Who had I become?

I therefore might be a man who 'needed' to marry a billionairess due to some unspeakable political reasons, not out of any romantic/sexual desire of my own. Anais knew that I was a commitment-phobe, not a gold-digger. That meant she could be involved with me without it really being cheating. I needed her help, I had reached out to her when I was in crisis and she was in the people-helping business, right?

There was clearly more evidence out there for her to discover and she had the good fortune to be able to have me in a spot where I could be interrogated.

"Where do you want to go?" I disengaged and went to my room. The door was only partially shut as I changed.

"Eleven Madison West," I was told.

"Oh," Odette cooed, "that place is expensive."

"I know," Anais remarked.

"Why did you pick it?" Odette inquired.

"To remind Cáel that meals can be very expensive." That was my 'date' reminded me that I'd cheated with her over the course of a home-cooked meal, cooked not-by-her in someone else's home. I wondered how Maya was doing.

Eleven Madison West meant I pulled out one of my Havenstone suits. They were tailored after all and I suspected that getting into this place at this time of night was going to take some charisma and finagling. Dressing as causal-me wouldn't do. When I stepped out, jaws dropped ~ I do look good all gussied up. Odette dispelled the shock by jumping into my arms.

"You look hot," she squealed. "Too bad I'm not going out with you."

"You might want to remember that," Anais griped.

"We need to stop by Havenstone so I can attempt to dress up for this affair," Juanita stated.

"How about we call in a replacement? Give you the night off?" I suggested.

"Who?"

"Chaz?"

"You want that British SSR non-commissioned officer to be your personal bodyguard for tonight? You've got balls," Juanita coughed. I took out my phone and got ready to give him a call.

"Hey, Anais, why didn't you call me to tell me you were coming over?" I carefully avoided the word 'warned' as she would take that the wrong way.

"I don't have your personal phone number. I called your home phone and got the answering service, last night and again this morning," she narrowed her eyes.

"Odette, did Timothy get lucky last night?" I looked past the Mountie.

"No. A good friend of his rolled his motorcycle and he went to the hospital to help him out," Odette shook her head. Poor Timothy. My roomie/fuck-buddy misinterpreted Anais's pique. "Timothy is gay, not a sexual enabler."

"Huh?" Juanita wondered.

"Wingman," I translated. "Sometimes the three of us go to gay clubs where I act as his wingman,"

"And they feed me to lesbians," Odette sounded enthusiastic. Thanks to me she was hardly a same-sex virgin.

"If there are three people living here and two bedrooms, who sleeps on the sofa?" Anais skewered Odette with her eyes.

"If Cáel has company and isn't sharing, I sleep with Timothy," Odette refused to wilt, or cut me some slack with Anais.

"Isn't sharing?" those ocular death orbs flicked my way.

"Hmm, if we are going to Elven Madison West, I had better make that call," I evaded. I rang Chaz.

"Nyilas," he answered. "How are you doing this evening?"

"I'm good. I have an ex-girlfriend from out of town visiting, she wants to go to a swanky place and Juanita isn't dressed for the detail so,"

"You want me to double date?"

"No, I need a bodyguard."

"You are assuming I have something appropriate to wear."

"You are British!" I protested. "Even your chicks have tuxedos."

"Very well. Will this be a personal protection detail, or close support?"

"Aahhh,"

"Close support," said Anais.

"Personal Protection," countered Juanita.

"The one most likely to save me from being stabbed with a steak knife," I muttered.

"I am not going to physically attack you," Anais simmered. Yeah, right, I had heard that one before, and not just from her.

"Personal Protection it is," Chaz informed me.

"Oh, and she's a Mountie."

"Is she armed?"

"No," I thanked the goddesses.

"Does she want to be?"

"Huh? Are you going to arm her?" I panicked.

"No. You have a NYPD liaison. Give Officer Kutuzov a call and make a formal request. If she is a law enforcement officer in good standing, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh, I can do that?, I'm not sure that's the best idea," I prevaricated.

"Man up, Nyilas," he chided me. "You should work on making it so women don't want to shoot you instead of thinking of ways to disarm them."

"Spoken like a man who wisely prefers the company of other men," I grumbled.

"Good use of the word 'wisely'. Next question: what are we using as a means of conveyance?"

"Umm,"

"I have my motorcycle," Anais was less than helpful.

"If you weren't one of the bravest human beings I'd ever met, I would determine at this moment that you are a dolt. Call Havenstone and arrange for one of those Mercedes Armored GL550s. Bring your license. I drive on the correct side of the road and I'm not keen on having a distraught paramour driving into a storefront at 80 kph."

"Man, I like the way you speak," I joked.

"I took advantage of a proper English education."

"I was joking with you."

"I know."

"Can I date your sister?" I didn't know if he had a sister, but he'd hinted there were multiple Tomorrow's out there. Anais' mood didn't improve.

"Yes. I like you. You are a good bloke."

"Does your sister know how to kill people?"

"Yes. I'd say she's relatively proficient with a variety of small arms and hand-to-hand techniques," he enlightened me.

"Just checking."

"Cáel, every woman you are interested knows how to kill people, or how to have people killed," Chaz reminded me.

"What about Odette? She's neither well connected nor lethal."

"Odette is indeed an enigma. She counters that by being well liked by people who are capable of killing others who hurt her, except where you are concerned. You live a treasured life."

"Have you made dinner reservations? If you need me for a black tie event it has to be, what is the American for it, swanky."

"That's more of a Cael/Pamela thing," I corrected him. "American's say 'high class', expensive, or 'hot spot'."

"Thanks for the update. Make those calls."

"O-kay. Will do. I'll meet you at Havenstone in thirty minutes. Does that work for you?"

"Yes. Make those calls. I'll see you at, 7:52 pm, EDT. Mark."

"Huh?"

"Goodbye Cáel," and he hung up.

"Who is this 'Chaz' character?" Anais questioned me.

"He is Color Sergeant Charles Tomorrow of the British Army's Special Reconnaissance Regiment, he's a badass and he's delicious," Odette answered for me.

"How do you know him, either of you?" came next.

"He was with," Odette began blabbing 'National Security' stuff.

"Odette, don't. Anais, he is member of the Joint International Khanate Interim Taskforce along with me. Odette helps out in an auxiliary role," I answered.

"Cáel, how did you end up doing this kind of work?" she was perplexed. "You were devoid of anything approaching civic responsibility when we were last together. Quite frankly, I didn't think you cared for anyone but yourself."

"Hey now," Odette got feisty. She was my friend after all.

"We can talk about that over dinner?" I suggested. She didn't like that answer, so I lied. "I grew up," which was what she wanted to hear. I was spared any more interrogation at the moment by the necessity of making those three phone calls. Nikita liked hearing from me again, though she was less pleased that it was official business. She did agree to contact the appropriate agency for me, despite me making it for a different female law enforcement agent.

I'd wised up about Havenstone. I called Executive services to have the car delivered to my door step. I cautioned the operative that, in my neighborhood, they might be stopped on suspicion of purchasing guns, drugs, and/or a good time. I would have the car in fifteen minutes and agreed to take the delivery driver back to work afterwards. I'd have done it even if I wasn't meeting Chaz.

At Eleven Madison West, I got a snooty 'exactly who do you think you are?' followed by 'you will be placed on the waiting list, a spot may open up around 9:50'. Was I going to inform Chaz and Anais of this? Of course not. I planned to beg like a big dog, suggest that while I was a nameless face, I actually knew people, a person, and we'd see how far that got me.

While waiting for the S U V to arrive and on the drive back to Havenstone, this is pretty much what followed:

"Do you know who was behind your father's murder yet?"

"Yes, but I can't talk about it."

"Was that the reason people are trying to kill you?"

"Yes. That and other reasons."

"What other reasons?"

"Things I can't talk about."

"Why can't you talk about it?"

"Secret society stuff ~ decoder rings, secret handshakes, writing in cyphers, holding clandestine meetings in public places after dark, and various other things world governments don't want me talking about."

"Are you pulling my leg?" I wished I was running my hands over her legs. This wasn't the time for that revelation.

"No. Most of what I am telling you is the truth."

"Were you in a shootout at the Chicago Medical Examiner's morgue?"

"Yes. I was unarmed at the time."

"Was your life in danger?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'danger'. My allies had guns and were expert shots. I was shot at, but they missed me, so I not sure how much my life was at risk."

"Can you please be serious?"

"I'm trying. You scare me."

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I only want to help." That was mostly true. She was a diligent, hard-working incorruptible public servant,well, as long as you overlooked her charging me with bestiality when she was truly pissed with me.

"I'm not afraid of you hurting me. I'm afraid for you. You are an excellent peace officer and I'm worried that you will learn too much. Then your life will be as screwed up as mine."

"I can take care of myself."

"The reality that you are going out with me unarmed speaks volumes about what you don't know, Anais."

"Don't think this line of questioning is over, Cáel."

"Don't worry. I know you are not done."

"Very well. How is your aunt?" The crab-fisherwoman, not the Irish menagerie.

"Happy as a clam, working a real job and living life on her own terms."

"Where did you go wrong?" That was a loaded question. I had to tread carefully.

"A girl humiliated me in high school. I decided to take control of my life and somehow, despite my best intentions to be an unreliable lothario, I've ended up with people closer to me than family,and this constant need for physical protection."

"Why are you engaged?" Finally, the real reason she was here. Had she come by to pick up her accoutrements, she would have been gone by the time I came home. She wanted answers, answers that allowed her to be in charge of our relationship again. It was the double-barreled impact of exceptional sex and wondering why she wasn't 'the one'.

(Me) "Are you seeing somebody?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I've answered plenty of your questions. Answer mine."

"No. Men expect too much from a career woman." Translation: 'I'm a bitch that, regardless of my dynamite looks and raunchy sex drive, repels men because I'm a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.'

"You do put your career first." Translation: 'I've totally forgotten that you are a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.' It was what she wanted to hear.

"Your turn."

"Put on your tin-foil hat. I did it to save lives in Central Asia when the anthrax strikes were going on. I have this friend over there that people listen to."

"Who? The Great Khan?"

I didn't respond which wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"How?" as in how could I possibly be good friends with the master of arguably the third or fourth most powerful nation on the face of the Earth

"That's one of those things I can't talk about."

"Do you love her?"

"I don't know. I'm lousy at relationships. I get along with her daughter. Her father wants to bury me alive in the Nevada desert. The rest of the family seems to be coming around to the idea that I might be one of them."

"That isn't a 'yes'."

"No, it isn't."

"Do you think you can ever love someone?" If you need translated, sigh, okay, 'why don't you love me?'

"Do you mean 'when am I going to stop stumbling from botched relationship to botched relationship and make something constructive of my personal life?'"

"Yes."

"Did I mention that I've discovered I have a grandfather?"

"No. That isn't answering my question."

"It is in a way. Did I mention that Mom had ten sisters I wasn't aware of? I had an uncle, but he died in my arms."

"No. My condolences on your uncle. What does this have to do with you becoming more of an adult and becoming accountable for your life?"

"Did I mention I have an adopted grandmother who is my spiritual twin?"

"No."

"Don't worry about my uncle. He died trying to kill me. My aunts murdered him, though I can never prove it."

"Oh."

"My grandfather? He was the one who sent those terrorists to kill me. It was his litmus test to see if I was worthy of being in his family. I passed."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. My spiritual grandma? She's a retired professional assassin. Daily I interact with a half-dozen people who have killed multiple human beings in their lifetimes. You want to know why I'm not behaving responsibly? I am acting responsibly. I'm trying to not get the decent civilians around me killed."

She took awhile digesting that. By that time, we had returned to Havenstone and picked up Chaz. I made introductions.

"So, are you really with the SRR?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Why are you with Cáel?"

"My mandate contains multiple answers. Suffice it to say, since my RAF contemporary will not be returning from the UK until tomorrow, I am presently chief liaison officer for Her Majesty's government with JIKIT."

"Why are you coming along as Cáel’s bodyguard? Don't you have something better to do with your Friday evenings?" Subtle and polite, Anais ain't. Why was I putting up with her? She was a sexual tornado who would try anything once. She was a real prize.

"First question: Cáel is a friend, his life is in perpetual danger and I consider it my duty to keep him alive. He would do the same for me. Second question: the nature of my present assignment doesn't leave much room for any meaningful romantic associations."

"Hmm," I contemplated what wasn't being said. "Chaz, you are nailing one of my security chicks, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"A man of character doesn't brag about such things."

Chaz was getting some Amazon nookie. I had to find a way to tell him how dangerous that was. She might decide he's make good father material, not a good thing where Amazons were concerned.

"Are all of his security personnel women?" Anais pressed.

"Miss Saint-Amour, Havenstone is a corporation that employs over ten thousand people. There are precisely five men currently on their payroll. All their security personnel are woman. Cáel has very limited, if any, input on the matter."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, Miss Saint-Amour. Who would trust a man of Cáel’s dubious experience with his own security?" Chaz pointed out.

"Oh." She hadn't thought of that.

"Can you tell me why you think his life is in danger?"

"He is far more likely to be kidnapped than murdered. He possess certain sensitive data that powerful entities would like to access, thus I am his bodyguard tonight. Considering the quality of the women who normally guard him, I consider it an honor."

"To guard Cáel, on a date?"

"He was kidnapped visiting a child at a playground. Yes, we believe his life is in constant peril. The training and experience of his security service is top flight and it has been a pleasure to serve among them."

"Were you with him in Budapest and Romania?"

"The metro station?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Romania?"

"Do you mean the counterterrorism action south of Miercurea Ciuc?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Wow, these two were lousy communicators. I could imagine Chaz propositioning one of my Amazons.

Chaz: 'You have a superior feminine physique which I find appealing. Want to fuck?'

Amazon: 'You look like you have the prerequisite stamina and battle scars to be part of the New Directive. Sure.'

"Were you involved in the actual combat? The SRR is normally an intelligence gathering unit."

"I was gathering battlefield intelligence, Miss. That required my close proximity to armed and actively hostile enemy aliens (as in they were in Romania illegally, not that they were all supernatural beings). My involvement resulted in two KIA's and one WIA."

"Damn Chaz, you rock."

"I am a professional."

"How many did Pamela gak?"

"One KIA."

"Just one? Whoa, that's so unlike her."

"She kept trying to bracket the cell leader (aka Ajax). He had the Devil's Own Luck."

"Cáel, why are you making light of all those deaths?" Anais chastised me. "How many terrorists did you wound, or kill?"

"I wounded one guy."

"That is disingenuous," Chaz chided me. "You orchestrated the operation, showed tactical expertise in seizing the most critical terrain feature and engineered the death of the terrorist leader."

"My Cáel did that? When I knew him, he was adverse to violence," Anais shook her head.

"Considering the considerable number of people he's killed, he's still adverse to physical confrontation where his own life is involved. But God help you if you threaten someone he is close to, though. He's the man who can get things done when the team is in a pinch."

"Cáel, what happened to you?" she didn't sound upset at all.

"I learned to care for people beyond my immediate interest, you know, actual long-term relationships," with the unspoken 'as opposed to women I'm currently having sex with'.

"It took you long enough," she snipped. Reference her being a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.

The interrogation was put on hold while we entered the restaurant and,

"Mr. Nyilas?" the maytre dee greeted me.

"Yes."

"We will get you a table right away," he nodded obsequiously. What the hell was up with that? Where was my two hour wait time? Oh yeah, I was a minor, fifteen seconds of fame celebrity.

"Will Ms. Sulkanen be joining you this evening?"

"No. She had to oversee a packaged Erythrosine-monosaccharides explosion in Boca Raton. Flaming plastic pink flamingo bits were raining down everywhere. I imagine it is taking an Everest-sized load of hush money to keep this out of the media," I replied. I was so eerily sincere, he bought it and a look of horror snuck over his face. I had become the public face of corporate malfeasance.

"Your table (gulp) is ready, Sir," he began to sweat. He took us to our table for four then beat a hasty retreat. Undoubtedly his civic-mindedness would have him calling up TMZ within a minute. After all, it was unlikely he owned any plastic pink flamingos, or invested in their construction. Once he was gone, Chaz let a thin smile break through his hard-earned military unfazed-ability.

"What exactly are packaged Erythrosine-monosaccharides?" he inquired.

"Packaged is self-explanatory. Erythrosine is pink food coloring and monosaccharides are,"

"Sugar," Anais frowned.

"Exploding pixie sticks, I have nieces and nephews. You are a genius at misdirection, Mr. Nyilas," he nodded.

"Thank you, Color Sergeant Tomorrow. It is nice to be appreciated for my bizarre and useless preoccupation," I grinned.

"You practice lying?" Anais' view of me dimmed.

"Miss, he excels at extraneous, outrageous utterances. No harm is intended."

"Things like I was helping her find her contact lenses?" That had been my excuse when caught coming out of Maya's apartment. Sadly, Anais is highly perceptive and knew the lady didn't wear contacts. The copious female aroma wafting off me certainly hadn't helped.

"That's unfair," I countered. "Back then, I was a college nitwit suffering from undiagnosed nymphomania. I'd like to think I'm getting better."

" tes-vous mieux?" she retorted in French.

"Je suis assez intelligent pour aller vers vous lorsque des vies  taient sur la ligne." That's right, Anais. When my life and the lives of others were on the line, she was the first one I thought to call. Letting a woman know that you admire her profession, professionalism and reliability never hurts.

"Are you really a nymphomaniac?" she returned to English. French is the language of sex, as is any derivative of Sanskrit, Farsi and Portuguese. Reference the multitude of Indians, the hotness of Persian women and the outpouring of lust that is Brazil.

"I had a magnetoencephalography recently. The neuroscientists didn't know what to make of my brain patterns. I appear to be somewhat unique in my madness."

She didn't believe me. I didn't blame her. No one really likes hearing a truth they don't want to accept.

"Here," I leaned forward and pointed to the tiny divot in my forehead. "I was stabbed with a needle in the skull. That is why they looked at me, not because of my sexual malfunction."

She touched it to makes sure. We were interrupted by the waiter stopping by to see if we were ready to order yet.

"We will have three of the most expensive appetizers, dinners, deserts and wines," Anais preempted us. Ugh. I was either a millionaire by the wonders of Havenstone accounting, or broke. I foolishly never looked into such things, never having had much money before. I needed a distraction.

"Hey Chaz, nice suit," was what came to mind. It was a swell masterpiece of the tailoring arts I hadn't expect from a ground-pounder from a family of ground-pounders serving Queen and Country for generations.

"Thank you. Pamela picked it out for me, suspecting an event such as this would transpire. She told me you paid for it," Chaz answered.

"I did?"

"I made the reasonable deduction that she forged your signature on whatever medium was used for payment," he shrugged, "in the same way she exhibits a criminal tendency toward every other aspect of her life."

"What does Pamela look like?" Anais glowered.

"She's his grandmother," Chaz responded politely. "They make quite the pair. Normally we don't let them alone in the same room. Bad things happen."

"Bad things?"

"Things like that scenic hostel being reduced to ruin," he enlightened her.

"This is the supposed assassin?"

"Retired assassin," Chaz corrected her. "So far she's only, what is the term you two use?" he looked at me.

"Sending a Get-Well card to their next of kin? Pumping up the volume? Making a critical attitude adjustment? Retroactively revoking their lease on life? We have a few."

"Yes, those. Pamela has assured the team director that she no longer accepts assignments of a murderous nature. These days she only practices her skills on those we determine are a threat to the greater endeavor," he explained.

"She murders people? You all murder people?" Anais furrowed her brow. "Cáel, do you engage in these activities?"

"What? Who? Me? No!" I waved off any conspiratorial associations. "The vast majority of people I've killed was totally by accident."

"How do you accidently kill people?" she pierced my soul with her voice.

"Okay, I let them kill themselves because warning them would have resulted in me and some friends meeting very immediate violent ends," I pleaded.

"Miss Saint-Amour, I've talked to trustworthy people who were on the scene when this happened. It was a paramilitary action with the lives of children on the line. Cáel acted to save the lives of innocents," Chaz defended me. That is what Anais wanted to believe; that I was basically a decent human being. I was a pig, but a courageous one. I had confronted her after my infidelity, on the other side of the US/Canadian border where her jurisdiction didn't apply.

I knew my revelations were hideously hard to believe. In my favor, I had been in dangerous places doing dangerous things. The Metro firefight had been captured on the place's security system (which had been leaked to the public thus leading to some delusional admirers into thinking I would make a great new King of Hungary even though they hadn't had a monarch since 1918 nor was I from the right (Hapsburg) family. In case this whole Havenstone thing came crashing down in flames, I needed to keep my options open).

There had been a bomb threat at Mindszent which I had reputable sources call in (and where I had admittedly hung out with a few of the women who saved me from an earlier disaster) and Miercurea Ciuc had made the international news. Well over 100 people had died and some of the terrorists were still at large. The Romanian government declared I had been 'instrumental' in the confrontation without saying what 'instrumental' meant.

I was heroically vague, more mature than where we left off and clearly incited pussy-twitching memories. We'd once fucked so continuously hard and long one weekend that neither one of us could stand until an hour after we stopped. Anais was well worth the pain I was contemplating. Sex with her wasn't the pain I was worried about. It was dodging all her calls afterwards. Once again reference her being a compulsive control freak with abysmal trust issues.

Oh, how did I know she was reveling in our past coital moments? She hadn't walked out on me yet. She hadn't walked out when she found Odette in my domicile, when she met Juanita, or when she found out that I worked with highly experienced killers as part of my new daily routine.

Normally Anais was smarter than this and had a career in law enforcement to contemplate. Lastly, she hadn't asked to be armed, despite getting permission from the NYPD. Had she decided to get a gun, Anais was sure in her hormonally-cascading mindset she would have shot me by now. I incite all kinds of passion in women. It is a curse.

The rest of dinner was unremarkable. Anais continued to interrogate Chaz who proved that he was both skilled in counter-interrogation techniques and not willing to spill anymore secrets about what anyone at JIKIT did. However he had provided her with every logical reason to beat feet back across the Canadian border and she hadn't taken the hints about what a disaster sleeping with me could be.

We drove Anais back to her motel, then Chaz and I headed home in silence. Despite his earlier declarations, he knew how to drive the 'right' way all along. As he was letting me out in front of my building, he gave me this pleasant warning.

"I'm not going to lecture you about not going back there, or avoiding the crazy ones. You already know better and are going back by her place anyway. I do advise that whatever you do, don't let her restrict your movements in any way. She's likely to make you pay double for your past indiscretions and take payment out on your cock. Good luck, Mate."

"Wait," I stopped him. "Can you help me hotwire her bike? I can use that as an excuse to darken her doorway."

"Dolt," he muttered. He helped me anyway because that's what really good friends do ~ assisting you in your self-destruction so we could joke about it later. At least that was what I hoped was going on. Chaz being a closet sadist was an unsettling idea. I didn't get to immediately pursue my plan because,

(We work for you, don't we?)

At 9 am, the President of the United States of America, after a late night briefing and a good night's sleep, decided that for the sake of world peace he had to intervene in Southeast Asia ~ Thailand to be specific, though he had some vague notion that a summit of regional leaders was in the offing and the US needed to establish some sort of game plan instead of looking impotent and disinterested.

Based on carefully selected bits of information supplied to him by us (JIKIT), he ordered two carrier taskforces to move to the Gulf of Thailand to enforce an anticipated UN arms embargo and 'No-Fly Zone'. It would take four days (September 3rd) for Carrier Strike Group Nine (built around the USS Ronald Reagan) and the 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit (2,200 souls) to take up a position in the South China Sea close to the Gulf of Thailand. By fortuitous circumstance, 500 Marines and sailors were already deployed to Malaysia on a joint training mission with the Malaysian Marines.

The second one, the USS Carl Vinson's Carrier Strike Group One wouldn't arrive until the 9th, six days later. What the US government wanted to know was what the Khanate and Vietnam would do in those long, lonely six days. The Khanate had as many modern, up-to-date combat aircraft on Woody Island as the Reagan could send up. The Vietnamese could add another 48 planes worth worrying about.

There was the added complication that Thailand hadn't asked for help yet. His experts (us again) were suggesting that he was about to wake up one morning and find Khanate tanks rolling down the streets of Bangkok, which would leave little time for anything but a quick exit to the closest airport and flight from the country for our people there. Then, God-forbid, democracy would break out, regime change would be enacted and the Khanate would rack up another regional ally.

Apparently someone along the line had edited that part of the info feed where the Khanate actually liked the US and would have gladly worked with them/us to bring this about. By the Great Khan's thinking, the more power you brought to the initial strike, the fewer people would actually die. Closer to the issue was that the Khanate had no reason to expect the US to intervene. Not only did it run contrary to the Administration's willingness to do nothing, they had no forces in place to influence the Khanate's capability to intervene.

The answer to this conundrum was simple to me/Alal. The US had three regional allies: the Philippines, the Republic of China and to a lesser degree, Malaysia. The Philippines was sitting there, ready and willing to contribute all of her airfields for the use of the US Army and Air Force. North of them was the Republic of China, another long-time ally. Malaysia didn't have a long history of being pro-US, but they were major opponents of the Khanate's rise to prominence in Southeast Asian affairs.

Our President's problem was that allies take convincing and kinda/sorta expect something in return for being your buddies, and it just so happened all three had pressing issues the US could help with. That would be the Spratly and Parcel Island, in case someone hadn't been paying attention to the Khanate's diplomatic wrangling post-ceasefire. The Khanate, India, Vietnam and the ROC had divided up the Parcels in a treaty that no one else was planning to accept (though only the PRC was getting shafted).

Taiwanese President Ma Ying-jeou was going to provide his air force, navy and air bases and all Obama had to do was give a nod to a key factor in future Taiwanese economic prosperity which would involve the US President helping out in the ass-raping of China, but really 'just a little bit'. Taiwan was ready to do all the heavy lifting (aka, kicking the Asian Colossus when it was down.) Once this Thailand debacle was over, they'd cuddle back up with the Khanate because that would really help their territorial ambitions.

President Benigno Aquino the 3^rd, of the Philippines had his own niggling problem, called the Spratly Islands and the treaty the Khanate was trying to bring about there. And the Khanate (Amazons actually) had captured all the PRC bases and outposts in that island group. And it would really be nice if the US would step up and back the healthy claims his proud, but impoverished homeland was trying to enforce. They had a chance to exploit the vast wealth in and under the South China Sea and they were more than willing to let the US use all their bases as they brought about a renewed peace in the Southeast Asian theater.

Peace in the South China Sea? Without consulting China? You know, getting involved. Yeah, that meant ships in 'harm's way', 'boots on the ground' and arming all those expensive fighters with air-to-air missiles because they might really need them. No, the revolution going on in Thailand wasn't going to be solved with another series of drone strikes, Tomahawks and air sorties from 5000 meters up.

Some talking heads in the Pentagon thought that the 42 F A 18 fighters on the Reagan would be able to handle themselves because the Khanate had never had to play in the Big League. The majority of analysts had a slightly grimmer picture of things. The Khanate had 42 fighters just as good as the F A 18 in the Woody Islands plus 16 advanced, supersonic bombers equipped with anti-ship missiles, just ask the survivors of the PLAN carrier Liaoning.

The Khanate also had 120 combat aircraft in southern China that could be prepared for operations in the Thailand within 24 hours. Satellite reconnaissance had revealed the Khanate's formidable aerial logistics were up and running around the clock, moving stores to the Laotian/Thai border. There were another 860 fighters and combat drones in theater that could be brought to bear given a week or two. That was firepower two carriers couldn't hope to match.

Then there was the fact that US and NATO combat troops were still in the process of evacuating from Afghanistan. Could they defeat the chaotic and disorganized Afghan Army? Yes, but then what? The Khanate had already moved two Tumens into the country and those would be much harder nuts to crack, plus the Khanate was operating within 1000 km of their logistical base. The Coalition would have to fly in supplies from Pakistan, if the Pakistanis felt like upsetting the Khanate, which was another great unknown.

What this meant was President Obama was getting conflicting advice. The Secretary of State felt the US had to do something and, after reading an abridged version of our report (groan) and consulting with the UK, decided that harsh language would have null effect on Khanate aggression. In the very short term, getting the UN to do anything was complicated by the majority of nations not acknowledging the Khanate's existence.

An even greater disaster came from the Right Honorable Phillip Hammond, UK's Secretary of State, who suggested that it was not in his nation's interests to publically oppose the Khanate considering his nation's public's displeasure with a dictator gunning down unarmed protestors in the street. Human Rights groups in the UK were already confronting the horror of praising a military solution to the Thai's civil rights woes. It was echoes of Tibet all over again.

In addition to that, in response to feelers made by his (deep breath) Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs (my old buddy D.R. Russel) and Assistant Secretary for South and Central Asian (another one of my fans at State, R.O. Blake) (exhale) to the Khanate's allies (India and Vietnam), had them accusing the US of retreating to the Cold War policy of supporting repressive regimes. The evaporation of overseas political clout had Secretary Kerry feeling it was time for the United States to wield the 'Big Stick', a show of force without a commitment to really do anything.

The holder of the 'Big Stick', Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel, was hedging his bets. His subordinates were optimistic they could do something while wanting to know precisely what it was they were expected to do. It wasn't like there was a coherent Southeast Asian policy that actually factored in the titanic shifts in power (aka the Indian/Khanate/Vietnamese Alliance) over the past two months to examine.

The US Navy? Hadn't Hagel once suggested that the US Navy be reduced to only eight carrier groups? His Admirals were saying 'yes, we can' and 'but if we do, we won't be able to meet other security obligations'. Basically a 'we told you so'. The Khanate might not be a naval power, but they could project military influence into the Mediterranean, the Middle East and the South China Sea, all at the same time.

They also wanted to know why they couldn't use the 7th Fleet, the one in Japan, who also had Carrier Strike Group Five built around the George Washington, and could be there in only four days. What about the George H. W. Bush's Carrier Strike Group Two in the Persian Gulf? They could be there off the western coast of Thailand in four days as well.

What the admirals were stressing was that the Khanate didn't know this was empty posturing. It was their branch of service that was on the line if the Khanate decided they didn't like being threatened and this whole debacle ended up a warzone. Supercarriers carried 3,700 human beings, cost over $10 billion each and took seven years to complete. They had precisely one in the works, and it wasn't due to be commissioned until 2016.

Hagel shook his head. He couldn't leave Wacky Cousin Kim (Kim Ju-un of North Korea) alone with poor, little South Korea, not with him having half of his army mobilized. Japan was already going to have kittens over the carriers not coming their way. Didn't they know that there was going to be war in the Yellow Sea in only six months, and the Yellow Sea was a major trade conduit to that island nation?

CTG Five was busy fulfilling President Obama's pledge to do something about ISIS's campaign against the Kurds and Yazidi. He didn't want to have the world believe the US Navy could only handle one task at a time. Finally, the admirals suggested that knowing precisely what the ROC's navy was going to be doing was necessary. Also of some pressing need was understanding just what (and when) the Air Force would be bringing into this potentially catastrophic operation.

The US Air Force was more positive about their role in things. After all, the Khanate couldn't 'sink' the Philippines and the ROC had over 200 advanced fighter of their own to protect their air bases. In three days they could have two squadrons (roughly 40 aircraft), the 19th and 199th Squadrons, ready to go.

If they couldn't access Philippine, or Taiwanese bases? Their fighters couldn't fly all the way from Guam unassisted, but if the Navy promised to protect their bombers and air refuelers, they could be used from the comfort of Californian airfields. Would they have to fly airlift capabilities for the Army and Marine Corps? No problem as long as the Navy did their jobs. Lastly, the F-22 Raptor had never been in combat before and the Air Force generals were curious about just how good it was. There was one, tiny, problem.

One side of the Air Force conversation

By the way Sir, the F-22 has a combat radius of 760 kilometers, so they actually couldn't do anything to anyone unless they were in some place closer, like Sultan Ismail Petra Airport.

That is in Malaysia, Sir.

Yes Sir, we are aware we don't have a status of forces agreement with the Malaysians. Isn't that the State Department's job?

What about the Woody Islands? We don't own the Woody Island.

Oh, you mean 'can we escort a strike against it'. No Sir. That is 1250 km away from Taiwan. Besides, Sir, the F-22 is not a strike fighter.

From the Philippines? That would be over a 1000 km. Still too far away.

Yes, of course we have other fighters. The F-15E is an excellent aircraft!

Well, we aren't using it because it is not configured as an air-superiority fighter. For that we need the F-15C/D. Since we can't use any of the ones in Japan, we can either fly them in from England, yes Sir, Europe's England, or we can activate the 194th Fighter Squadron of the California Air National Guard.

You don't want to use the Air National Guard? Ah, Sir, then we have a problem. The 199th Squadron is part of the Hawaiian Air National Guard.

Sir, in our considered opinion, the 19th Squadron might not be up to the task all by themselves. Are you sure we can't use some planes from Japan?

No Sir. We need the Hawaiian's, because they have the F-22, the planes we designed for air superiority missions.

Well Sir, we could use the F-15E's in that role, but we are worried they might not be better than projected opposition fighters.

Yes Sir, that means we could expect some of them to be shot down.

Yes Sir. That could get quite expensive.

We could launch a preemptive strike.

Yes Sir, we are pretty sure that would be construed as an Act of War as well. We don't have to go after all three of them. Perhaps if we didn't go after the Indians they would take the hint and leave.

It would make us look bad? Sir, I am more worried about how bad dead US servicemen and women look. Don't you think,

Yes Sir, we know we implement policy, not create it.

Okay Sir. After all, the Khanate might not know about the F-22's range issues. Maybe they don't have an effective intelligence network or (mutters) access to Wikipedia.

The Marine Corps?

'500 Marines on site and 1700 Marines on the way; fit, rested and ready, Sir'. Where do you want us to go?'

'Do we have any idea about the level of opposition, the amount of time this mission will take and what precisely we are going to be required to do?' '

What else could the Commandant say? The other six M E U were too far away to affect the nine-day timetable. The Marine Air components would do their job, even if clearly outnumbered. His one voiced concern was for the possible reception his Marines would receive from the Thai people. Apparently the current dictator wasn't terribly popular, and was gunning down his own people in the streets. Things like that were hard on his men's morale.

The Army?

What exactly do you want us do again?

Go into a potential 'hot' warzone where the safety of deployment as well resupply were clearly debatable?

That's why God made Rangers. The Airborne would arrive once all the real fighting was accomplished anyway and, now that they were getting out of Afghanistan, they had someplace new to send their overworked reservists. They could deploy the 1st Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne to the Philippines, provided they were welcome.

Unlike the US Navy, who expected their ships to sail around ready for a fight, the US Army would need to access extra funding for this deployment. They also wanted the President's written authorization to fly 'their' (actually the Air Force's) MC-130's into forward bases that existed within a 10 minute fly time of potentially hostile borders.

With no clear operational objectives, limited intelligence on enemy forces and absent an exit strategy, the Joint Chiefs weren't fans of intervention. Yes, they did know this was a bluff. But they were paid to plan for the contingency that this bluff was called and they were expected to take this showdown to the level of a true confrontation if that occurred. Lives were at stake.

With that kind of advice, Hagel deferred his support for this endeavor by laying it all on Secretary Kerry's lap. His troopers would go in, if they had the proper regional support. Kerry told the President that he could get that support if he made some backroom deals with the Malaysia, the ROC and the Philippines, most likely to screw over China in some manner. The Administration could renege later, sighting a mutable geopolitical landscape.

At that point the National Security Advisor, Susan Rice, rallied to POTUS's side and put forth into his mind the gem of an idea that if the US acted decisively, there would be no need for fighting. After all, she had this 'hand-picked' team of intelligence experts who had an in depth knowledge of the Khanate's leadership. The Khanate wasn't a terrorist organization and could be dealt with rationally ~ she'd read our reports! Sadly she had decided to cherry-pick what she wanted to pass on.

We in JIKIT were wondering why she had decided to not recall what else we had warned her about ~ you know: the Khanate not respecting the current administration and doubting its resolve. JIKIT had told her to use overwhelming force. Feeding them one aircraft carrier at a time was the opposite of that.

The Khanate wasn't likely to attack one carrier. A) they doubted the US Navy was feeling particularly suicidal, B) they already believed that if the US hit first, they certainly could flatten that carrier and its supporting ships, and C) if the US appeared to be becoming problematic, the Khanate would strike first and hard.

Did the Khanate believe their planes and missiles were so good that they could penetrate the impenetrable barrier that surrounded a US taskforce?

Perhaps. They had fucked the PLAN pretty hard, striking at a greater distance with less preparation. Why didn't our political bosses see that?

Fathom told me it was information overload. We were providing so much data that the people on top couldn't possibly know everything.

Someone in Washington forgot to put that into the National Security briefing that the National Security Advisor gave the President that the Khanate had captured a series of Chinese missiles in Western China, and not just the nuclear ones. Some of those captured missiles were an advanced Chinese design with a suspected range of 3500 km. It was a freaking intermediate-range ballistic missile! That bitch could hit Mach 10, and it could be steered, and it was radar seeking.

Why had IRBM anti-ship missiles been in Western (as opposed to being on the coast in Eastern China)? To hit targets in the Arabian Sea and the Persian Gulf, Duh! That was the kind of range we were talking about. JIKIT teams had aided in the capture of those weapons and the Khanate had confirmed it. We were their friends and that's how they treated their friends, with honesty. Like a good little minion, Addison had passed that knowledge on.

At the same time, the 16 Tu-160M supersonic bombers presently sitting on the tarmac on Woody Island could scramble and then launch 12 advanced anti-ship missiles, each. I was sure that the navy's Aegis-cruisers were the best money could buy. Expecting them to handled 192 incoming 'vampires' (military jargon for the 'shit trying to kill us') sea-skimming their way at Mach 5 was probably asking too much.

I couldn't claim to divine the inner workings of the President of the United State's mind, but personally I believed he said 'what the fuck. I can always call them back later', forgetting the Khanate's willingness to launch a preemptive strike when it suited their purpose.

Or, the far more likely outcome that we (the US) would be utterly ignored in front of the world-wide media because the Khanate was ruled by military men who took into account what their troops could and couldn't do before making politically-based military decisions.

Could their actions lead to war? Perhaps. When you picked up the sword, expect violence. Could the US beat the Khanate? Perhaps, if the US people had the will to continue fighting long enough. The will of a people to persevere was a great unknown. The US had been underestimated before.

What was known was the US was running a $400 Billion Budget Deficit, carrying over $18 trillion in debt and we were a consumer-driven, service economy utterly dependent on foreign trade. The US did have the world's best military, but they weren't designed to be an army of conquest. They'd been stretched thin occupying Iraq and Afghanistan. The ability of our military to replace both people and equipment was limited by high production costs, a long season of peace and a casualty-averse populace.

The Khanate was a resource-driven economy which meant other countries needed the raw materials they were selling. They were hardly an internally independent entity and they appreciated their own trade vulnerability. A big difference was they were ruled by a leadership that fully expected to spend a generation in bloodletting to reconstitute their vanished empire. Their infant nation was already in a war economy. Their people were awake to the cost to citizenry in their state and aware there would be a physical cost for achieving security for those who would follow.

In the end, I believed the US President was aware of both of the above series of facts, but decided his 'there is nothing I can do' policy was way down in the public opinion polls, domestic prices were roller-coasting and there was a mid-term Congressional election right around the corner.

Peace had not broken out across the globe as he had hoped, Islamophobia was a dirty little secret walking the back halls of the temples of power and Osama Bin Laden had only been replaced by a far more insidious foe of the New World Order. The raging currents of the present reality were about to reduce him to a footnote in history and in the land where legacy mattered, that was something too horrible to contemplate.

Then he caged his decisive 'Do it!' with a suggestion that Susan make sure her experts thought this was a viable idea. Talk about passing the buck. The buck landed in Tony Blinken's (Deputy National Security Advisor (DNSA)) lap and he called us, Addison really, but she had all of us in pretty quick. I didn't have to delve into the deep, mystic thoughts of Temujin to know how to answer that question: 'Don't do it!'

'What is in it for them?'

Tony: 'Nothing, of course. We are the United-Fucking States! Oh, and the Great Khan is a bad guy. Worse, he's unpalatable to anyone who considers Human Rights to be a priority.'

'That's not going to fly. They've got the chance to secure their flanks and get good PR in the process.'

Tony: 'Fine. Can you find a way to hold them off for four days? That's all we need.'

'Four days? What happens in four days?'

Tony: 'You don't need to know that. Get it done.'

'That's not how it works. They aren't relying on us to be their intelligence resource. You are.'

Tony: 'Fine. Tell them we are moving forward with an effort in the UN to bring about a peaceful democratic regime change.'

'Do you really expect them to care? Wait, you do realize they have satellite reconnaissance, don't you?'

At that point in our encrypted conversation with Addison, she began doing some intelligence research of her own. The US had only two tools in their immediate toolbox: missile/drone strikes and carrier deployments. Wrangling UN sanctions and the War Powers Act would take time and we'd see it coming.

Drone/missile strikes weren't ruled out, but the Khanate didn't play the 'only tit-for-tat' game. You attack them, or their logistics, and they took that as an act of war and behaved accordingly. There were plenty of US military bases they could strike. Plus the US needed the free flow of commerce through the South China Sea, not the Khanate.

The Mongol-Turkish regime could turn that body of water into an 'Exclusion Zone'. That was the term for a blockade which, in turn was a euphemism for the Khanate giving fair warning to all merchant ships they could be fired upon at a moment's notice. Ships flying the Indian, Japanese, ROC, South Korean or Vietnamese ensign would be okay. They were either allies, or potential allies.

Panama? Liberia? The Marshal Islands? The Khanate had more pressing things to do than worry about what those little nations (and their combined 40% of the world's merchant ships) cared about them. Next question: how much was that baby insured for? I was sure the guys and gals at Lloyd's of London would be buying Pepto in bulk if this came down to seeing who was the biggest bully on the block.

Sure this was in the short term very bad for the Khanate ~ getting in a shooting war with the US. It was ugly in the mid-term as well ~ the US was the world's leading economic power. In the long term, which was how the Great Khan thought, it was the only thing he could do. He could not let the US think they could dictate Khanate international relations without serious consequences. It wasn't how the Khanate operated. We all hoped the people around the President understood that.

'You are not going to launch drone strikes, are you? They would see that as an act of war and behave accordingly.'

Tony: 'We are keeping our options open.' A 'no comment' would have meant 'yes'.

Addison mouthed to me 'Thank God'.

That left the carrier fleet deployment option. We guessed, incorrectly, that the US was going to place four carrier groups on the Khanate's back door. That would be drawing a line in the sand. None of us believed the US government would ever be foolish enough to come in with only one carrier, that they would leave the one in Japan and the Arabian Sea just sitting there. The US Navy posted on its web page the general position and activity of her various fleet elements. It was general knowledge.

'You can't possibly move in enough forces in place to deter them, Sir.'

Tony: 'You need to find us a way to delay the Khanate by two weeks. You are the experts, do it!'

'Two weeks, what happened to the four days?'

Tony: 'You work for me.'

'Very well, Sir. We suspect the Khanate will intervene in Thailand somewhere between five and seven days. Waiting two weeks is unrealistic.'

'If the US and UN declare Thailand a 'No-Fly Zone', what is the likelihood they will respect it?'

'Zero, zip, none. How could you possibly enforce that? You can't and they know it.'

Tony: 'Yes we can. Would they challenge it?'

'Well, if you bring the 'George H. W. Bush' into the Andaman Sea, won't that piss of the Indians, and leave the Persian Gulf unguarded and ISIS unmolested?'

The 'George H. W. Bush' was in the Persian Gulf and would have to sail around India (passed Indian's submarine fleet) to get into a position to intervene from a body of water the Indian's considered theirs and theirs alone. We all knew President Obama had made a policy decision in the first part of August to punish ISIS and save the Kurds and Yazidis. Would he go back on that pledge?

Tony: 'You don't need to know that.'

'If we don't know the level of the threat, we can't tell you what the most likely response will be.'

Tony: 'What would they do if we placed one carrier in the Gulf of Thailand? Two, three, four, or five?'

'One, two, they do nothing. You would need to form an alliance with at least one other regional player, that isn't the Philippines.'

Tony: 'What is wrong with the Philippines?'

'They have hardly any air force and blue-water navy to speak of.'

Tony: 'What about the Republic of China?'

'They are a totally different matter, but what are you giving the Taiwanese to betray the Khanate? The Khanate has recognized the independence of the ROC while we haven't. They've fought China while you haven't. It had better be something good.'

Tony: 'What about Malaysia?'

'The Khanate and Malaysia aren't getting along right now. They complicate their pugnacious attitude by being somewhat weak in the matter of offensive forces they can bring to bear. Their military is good, and small. What would you want them to do?'

Tony: 'That is not your concern.'

'Sir, if you begin opening negotiations with Taiwan, or Malaysia, the Khanate is going to find out. (Probably from us.) That's a fact.'

Tony: 'This is not your concern. Our East Asian experts know what's going on.'

'What about the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 with the Collins Amendment?'

Tony: 'What about it?'

'If the administration would express support for it, it would go a long way to solving all your problems. Let the Taiwanese and Turkey buy those frigates and make it contingent on their goodwill.'

Tony: 'What does this have to do with the Khanate?' Groan.

 To be continued.

By FinalStand for Literotica.