Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 8

Hell Rains Down.

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

 Would you choose ephemeral beauty, or rugged determination?

 Brief Segway :

Senator Susan Collins of Maine, JIKIT's Congressional mentor, at our urging had proposed an amendment to the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 which would allow 'Turkey' to purchase six 'Oliver Perry class frigates for $10 million each. The same act already proposed four such vessels to be sold to Taiwan for the same amount as well as giving two to Thailand (and two to Mexico) free of charge.

Things had immediately bogged down in the 113th US Congress. It was too easy for Democrats in both Houses to take the President's position that any additional weapons into the South China Sea area would further destabilize the region. The pro-PRC lobby was equally opposed to the bill. Under normal conditions, that would have been good enough to send the measure off to the procedural graveyard.

Except in the current contrary nature of the US's chief legislative body, this meant Republicans found themselves drawn to the anything the White House opposed. They could claim they found the anti-Communist, anti-Islamic Extremists stance of the Khanate to be attractive to them though none of them felt the need to actually talk to anyone in the Khanate to find out what they were really all about.

We were happy with that policy because true congressional oversight was the last thing we needed. They might start asking uncomfortable questions like...

'Who gave you the authority to do any of the crap you pulled?'

(No one. We lied like big dogs, purloined resources and cloaked ourselves in 'National Security'. Plus we let our elite personnel have a crack at doing what they had so dedicatedly trained to do, wreck things.)

'Wasn't that, that, and that an act of war against the People's Republic of China?'

('No comment'. If that didn't work, we would try 'they will never find out'.)

'Why are 90% of all the names on these documents redacted? We are the freaking Congress! You work for us.'

(Work for them? Not to our way of thinking. We earned our paychecks without any slavish devotion to corporate campaign contributions. We were working so that the lives of Americans and Brits abroad would be that much safer, the world more orderly and for the US and UK to have an ally they could really rely on. We couldn't tell them that. They'd throw us in jail. We'd redacted the records because the names were for people that did not officially exist, or existed in a capacity that didn't imply they were elite warriors, spies and assassins.)

Besides,

('Those are private citizens not in the employ of this group, or any other government agency we are aware of'.)

'We don't care if they are private citizens. We want to know.'

('You don't want to know' followed by some major gobbledygook with the term 'deniable assets' interspersed relatively often.)

'What do you mean ~ you don't want to know? We asked you a question.'

(We meant you people leak information like a sieve and the people we are protecting aren't going to be afraid of getting revealed. They are going to murder people to ensure they are not ~ basically you don't know what is going on and we don't want to tell you, for both our safety's sake.)

So,

('Trust us. There are factors we are taking into account that you are unaware of because you don't know what's going on'.)

'Of course we don't know what's going on. That's why we are asking you.'

('You really don't want to know.' We are your highly trained and underpaid experts on this, we aren't raging assholes and we are telling you that bad shit will happen if you force this, thus 'you really don't want to know'.)

'What do you mean ~ you really don't want to know?? Yes, we do. We are warning you,'

(Okay. Execute Plan B. 'Excuse us for a moment, {create a plausible lie.}'.)

{Pregnant pause,}

Congressman-type: 'It is rather odd that they all had to go into another room to take that phone call.'

{Minutes pass}

'Go see what is taking them so long.'

'What do you mean they are all gone? Find them!'

'What do you mean they seem have left the building? Find them!'

'Who do I call about this? The FBI, Homeland Security, or the CIA?

And finally,

'What do you mean they appear to have fled the country? Find them, damn it!'

(Hey, I worked with some real shady characters.)

Then would come the international manhunts, the flight to avoid prosecution and then resurrecting my life under a different ID in another country which hopefully had a dim view of handing me over to the FBI, or the Navy SEALs.

Now back to our regularly scheduled diversion :

'It has to do with giving something to the Khanate if you expect them to do anything for you.'

Tony: 'You can't appreciate how that is going to look. Besides, that is a political decision, way above your pay-grade.'

(Not a good time to remind him that he didn't pay me.)

'What precisely do you want us to do? Please be specific.'

Tony: 'How is the Khanate going to react to an intervention on the part of the United States?'

'They will ignore you.'

Tony: 'What if the President makes public statement.'

'What is he going to say?'

Tony: 'That the US is dedicated to a peaceful resolution of the unrest in Thailand.'

'They won't care. They truly believe that actions speak louder than words. If Thailand requested our intervention, or was a client state,'

Tony: 'A what?'

'Client state, a country beholding to the US, or UK for their external security.'

Tony: 'I know what client state is. That is 20th Century Imperialist thinking. No one does stuff like that anymore. Besides, the UN is responsible for the external security of its member states, which Thailand is.'

'The Khanate doesn't see it that way. We won't let them into the UN, so they see no reason to play by the UN's rules. The President can evoke the UN Charter all he wants. Unless he makes UN acceptance dependent on their cooperation, they will see no reason to cooperate.'

Tony: 'That's not going to happen.'

'What part of that won't happen?'

Tony: 'The President is not going on international television and endorsing the Khanate as a prospective UN member. What happens if we imply through back channels that the President will support such an action at a later date?'

'You want us to lie to them? Do you have any idea how badly that will compromise our working relationship with the Khanate?'

Tony: 'We will deal with that later. Would they accept such a bargain?'

'So you are going to lie to them, Mr. Blinken, they will never forgive this act of treachery.'

Tony: 'No, you are going to lie to them.'

Addison: 'I will resign. I suspect that the rest of the team will quit as well.'

Tony: 'What is wrong with your team, Ms. Stuart (Addison)? Can't anyone over there do their damn jobs?'

'We are doing our damn jobs, Mr. Blinken. We are telling you this is a diplomatically fatal move that will not only reduce this taskforce to uselessness, it will have long term consequences for all future Khanate-American relations.'

Tony: 'That is a ridiculous assessment.'

'That is our experienced assessment. They believe treachery is only forgiven by death. They do believe in loyalty and keeping one's word. In our country, perjury is an unfortunate side effect of the judicial progress. To the Great Khan, it is reason enough to cut your head off.'

Tony: 'Fine. I am ordering you to open back-channel talks with the Khanate concerning their admittance to the UN contingent on them taking a reasonable course of action.'

'Even if we were to do such a moronic thing, the Great Khan will ask Cáel directly to verify this. It is that important to him and his state.'

Tony: 'Okay.'

'Perhaps you could suggest to me what form of coercion I should employ to make Cáel to commit such a blasphemous act?'

Tony: 'Tell him to do it. That is what we pay him for.'

'Mr. Blinken, Mr. Nyilas is an unpaid consultant. At the job he is on sabbatical from, he makes more money than I do. He has an Irish diplomatic passport, been nominated to be the Prince of Albania, Georgia and Armenia, been proclaimed a warrior-prince of Transylvania and is a hero in both Hungary and Romania. He has no brothers, or sisters. His parents are both dead. His only surviving kin are people he is not particularly close to. Since economic and social blackmail are off the table, I am asking you if you are ordering me to use enhanced interrogation techniques to exacting his cooperation in this foolhardy endeavor.'

Tony: 'You mean torture him?'

'I would never go on the record using that word. I don't advise you to use it either.'

Tony: 'What kind of people are you?'

'The kind you engage to take on a mission of this delicate nature. You honestly don't want to know what we've done in the name of our constituent national bodies. You employ us so that you don't have to know. As you said, we 'get it done'. Until now, you have never asked us 'how' we got things done. You wanted the intelligence so we got it for you.'

Tony: 'No member of this administration ever asked you to violate US, or International Law.'

'Which is precisely why the government employs me, so that you can keep your hands clean while mine are steeped in blood. Nothing our team has done will ever blow back on you, so don't worry about that. Why don't we get back to our current dilemma?'

(I think until that moment Tony had convinced himself that Addison was another civil servant drone and people like her only existed in the 'black bag' fantasies of conspiracy theorists, hackneyed movie scripts and questionable 'true' spy novels. People like Addison and Lady Fathom weren't standard issue intelligence officers by any stretch of the imagination. They were almost unique in that they did what they did for the very beliefs they had sworn an oath to uphold, to serve their countries.

There were no personal vendettas going on. No slush funds were vanishing into Cayman Island accounts. Neither had a God Complex. There was no desire for personal power, career advancement, or fame. I was beginning to think that was why Temujin used them, and me, because we could be counted on to do the right thing when required and only when required. Addison and Fathom had damned themselves forever because someone had to pay the price and get the job done. I imagined they really felt blessed for the opportunity. I worked with maniacs.)

Tony: 'Thailand, yes. What if we put troops on the ground in Thailand?'

'How many?'

Tony hummed and hawed so we had to guess.

'A Marine Expeditionary Unit? If that is all, they better have an exit plan. Sir, if you want to impress the Khanate with the White House's resolve, you need to start landing troops from the Rapid Deployment Force starting tomorrow. Base aircraft out of Thai air bases. Threaten to ram any Indian Naval vessels that get in your way.'

Tony: 'Is that what it would take?'

('Yes. It would take the US to growing some balls, damn it!' was not the diplomatic reply though it desperately needed to be said. Hey, I could be a bit of a jingoist when I feel the lives of my loved ones are in danger.)

'That is our current assessment of the situation. The Khanate has no reason to take any American threat of force seriously. They won't see anything short of a full-court press as nothing more than posturing for the home audience and what allies we have left.'

Tony: 'What does that mean?'

'It means you are taking the cooperation of Taiwan and Philippines for granted. Our people tell us they see American influence in the region waning and we have been letting the Chinese push them around. Now the Khanate appears and knocks the Chinese back three decades on the World Stage. The Khanate is trying to create a ring of allies around the PRC and a few of them are curious why the US is dragging its heel about such a critical regional issue.'

Tony: 'You don't dictate US foreign policy.'

(No, we simply enacted foreign policy without your knowledge.)

There were probably a large number of Special Forces operators who would be shaking their heads in bewilderment when they found out the US was trying to face down the Khanate over, of all places, Thailand. Hadn't they just busted their humps trying to make the Great Khan see their nations (the US and UK) as potential worthy allies?

Working with the Khanate had been 'interesting'. If you asked them for anything, they got it for you, danger and consequences be damned. They'd try anything for the men they considered 'brothers in the struggle'. If you were pinned down by fire from a hillside and asked for fire support, they would napalm the whole damn mountain if that was what it took. The man/woman on the other end of that radio cared for your life, not the human rights of the scumbag shooting at you, or any of the people they might be hiding behind.

You also know if they couldn't get it done, it was only because the resources didn't exist. The Khanate Special Forces hadn't acted like co-belligerents, or allies. They treated you like their own kin. They would and had died to make sure some of them got home to their families. If ordered to, they would definitely take the fight to the Khanate. I believed many of them would be asking what had it all been for.

'We wouldn't dream of it,' Addison lied.

'Good. You have your marching orders. Now get to it,' and Tony hung up on us. Everyone in the room was looking around. What exactly were our marching orders? Had I'd missed that part of our conversation?

"Well," Fathom sighed, "there is only one thing we can do." I seriously prayed she would ask me to lie to Temujin.

"Understood," Mehmet nodded. "Somehow we get the Khanate to launch their offensive into Thailand in three days."

"Can they do that?" I blurted out.

"They do it, or everyone in this room is in a shitload of trouble when they get around to it next week," Addison grinned. "The Khanate high command isn't going to back down just because we ask them to. I wouldn't if I were them."

"What happens if they can't make the three day window?" I asked.

"Then you call up your blood-brother and ask him to fuck over his nation to save us from lengthy prison sentences, or outright assassination," Fathom smirked.

"If he says 'no'," I looked into her eyes.

"That's the real tragedy in all this, he won't," she gave me a comforting look. "He isn't going to leave you hanging in the wind. He'll call off his attack dogs because he isn't the kind of man to fuck you over because it is politically expedient. I'm staking all our lives on that. I always have."

The Black Lotus? We'd explain to them the ugly reality that neither of us could afford to be painted into a corner over this Thailand issue. We were doing our best, but our political masters were dead set on making a colossal error and we had to follow through with those directives. The Khanate would do everything in their extensive power to support the Black Lotus and if they could invade in three days with some nebulous chance at success, they would go.

The Black Lotus, the entire 9 Clans knew JIKIT had no power except what we finagled from the US and the UK. We had borrowed their resources to accomplish what we'd done. The Black Lotus had profited from some of those operations and both the Khanate and JIKIT would owe them big, but we were good for it. That truism was why they worked with us.

My personal problem was that I knew the Great Khan would not forgive, or forget this interference by the US. It wasn't in his nature. Worse, the politicians and bureaucrats in Washington would see this as a victory and an expression that the US remained the globe's premier super power. Too few would remember the price of this sense of superiority would be born on the back of Thailand's masses. The revolution would fail after a short, brutal civil war. The tyrant would remain in power and the voice of the Thai people would be stilled.

The end result of that late night phone call? We weren't told.

What follows is pure conjecture on my part, fueled by intelligence information provided by other JIKIT resources and knowledge about how much the political landscape of Southeast Asia had been transformed by the PCR being driven back to their own coastline, leaving a power vacuum India, Vietnam and the Khanate were eager to fill.

The Republic of China/Taiwan --

'Aren't you the same people who said only a week ago that sending more weapons into the region would only escalate tensions? And now you want to use our airbases against our latest ally in the region? Do you understand how much internal political turmoil this will cause? Half of us are jumping for joy that someone big and fierce embraces our independence. The other half think it is time to retake China.

Yes, we mean the territory currently under the oppressive yoke of the People's Republic of China. Yes, the China the Khanate just kicked the crap out of. The nation that might not be able to protect say, Zhusanjiao. That would be the Pearl River Delta to you Westerners, that huge area on the mainland adjacent to Hong Kong. Hainan is looking pretty ripe for conquest as well. That would be that big island off the coast of, yes, we have indeed suspected you could read a map.

At the moment we are expecting the permission of the Khanate to use Woody Island as a forward staging area and logistic base to help us do just that. Take Hainan, yes, that large island currently, and temporarily, under the illegal occupation by those illegitimate bastards in Beijing.

What do you mean 'don't declare war on them'? We've been at war with the People's Republic since 1945. No, we are pretty sure we would recall signing a Peace Treaty with them. No, we can't 'get over it' either. Why are you even asking us that? Don't you know our history?

Anyway, if we help you, can we expect the same level of cooperation from you as we are getting from the Khanate? In case things go sour, Yes, a shooting war would qualify. See, your people at JIKIT have been helping the Khanate and us, your people, at JIKIT, we are pretty sure it is made up of Americans and British personnel. Why would we think that? Are you serious? Because that's what your governments told us, that's why. Besides, why are you asking us what your people have been doing? Don't they work for you?

Speaking of the US government helping us out, what progress is there on the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 ? We sure could use those vessels. While we are at it, how about sharing some of the technology used in the F-35. We'll build our own, or a model vaguely similar to it. We value your friendship and know you will help us out in a pinch.

Right?'

The Philippines --

'Sigh. If you really think this will help. By the way, aren't your fighters going to need some in-air refueling? What are you going to do if the Khanate engages them over Philippine airspace? What are you going to do if you get into a shooting war with the Khanate? Will you defend us from their ballistic missile threat? We have a long history as your allies, but the Khanate is totally ruthless, and they scare us. Can you hold our hand, say for the next twenty years?'

(The Philippines rolls out their Wish List)

Maybe you could give us some advanced fighters?

We are a poor country and can't afford to buy any before 2018.

We are not greedy, 72 F-16s will do and you are upgrading to the F-35 anyway so we know you have some lying around. Could you also help us with the maintenance cost? We are a poor country, but very large.

Some of your decommissioned naval vessels would go a long way in showing us some love. One of those Tarawa-class amphibious assault ships would be really nice and you've got the USS Peleliu decommissioned and about to be scrapped. We have hundreds of islands in our Republic so moving stuff around is pretty tough. Can you help us out?

If you could toss in the ship's complement of 20 AV-8B Harrier 2 and 12 V-22 Ospreys with a fifteen year maintenance package that would be even better!

We are a poor country. We could never afford to buy any of that stuff.

Maybe a frigate, or three? You have a dozen Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigates sitting around. We can finally retire some of our World War 2 relics and make one our new flagship.

We know you aren't going to give us one of those powerful nuclear submarines, but maybe you could secure a few loans so we could buy some of those nifty German-made, diesel-powered Type 214's. We hear they are pretty cool, very silent and practically a steal at $330 million per boat! We love you guys! And, we are poor.

Oh, and some helicopters!

We were going to refurbish some Vietnam-era Iroquois, but since your Marine Corp is retiring the far superior Bell AH-1 SuperCobra, can we have a dozen of those instead?

We were going to fix up some of our aging Sikorsky S-76s as air ambulances. Getting new ones would be far superior, don't you think?

You also have those cool Blackhawks. You have so many. Could you spare us, say twenty? You're the best!

And some guns. And artillery. And some APC's.

Did we mention we are a poor country going through an expensive force modernization program?

Got any amphibious vehicles lying around? We could use a few of more of those small unit riverine craft (SURC)'s we bought from you recently. They are excellent counter-insurgency tools. You want us doing well fighting the War on Terror, don't you?

Did we mention that we are a poor country? And we love you guys!

The Federation of Malaysia --

We like this idea. Give us say a week to ten days and we can jump right in.

You want to go in four days? With what precisely? Compared to the force projections you have been providing us, Who? JIKIT, of course. Who else would you send us to when we requested intelligence on Khanate activities from you? Did we believe them? Why wouldn't we? They are your people,

When do you think Thailand will let us intervene? We've asked the Prime Minister if he needs our assistance and he politely declined. Apparently he thinks he's got things well in hand. He does retain command of over 200,000 troops and the opposition is much smaller. I hope you have better luck than we did in convincing him he's in serious trouble.

Also, what do you plan to do about the Indian Navy's South China Sea taskforce? It is pretty big, not something we can tackle on our own.

Yes, we kind of need to know what you are doing before we decide what we are doing. You do realize that the Gulf of Thailand is currently under the complete domination of the Indian/Khanate/Vietnamese Axis, right?

48 combat aircraft? What gave you that idea? The Vietnamese have been refurbishing their Mig-21's like crazy, using Khanate stockpiles, plus there are nearly a 150 Su-22's. Sure, they are both older than manned flights to the Moon, but they can drop bombs, fire rockets and launch ground attack missiles with the best of them. They are still jet aircraft.

Worried? You are aware that those antiquated pieces of crap can bomb the northern part of my country, aren't you? So 'yes', we are worried about those 300 flying deathtraps being more than a 'manageable' nuisance.

What about our air force? I imagine it will be doing what we trained it to do, defend Federation air space because I doubt those relics will be coming at us unescorted. We can already tell you that the Mig-29's and Su-30's the Khanate and Vietnamese will be flying are excellent aircraft. We fly them too, just not as many.

Of course you can base your F-22's out of Sultan Ismail Petra Airport as long as you supply the logistical support. How many? A lot? Could you please be more specific? Two squadrons? My, that's going to get pretty dicey. I believe you when you say the F-22 is a highly advanced stealthy fighter. I also believe that they are a lot less stealthy when they are sitting on the ground re-arming and refueling.

Do we think they will really threaten us? They are threatening us, over our Spratly Island claims, are you sure you know what you are getting into? By the way, when this blows over, do you think you can pressure the Khanate into giving us their Spratly island airbase? It is rapidly approaching completion and is over 3000 meters long.

How did they do that? They are dredging the ocean floor, it is a man-made island. Didn't your government protest the environmental damage they were causing?

No, not the Khanate, the Chinese.

Yes, the Khanate currently controls it. They stole it from the PRC hours before the ceasefire. So, can we have it?

Yes, we know it belonged to the People's Republic, but it doesn't anymore. Besides, we both opposed it when the Chinese were dredging it up the island from the sea floor, so giving it to us isn't all that egregious, or unexpected, action. It would also go a long way in supporting our just and worthy claims to the Spratly Islands. We really don't want those greedy Chinese, yes, both the People's Republic and the 'Republic of', or, those incompetent Filipinos to steal them from us.

Both of us knocking the Vietnamese back on their heels will be going a long way to getting those Communist knuckle draggers to back off as well. Hey, if they do get antsy, can we also take the Vietnamese base in the Spratly's? It isn't as big as the one the Khanate stole, but it is finished, and closer to us. We are sure that if we help you out, you will do the right thing when the time comes. Right?

The President of the United States --

'They want what? Have they lost their fucking minds?

The Philippines is talking about a billion dollar aid package and guaranteed loans we doubt they can ever repay. We only want to use their air bases for a month, maybe two, not deflower their teenage daughters. It isn't as if we are really going to go to war with the Khanate over Thailand. Besides, the last time we 'got involved' like that, George Bush ran up a trillion dollar deficit, and his party was thrown out of office. Doesn't anyone care we are facing a difficult mid-term election in November?

So, the Taiwanese think this is the appropriate moment to invade mainland China? And they want our help? Do they know how expensive that can get? Do they understand how much that will unbalance the already shake state of Asian affairs? It is another land war in Asia for the love of God!'

And, the Malaysians are going to help us, but not actually help us and they want tens of billions square miles of ocean for the measly concessions they are making? What do they expect us to do with all the Filipinos, Chinese and Vietnamese who already live there?

What do you mean none of those islands are actually inhabited? They are just military bases, some of them nothing more than rusting iron hulks on submerged reefs? OH, God damn it! Why don't we take the God damn Spratly Islands for ourselves if they are that fucking important? We have a Marine Corp. Aren't they good at taking islands? I read about it somewhere.

No, I'm not changing the damn mission. I'm venting because the world seems to be inhabited with greedy assholes who can't appreciate peaceful discourse without trying to lift my wallet.

Okay, okay, I've got this. We are going to form a new international commission to resolve this Spratly Island's nightmare. Have the French chair it. They love that kind of stuff. Makes sure the Germans are on the commission too. They need to look less like money-grubbing douchebags after that fiasco over the Greek economic collapse. Then invite Russia, India and Pakistan. That will pretty much guarantee nothing gets accomplished.

That will allow us to keep our promises to those three leeches without having to deliver anything and, when it fails, it won't be seen as my fault. (Groan) What we really need is new videos of Khanate soldiers bayoneting babies, another ISIS atrocity, or more indisputable evidence the Russian Army's involvement in the Ukraine. The Great Khan really screwed us over Tibet (you know, by allowing them to become a free and democratic society), Putin is an evil cuck (who most likely laughs at me behind my back) and another round of Islamophobia-bashing to remind everyone how this is all Bush's fault.

No wonder George spent so much time at Crawford Ranch. Navigating international relations is totally thankless and no matter how rosy we paint the latest economic numbers, someone still finds a way to make me look bad. Oh well, if this blows up in my face, I only have two more years in this shooting gallery. Maybe then I might change my mind and decided I really was born in Kenya, or Indonesia. I really wish Hawaii was an independent country. I'd like to retire there if there weren't so many of those damn contentious Americans.

The US President wanted to run this operation on a shoestring, not engage in 'nation-building', much less backing an invasion of anybody. In fact, he was trying to stop an invasion.

The Philippines was a poor country. So what? It wasn't his fault. He had poor people in the US too and they cast votes.

Taiwan suddenly thought it could take on China? They were insane. Of course he would be ignoring a major stated political goal of the ROC for the past 65 years ~ reunification on their terms. Any high-level technological transfer wasn't going to happen because if the Republic ran off the reservation, the President would bloody well be sure no one could trace that decision back to anything he'd done.

At least Malaysia was on board, sorta/kinda. They wouldn't actually be able to help until day ten, or fourteen and, unlike the Republic of China, they had a small air force that might not be able to protect forwardly deployed troops. If he ended getting of those National Guard yahoos killed his party would be murdered in November.

For a split second, he wondered if he should attempt to make a personal call to the Great Khan, potentate to potentate, except he had this sinking feeling that a winning smile and a handshake would be worse than useless. The man would look him straight in his eyes and start making demands. He would demand action and when the Leader of the Free World prevaricated, he knew the Khanate would call his bluff.

And they would fight. The alternative was a grand spectacle of public humiliation and that he could not accept. The US military machine would fight and they would win. They would win because he needed them to win, fast and clean and home for Christmas. Maybe he would authorize the mobilization of those California airmen. Just in case.

In the end, Secretary Kerry gave POTUS what he asked for.

The Philippines would let them use their country's bases for logistics and strategic assets (aka bombers).

The ROC would extend their air umbrella out 200 km to the east, south and west, acting like a shield between the Khanate and US Pacific assets moving through the tight Formosan Straits.

Malaysia gave them an airbase from which they could strike into Thailand, or Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. The US Air Force would have the opportunity to be lethally effective.

Had they known the sum total of the US commitment, they would have been appalled. The Khanate did not fuck around.

One Carrier Strike Group,

Forty (maybe sixty) Air Force fighters,

Lumbering B-52's flying half way around the globe,

Hadn't they been watching the dogfights over China for the past month? Maybe they would like to dive down and examine the wreckage of the PLAN carrier Liaoning and see just how it met its grisly fate?

Apparently not.

(I live, love and have loved)

"What are you doing here?" she got the preliminary nonsense out of the way. With the way she was dressed, I was an expected visitor. She was expecting some make-up sex. I was thinking 'paying for my past mistakes' sex because I was already seeing way too many women who required me to do things outside the bedroom, non-sexual things. I had my dress jacket swung over my shoulder. It would only get in the way later.

"I brought you motorcycle over. You left it parked by my place," I kept any appearance of lust, or glee off my face.

"It is one o'clock in the morning," she glowered.

"I was called into work. I'm on call 24/7."

"Let me guess, you can't talk about it."

"You wouldn't believe me if I did, so suffice it to say I was doing things I didn't want to do instead of coming over here, waking you up from a sound sleep."

"I wasn't asleep. I was angry," I pointed out.

"I apologize. Maybe I should have waited until morning." She didn't think I should have waited as long as I had. Keeping her waiting until morning would have left her volcanic.

"I wasn't asleep."

"Your bike is in the parking lot across the street," I handed her the lot ticket.

"How did you find it?"

"There are only two places in my neighborhood that allows parking and the second one is poorly lit," I replied.

"And the attendant let you steal it?" she frowned.

"He knows me. I do a ton of business with him and it wasn't as if I was dressed like your average carjacker."

"How did you start it?"

"Chaz showed me how to spoof the lock. He's got this spiffy lock-pick set on him."

"That he carries with him for such contingencies?"

"Hey, he's the spycraft professional. I'm the amateur who tags along because karma is a bitch," I grinned.

"Did you ruin the ignition?"

"No. He's got this skeleton key thingy. I need to get me one of those," I added. See, I was drifting down the path to becoming a hardened criminal and she had to save me. Girls love saving bad boys from themselves. There is an entire literary genre devoted to the topic.

"Get in here," Anais barked. She emphasized that command by grabbing my tie and dragging me into her room. Now I could ogle her in her bra, panties and dress shirt left open. As I said moments ago, she was expecting me. Anais had thick, light-brown, just-past-the-shoulders hair with blonde highlights. Her dusky skin tone suggested some ancestral link to the South of France while her deep green eyes suggested Celtic ties.

She was definitely someone I would describe as possessing an hourglass figure. She worked out just enough to stay fit, practiced judo (in and outside of the bedroom) and ate right. Her ass was the correct mix of firm and fleshy, her breasts were pleasant without too much bounce and she sported broad, but short, nipples that liked to get bitten.

With her bare foot, she kicked the door shut, spun me around by my tie until I slammed, back first, into the wall in the short hallway that led to her bedroom.

"I repeat, what are you doing here?"

"I never actually apologized for how things ended up," I sodomized the truth. "Anais, I am truly sorry for how badly I fucked up our affair. I acted without a thought for the possible consequences, or thinking about how betrayed you would feel. Can you accept my apology?"

"You came here to have sex," she declared. She stepped up tightly against my body, her eyes boring into mine. I had around six inches on her so she had to tilt up her chin to do so.

"That too," I shrugged.

"I ought to throw you out the window," she growled. We were on the seventh floor. The window didn't open and the safety glass looked alright.

"I'll go then," I nodded. Now to make her beg for/demand sex.

"You are not going anywhere," she snarled. Then she kissed me, a tongue-grapple ensued and she finished things by biting my lower lip so much I tasted blood afterwards. I dropped my jacket. I was about to need both my hands.

"I think us having sex would be a mistake," I pushed her buttons. I wasn't some wimp acquiescing to her demands. I was a free-willed being; a strong man who needed to be wrestled down and forced to perform.

She pulled me down into a second kiss. This was an 'I will leave you incapable of thinking about anything but me' kiss. Yes, I had names for kisses too. They were similar to naming the ingredients of a choice meal. I propelled her back until we slammed into the opposite wall. Anais was a tough chick and a bit of banging around was par for the course.

I cupped each ass cheek and pulled her up. She responded by wrapping her legs around my hips. We were still kissing. Anais slipped her hands along my sides before linking them up at the small of my back. She pulled me hard against her while she ground her crotch against mine.

"Clothes," she rumbled from deep within. As in 'why was I still dressed?'

"Been a while," I taunted her. Since she was glommed on to me, I used my freed up hands to rip off my tie.

"Yes. I bet it hasn't 'been a while' for you," she sizzled.

"Long as in 5:30 this morning," I teased back. At this point in the foreplay that revelation was akin to throwing gasoline on a fire. I was being an unrepentant dog and she was taking me to confessional, between her thighs.

"Bastard," she condemned me as well as the entire male side of the species.

"It doesn't mean I haven't missed you, this, us," I riposted. She retaliated by turning her humping motion into to more of a grind. Bad kitty. Bad kitty wanted to be spanked. Woot!

"You are never going to change," she dug her fingernails into my flesh. I yanked my shirt off.

"If I hadn't changed, you wouldn't be here," I reminded her while nipping at her nose and lips.

"You are still an egocentric bastard," she growled.

"Hey, I always took care of your needs," I countered. I had. She knew I had and since she currently wanted me to take her to that higher erotic plane, she wasn't going to contest that fact. Instead, she began working her shirt off and in doing so, squishing her boobs against my chest.

Holding her tight, my left hand under her right buttock and my right hand on her mid-back, pressing her torso into mine. We dance through two slow circles before crashing, side by side, on the bed. Anais rolled us over so that she was on top. I didn't let her get in a totally dominant pose, oh no. I had a kitty to take care off. I grabbed her firm ass and propelled her up until I was face first with her gusset.

I might not remember to check my bank balance, or the atomic number of Technetium (I once had a girlfriend who would rate my performance on the periodic table in the midst of our fucking, I never made it higher than Copernicium before she passed out), but I can recall the precise taste, texture and topography of every cunt I've had face to face contact with. I knew right where to tongue-fuck Anais to twist her up inside.

Control-orgasm, control-orgasm, Anais was pig-headed and wanted to keep dictating our reunion. She also wanted to return to the level of sexual bliss we had shared so often before. Her compromise was to hump my face; really grind it in. Black silk underwear is an excellent medium for transferring force and wetness between partners.

She rubbed her love-nub against my upper lip/teeth while I did tongue-ups into her cunt. She was wetter than Bangladesh in the rainy season. That was an indicator of some serious masturbatory sessions stopping just short of orgasm before I arrived. I had some aching sensations to play with and I wasn't cruel. I maneuvered a hand between her thighs, underneath the band of her underwear and exposed her vaginal opening to my fingers and tongue while keeping that silky feel for her clitoris.

"Rurr," she began growling from the depths of her diaphragm. That was how she always was, thundering like a female grizzly bear in heat. It was an expression with deep subharmonic components that caused the heart to flutter and her flesh to shimmer with the vibrations mixed with her bodily sweat.

"Come on, Baby," I urged her on.

That pissed her off. She was trying to hold off her orgasm for a few more seconds. My 'baby' crack shifted her resolve into anger allowing her climax to overwhelm her.

"Rah," she howled. It didn't sound like a female coming to fruition. It was more akin to the sound European soccer hooligans made when their team scored a goal. The muscles in Anais' thighs were strumming along like the cords of a piano, her belly was undulating in and out, and her head had rolled back so that she was screaming to the ceiling.

The countdown was on. The people next door/across the hall/above or below us would be waking up, think that someone had unleashed a wild animal in the hotel, figure out they were not immediately on the menu, then call the front desk, stating their fears as justifiable fact. Anais and I had been down that road before.

I gave Anais' flank a light smack to get her attention. Sure she looked back at me with simmering anger, yet she also knew the score. That had been round #1 in a nightlong bout of sexual conquest, rebellion and re-conquest. She drew her knees to her chest so she could pull off her damp panties in one swift motion. I worked off my shoes, pants, socks and underwear. While she soaked up my naked flesh (muscles, scars and all), she retrieved the phone from the side table and placed it beside her. She wouldn't want to break up our rhythm when the phone rang.

No romantic small talk interrupted our shared lust. She wanted that cock and I wanted to give it to her. I moved between her inviting thighs while she examined me, her upper body uplifted by her arms resting on her elbows. Bite-kissing-biting resumed. I slowly pushed her head to the bed with the force of my kisses and strength of my upper body pushing down on her. Somewhere along the way, I slipped into her.

Condom? Crap. I was slipping. I would have to pull out, because stopping to put a condom on would earn me some serious ferocity on her part. I plunged in. Anais placed her hands on my hips, claws beneath my kidneys, guiding my pace and power. I may have been on top, but she wasn't giving up on one ounce of control.

"Damn you," she hissed.

"Yes?" I leered.

"Fuck you."

"I'm working on it. Is there anything," I teased.

"Bastard," she looked away, "You remember how I like it."

"Whatever made you think I would forget?" I kept at it.

"Don't look so smug."

"I'm working on it," I looked smug. Anais dug her fingernails in. I had to be punished, just ask her.

"When do you have to go back to work?" she huffed.

"Six a.m. When do you have to go back?"

"I have two days off."

"Good to know," I stole a kiss from her lips painlessly. Good to know.

(Painful dreams)

I edged back into consciousness realizing that I was not alone. The muffled sense of my surroundings informed me that I wasn't really awake. She sat on my side of the bed, feet on the floor, side to me.

"Good evening, Dot," I yawned.

"Good morning, Cáel," the Goddess Ishara let her melodic voice float over me.

"Hold on," I interrupted her. I weaved as I leaned over, pawed at my pants (still trapped in the real world) and finally drew forth my offering.

"A fortune cookie," she chuckled. "I admire your dedication."

"It is a simple enough request and I aim to please." I hesitated. "We don't have much time, do we?"

"You are dreaming, not concussed, so we will be alright if we tread carefully," she told me. "This time, I have no cryptic warnings, or specious pieces of information. I am giving you a gift. Take my hand."

I did, not that I had much choice. We 'went', where to, I wasn't sure yet I suspected we were skirting the Weave itself where concepts like Time and Distance had little meaning.

The Goddess released my hand and I stepped out of the fog brought about by the abrupt nature of our progress to see a woman sitting beside a pool, no, a sunken bath. She looked up at our approach. Oh shit, it was,

"Cáel? You are Cáel, aren't you," she smiled. She stared at me with her blind eyes while waiting for my response with deaf ears.

"Yes, Tad fi, I'm Cáel. How did you know?"

"I bear our shared life inside me," she graced me with her serene presence.

"Ah, I was warned," I stopped myself. I was going to add 'this might happen'. That would be unfair as she appeared pleased with this alteration of her life path. "I was warned by the Goddess that she had something to show me. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?"

She put her hand over her lower abdomen and rubbed the spot with her palm.

"Seeing you and giving you the news in person is enough," she glowed with happiness.

"Have you picked out a name yet?" seemed weak.

"I will leave that up to you."

"Oh, come on," I relaxed slightly. "This is something we are doing together."

"No, it is not, kind Cáel."

"Just because she will most likely end up an Isharan doesn't,"

"No, Cáel. This birth will cost me my life. I am not destined to ever see my daughter draw her first breath," she confided in me.

"No!" I recoiled. "That's unfair." What else could I say? 'I take it back. I shouldn't have listened to my Goddess and screwed you out of what little life you had left.'

"I am content with my fate, Cáel Nyilas Wakko Ishara. Our daughter will be the first female of the Isharan line in nearly 1600 years. Rejoice that we have been confronted by Destiny and triumphed. The light of the Peacemakers will shine once more among our sisters."

"It is not worth the cost of your life," I responded bitterly. This was colossally unfair to all three of us.

"That you grieve for the short time I have left gives me strength, knowing our daughter will grow up with a strong, caring father. I,"

I could sense Ishara close by my side.

"You must go, my Cáel. We will next see each other in the Halls of our Ancestors. Take our daughter and raise her well. I have faith in you," she sighed pleasantly, as if I had sheltered her from the rainstorm with my umbrella.

"We must go," Ishara whispered in my ear and then we left. I was back in the hotel room, looking down at the tears on my sleeping face and it hurt so much.

"You gave me that command knowing what it would cost her," I sounded so hollow, chin on my chest, eyes closed instead of looking at my feet.

"We are not an easy people to love, Cáel. We are harsh. Endless centuries of suffering, pain and mistrust have made us this way. Please understand that what you see as one life passing is really one life coming into being. It is a life Fate would have denied the line of Ishara. I took you to meet Tad fi because I wanted you to greet your daughter with understanding, not sorrow. I owed you."

"Steal my anger why don't you?" I chuckled bitterly. "Can I even blame myself for this tragedy? It isn't like you made me do anything. I did it because I wanted to and never gave much thought to the frail health Tad fi was hanging on to. This is so wrong and I don't know what to do."

"Wake up. Keep living. If this news turns your heart, or fills your mind with doubt, then both of us have failed you. Tad fi didn't have to tell you. I didn't have to bring you to her. I believed you were owed the chance to say good-bye."

"I didn't say that," I exhaled sadly.

"You openly grieved and let her comfort you. That is more of a 'goodbye' than most people are able to convey. She knows your heart. You were honest in your sorrow. She saw that and that eased her suffering knowing that you are a person who is free with their heart. For a woman who expected nothing but wickedness from men for so long, that was the ultimate gift. You did help her. You truly did."

"I," I woke up. Anais was looking down at me, concerned.

"You've been crying," she noted by touching my cheek with a finger then showing me the dampness.

"Do you believe a person's soul can fracture?" I murmured. That sort of talk was unlike the 'me' she once knew.

"Do you believe that another can help you put your soul back together if that happens?" I continued.

"You are not talking about us, are you?" she studied me.

"No. I'm thinking about being a parent, not just a father. Can I fuck that up as much as I've screwed up so many of the other women I've cared for, am I going to be worthy of being a Dad?"

"Oh, I don't know. You are not the man I knew two years ago. I think you have changed for the better. You are still far from perfect yet, you seem to be trying so much harder than previously."

"You think I'm going to screw things up, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do, but I also think you will only make the same mistake once. That is better than most men can hope for," she let her gaze soften.

"This is us breaking up,"

"Yes. I think if I stayed, you would break my heart; and I am starting to believe neither one of us wants that," she nodded. "One more time?"

"I'd love to," I smiled at her. I still hurt. I was using sex to bandage my pain. Anais knew that and was giving me this unlooked for piece of kindness. It was the best break up I'd ever had, or could ever hope for.

{5:45 am, Saturday, August 30th ~ 9 Days to go}

"You look like someone strangled your kitten," Pamela told me as I exited Anais' hotel room. She was leaning against the wall across the hall. I had the feeling she had been there a while. Of course I hadn't been allowed to wander off alone; most likely, Chaz had kept an eye on me until Pamela relieved him.

"I, I got Tadifi killed," I unloaded on her.

Pamela immediately dropped her casual fa ade, her eyes narrowing. "What do you know?"

"Ishara took me to her while I dreamed. I spoke to her, I guess because I was there in Ishara-space. She told me that the birth of our child will kill her. What the fuck have I done?" I was near tears, damn it.

"You work for bitches, top to bottom," Pamela stated firmly. "Of course you weren't informed of any of this until after the fact. Do me a favor?"

"What is it? I'm not about to throw myself off a building, again."

"Don't let this tragedy bog you down. That is what Alal wants, to soil the goodness and forgiveness within you. That road leads to only one place, being as bad as he is. I've seen that capacity within you as well."

"To be a rank-bastard?"

"Precisely."

"What do I do?" sounded so pathetic coming from me.

"Cry. Weep. Remember you work for bitches, then laugh at them. You only lose if you stop being you."

"I hardly think being an irresponsible playboy is the appropriate response to all of this?"

"Hey. Don't hold back. I still have two ready and willing granddaughters you've promised to do something about," she chided me. I couldn't help myself. I snorted in amusement. I was Anakin Skywalker in the tent. I guessed I would be that forlorn soul for a while longer, except I had Pamela holding me back from the last few, fatal steps.

{3:00 pm, Saturday, August 30th ~ 9 Days to go}

"They want to do what?" I blinked. I was in Doebridge, connecting with Aya and her Squirts. I hadn't asked to come here. Pamela decided our destination on her own initiative, and I hadn't come up with a convincing enough reason to jump out of the moving car. I didn't want to unload my woes on my 9-year old Valkyrie. She was entertaining her friends with a weekend of shooting bows and learning the best way to hobble a surprised foe, just normal little Amazon-girl stuff.

"Some people of your government want to talk to the Esteemed Oyuun T m rbaatar," Iskender repeated over the phone.

"In an official capacity? As ambassador from Kazakhstan? Or from the Khanate?"

"I am unsure. That is why we want you there," he informed me.

"In what capacity? Chief Ambassador of the Host? A member of JIKIT,"

"As the Great Khan's Blood-Brother."

"Oh," I murmured, "This is because war is about to break out,"

"Yes. We really cannot afford a fatal confrontation with the United States," Iskender told me.

"But if I make a deal in the Khan's name, it doesn't look bad for OT or Temujin, and if we are rebuffed, it isn't egg on their face either," I reasoned.

"That is my belief. You are regarded as the Great Khan's chaotic kinsman, someone tolerated for his eccentricities while being close to the Great Khan's heart, for a very good reason."

Yeah, I had saved his life. More to the point, five Amazon augurs had died so that he might live. To the Mongol-Turkish Empire, that carried an incredible weight. Things such as either being named, or nominated as Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege, Prinţul Ungariei şi Transilvaniei, Mbret rore Princi i Shqip ris , t'agavorakan ishkhan Ha asdan and sts'kho prints'I sak'art'velo? That was a whole lot of spaghetti with no actual paycheck, inherited palace, or even loyal palace guards to hold the republican masses at bay.

Okay, that was somewhat untrue. Hungary and Romania thought I was quaintly insane for accepting the Great Khan's claim that I was the Prince of Hungry and Transylvania, but Albania, Armenia and Georgia were far more serious about my honorifics.

In those nations, there was some traction to give the 'office' of prince the powers of a 'powerless' head of state, now that they were part of the Greater Khanate Empire. Essentially, I was to show up, give the Great Khan's blessing to their respective elected governments and then 'rubber stamp' their governing cabinets. On the plus side, I liked Albanian food and both Georgia and Armenia had year-round skiing.

"When do you want me to show up?"

"That is an issue. We need to meet on neutral ground where we are not likely to be noticed," Iskender hedged.

"We could call Addison and have her arrange something."

"The Esteemed Oyuun T m rbaatar was of the opinion that we could hold this clandestine meeting at your residence," he dropped the anchor on me.

"Ah, I live in a hole in the wall, Iskender," I pointed out.

"Define a hole in the wall."

"Two modest bedrooms, a kitchenette, one bathroom and a living room that only allows one sofa and one weight set, small."

"With the money you make? Why?" he wondered.

"When I got the job three months ago, it was all I could afford. Since then, I haven't had the time to house-hunt," I explained. "Besides, I like my roommates."

"Who sleeps on the sofa?"

"Not you too," I griped. "Odette sleeps with me, unless my company minds. Then she sleeps with Timothy, unless he has company, Timothy is gay."

"Aahh,"

"I'm not gay or bi-sexual, Iskender, if that is what you are worried about," I cut that line of thought off. Some cultures frowned on homosexuality and this wasn't time to make a fruitless stand for alternate lifestyles.

"I'm sure no one would think that of you." 'Because I was a renowned man-whore' was unstated.

"Do you still want to meet at my apartment?"

"Yes. This is a spur of the moment deal. Are you amenable?"

"I need to get back and get things ready ~ say an hour?" I offered.

"That would do nicely. Thank you, Cáel."

"We are all on the same team, right?" I sighed.

"We are glad you feel that way. We do appreciate it. I will see you in an hour."

"You've got to go?" Aya asked.

"Yeah. Work."

"It's okay. Stop burying yourself in the results of Tad fi's choice and start thinking about raising your daughter, Cáel," she advised.

I had gone to see her because I wasn't sure I could make sense of it talking with Timothy. And Odette would try to comfort me with sex, which would only complicate having sex with her later. Girls rarely let shit like that go. Everyone else I knew, had ulterior motives.

"And here I had hoped that we could partake of some oyster hunting," I teased her.

"If they corner me, I'll tell Elsa you tried. I'll see you Monday night. After all, this will be our last Monday together until, you come back," she grinned up at me.

Done, This Monday was the start of the last week of my Havenstone internship. I'd nearly run the gauntlet and survived. Monday night/Tuesday morning of the following week I would be heading somewhere, meeting up with Felix and forging some strategy that had us winning the Great Hunt.

For me, it was a matter of prestige. For Felix, it was a matter of freedom. Katrina had worked out a compromise. Felix would become the property of the House that captured him, though he would still be allowed to work at Havenstone. Essentially, we would be surrendering up his genetics. For Felix, it would be a permanent thing. If we won? Respect for House Ishara would increase and Felix would be free to choose any woman that wished to share his immaculate heritage.

"Good hunting, Dumu," I pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her little arms around my waist. {Dumu = daughter}

"Mamitu. Find it in yourself to forgive Ishara, and then you can forgive yourself," she smiled.

"So how did you become so wise?" I felt a tiny bit of the weight lifted from my chest.

"I have a very bright father," she teased me right back, "and an even smarter aunt."

"Stinker." I grunted,

Aya giggled and I separated on that happy note to make my way back to my current means of conveyance.

"Well, that was fast," Pamela remarked.

"Work."

"I haven't received a notification," she worried.

"Special, off-the-books, Khanate stuff. Temujin wants me to help him out," I confided. Both of us knew this was stuff we might not be able to tell our companions on JIKIT about. Not good. We needed to trust one another.

"That guy better start ponying up some tangible benefits."

"What do you suggest?" I mused as she started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

"A few guardians would be nice. His personal phone number. Vast tracks of land in Kazakhstan, worked by serfs," she suggested.

"Beautiful, scantily clad serfs?"

"Are there any other kind? They will fit in well with your female Mongolian bodyguards," she chortled.

"Actually, a few more males in the bodyguard wouldn't suck," I countered. "I have an annoying habit of attracting gorgeous females who want to sleep with me."

I tried to keep the bitter tone from my voice.

"Atta boy," Pamela punched my arm. "Don't let the pain drag you down. As you told me, she's not angry about her fate. Being an Amazon, I believe she feels honored. The life of augurs is rather thankless and their doom is ignored by the majority of our 'sisters'. I don't think you will ever let that happen."

"Not now," I agreed.

"Thought of any names?"

Names for my unborn daughter, the first of what appeared to be my many children. Holy Hell, what had become of my life as an unreliable cad, a womanizer and a disappointer of women?

"I was thinking of naming her after her mother," I replied.

"Don't do that to her. That's a legacy I wouldn't wish on any daughter, being an augur."

"Shala?"

"Where did that come from?" Pamela asked.

"The Sumerian Goddess of Compassion," I enlightened her.

"That's nice," Pamela gave me a tender look. She really was my spiritual triplet, Aya being our best third. "Of course, if you chose Pamela, I won't be insulted."

"What," and she punched me in the shoulder. I was about to say 'what about a legacy I wouldn't wish on,', but she knew that.

Note: A brief recap of what's gone wrong with the world:

Once upon a time there was a Mongolian chieftain named Temujin. He united his people (the Mongols), took the title of Genghis Khan and began the creation of the largest land empire that ever existed. He wasn't called Khagan, Yekhe Khagan, or Khaan (which means emperor/Great Khan/Khan of Khans in Turkish-Mongol parlance) until after his death. In his time, he was such a bad-ass that he didn't need any honorifics.

Temujin died. Normally, that would have been the end of that, but Temujin was someone special. After his death, a secret society called the 'Earth and Sky' came into existence to prepare for his return and the rebirth of his empire.

He did indeed, come back.

He came back several times, in fact. Each time, he judged the time was not yet ripe to reunify the peoples of Central Asia, so he died and the next generation of the E&S prepared for the next incarnation.

Twenty-two years ago, Temujin was born yet again. He recalled his heritage and set about determining if the time was ripe for his public resurrection.

This time, there were other people besides the E&S waiting for him. They were a rival secret society called the Seven Pillars of Heaven (the 7P). They had figured out a way to uncover his location and planned to kill him for good. That would have allowed the 7P to bring all of Asia under their mantle.

Earlier this year, a group of Amazon augurs reached into the Great Unknown, discovered the 7P's nasty little plan and passed that knowledge to the others. Five augurs paid for that knowledge with their lives. It was not in vain,, one of the surviving augurs, Tad fi, was guided by the Amazon goddesses to bear that message to some knucklehead named Cáel Nyilas.

Said knucklehead took that piece of knowledge to the New York City head of the Earth & Sky and gifted him with Temujin's precise location as well as the fact that the 7P's were closing in on him. Thus Cáel saved Temujin's life and Temujin was very grateful.

Temujin, along with the E&S, immediately launched an attack against the little known region of China known as Aksai Chan. The People's Liberation Army (PLA) reacted confidently in this opening action of war, and saw the annihilation of much of the PLA's mobile forces along the Kazakhstan-Chinese border.

That however was only a highly visible diversion. The real 'first strike' was on the People's Republic of China in the form of an anthrax attack in several western Chinese cities. The plan was to prompt the Chinese to initiate preventative vaccine inoculations for their military and security forces, because the E&S had lethally compromised the PRC's vaccine system. So the PRC actually gave the anthrax bacterium to their own forces.

A multitude of Chinese soldiers, airmen and sailors died. The E&S also subverted the governments of Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan and then announced the creation of a new Central Asian state, colloquially known as the Khanate. Bad things continued to happen to the PLA and the PRC. Soon, Azerbaijan, Tajikistan, Turkey and Turkmenistan joined the Khanate.

Khanate forces, organized into tumens (units of 10,000 men), rapidly overran all of the regions and provinces of Gansu, Nei Mongol, Ningxia Hui Autonomous Region, Qinghai, and Xinxiang Uyghur Autonomous Region as well as most of Yunnan and over half of Sichuan provinces.

At the same time, with the aid of the afore-mentioned knucklehead, the Khanate manipulated Russia into 'intervening to preserve order', aka 'stealing', Manchuria (the provinces of Heilongjiang, Jilin and Liaoning), thus denying the PRC of major industrial and petroleum centers. Temporarily unable to defend themselves, the PRC agreed to a six-month cease fire on August 20th. In the closing hours before the ceasefire took effect, the Khanate also managed to seize every island outpost of China in the South China Sea (excluding the big island of Hainan).

After the ceasefire, the Khanate managed to convince Albania, Armenia and Georgia to join the Khanate because (for the second two) being caught between militarily powerful Turkey and oil-rich Azerbaijan had them nervous and the Khanate's offer of union was hard to pass up. A coup in Afghanistan dropped that country into the Khanate's lap as well.

At the start of the crisis, the United States and the United Kingdom desperately needed insight into the changing situation in Asia, so they formed JIKIT (Joint International Khanate Interim Taskforce). For convoluted reasons, this group include the same knucklehead referenced earlier as well as a dozen highly qualified intelligence experts and Foreign Service operatives. JIKIT broke all kinds of rules, laws and guidelines in creating a mutually supportive relationship with the Khanate, up to and including sending Special Forces operators from their respective countries into the PRC to help the Khanate forces.

Unknown to the two governments they supposedly work for, JIKIT formed alliances with not only the Earth & Sky, but also the Amazons, the Black Lotus (the Chinese secret society resisting the 7P's) and the 9 Clans (a coalition of the world's best assassins, which included the Black Lotus and the Seven (now Six) Families of the Ninja). In doing so, JIKIT became involved in a shadow war going on between their allies and the alliance of the 7P's and the Condottieri (aka 'Global Mercs are Us').

Anyway, using the Paracel and Spratly Island holdings as a springboard, the Khanate formed an alliance with India and Vietnam who were bent on dividing up the area's oceanic resources before the PRC could return to prominence. In order to secure their frontiers, this regional group has become involved with the popular rising in Thailand (see Chapter 42) on the rebel side. A civil war is about to break out and now the world was holding its breath because the US was threatening to become militarily involved on the side of the Thai government forces. Which brings us to my apartment.

Note: End what's wrong with them world.

{4:00 pm, Saturday, August 30th ~ 9 Days to go}

"Hey Anais, what are you doing here?" flowed from my lips before I engaged my brain. I was in a rush.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she stood up. She had been sitting in the hallway, her ass on the ground and her knees up.

"You gave me neither your phone number nor my Serge," she explained. She looked past me to Pamela.

"My bad. My private number is 917-555-7399 (that's (an area code of NYC), (Hollywood nonsense), sexy for the curious. We can get your Serge right now," I said as I slipped past her.

"You would be the spiritual grandmother & retired assassin?" she looked over at Pamela.

"You must be something people have sex with, then get accused of bestiality," Pamela zinged right back.

"You are rude," Anais's eyes narrowed.

"And you have made the mistake of bringing an attitude to a gunfight, Princess," Pamela mocked her.

"Pamela, don't," I pleaded.

"But she's French," Pamela smirked. "I hate the French."

"She's Quebecois, not French. And since when have you hated the French?"

"Since about five seconds ago. It came over me like a premonition, or maybe a past life experience."

"Who were you Lionel of Wandomme?" Anais refused to give an inch for the sake of civility. Pamela was a hopeless case, which pretty much defined Anais as well. (Ole Lionel was the nobleman who took the surrender of Joan of Arc)

"No, I was Pierre Cauchon," Pamela grinned.

"Who?" I worked my key into the lock.

"He was the Bishop of Beauvais," Anais enlightened me. "He was the man who condemned Saint Joan to the flames."

"How do you know that?" I unlocked the door.

"She has a well-developed knowledge of hypocrites," Pamela snorted.

"I learned of him when I studied how religious/political views can lead to a miscarriage of justice."

"Pamela, stop, please," I groaned.

"Why?"

"Because I love you?"

"That's pathetic," Pamela shook her head.

"Because you like me?"

"I love you more than I do my own grandchildren. And I am forever picking on you for your own spiritual growth, of course," she snickered.

"Cáel, how do you know this woman?" Anais turned her anger on me. I walked into my apartment, Anais and Pamela continued eyeing each other, neither one wanting to turn their back on the other. Anais was doing it because Pamela was dangerous. Pamela was doing it because she had the inexplicable desire to make Anais miserable.

"She's my knife instructor at Havenstone."

"Have you ever stabbed a person?"

"Perhaps. I've hit my fair share and shot a few. I like to think I haven't stabbed anyone who didn't derserve it. Besides, I prefer tomahawks."

"Tomahawks? You prefer to hit people with tomahawks instead of knives?"

"He's a lousy student," Pamela teased.

"Pamela, give it a rest," I sighed. "Anais has decided to stop sleeping with me. We are trying to part on amicable terms."

"She's giving up that cock? I don't think so," Pamela shook her head.

"You speak from experience?" Anais glared back.

"I speak from the experience of seeing women fight over him, Baby-cakes."

"My name is Anais Saint-Amour."

"I know that. I chose to denigrate you instead," Pamela responded.

"Why are you acting like this?" Anais frowned. "What have I ever done to you?"

"I'm doing it because he cares for you and that's counter-productive to what he should be doing," Pamela stated.

"What? He loves plenty of women."

"No. He loves one woman, but she has set him adrift, so he meanders from woman to woman who want to 'change him' and 'make him a better man', as if the real Cáel wasn't good enough," she gave a blistering retort.

I was busy retrieving her clothes bag and boot box (so they didn't get dusty).

"Who does he love?"

"It isn't love like you think of it. It's not a burning romance. It is the love of companionship and mutual respect and I am afraid he'll never recapture that level of devotion and passion," Pamela continued.

"Who is she talking about?" Anais asked me.

"Kimberly," I said sadly. "She taught me to, Damn Pamela," I looked to my current mentor because she had reminded me of the woman who had helped create the man I was today. Dr. Kimberly Geisler had shown me that I shouldn't be ashamed of who I was.

People only became screwed up if they allowed events to screw them up. Personal responsibility and acceptance, that I could be a somewhat selfish prick who thought with his cock more than his head, yet never abused a lover even though I'd let far too many women down. No jealousy. No emotional regrets. And flesh healed.

I missed Kimberly, but there was no going back, to college, or the boy I had once been. I could be a bang-up Dad if I passed those lessons on instead of moping about a tragedy beyond my control. I could forgive Dot Ishara now because she was who she was and expecting her to change for me was the ultimate act of selfishness. Learn, grow, move on.

"Thanks Pamela," I whispered.

"You are welcome, Wakko," she replied softly. She was close to tears, as was I.

"What am I missing here?" Anais looked from one to another.

"I'm not going to be a good father if I try to be what I think a father should be. I need to be the man I am, to be truthful and trusting others to let them find their own way without foisting my expectations on them."

"This isn't about me, is it? This is about your nightmare," Anais reasoned.

"Bingo," I smiled compassionately. "You may be the very best investigator I've ever met."

"I apologize Anais Saint Amour. Sometimes Cáel need to be tricked in order to teach him a life lesson," Pamela grinned.

"You are still rude," Anais griped.

"And you are still thinking about how much better your life would be with Cáel in it."

"On that sour note, Anais, here is your stuff as promised," I handed her the gear.

"In a hurry?" she inquired.

"I'm expecting company," I said.

"What's she like?" Yep. Abysmal trust issues.

"Why do you think, no, it is business," I promised.

"Mr. Nyilas?" A woman asked from the door we'd left open.

"Oh crap," I groaned.

She was pretty damn sexy with her closely-cropped black hair and an aura that expressed 'I'm physically fit, living healthy and feel comfortable lying to people about what I do for a living'.

She was wearing a long coat, despite it being summer in NYC. She'd also brought some friends who I couldn't see yet.

"Yes, that would be me," I bowed to the inevitable.

"Who is she with?" Anais glowered. "CIA? SVR RF (that would be the Russian CIA)? Interpol? Spector? The 2nd Department of the PLA General Staff HQ (that would be mainland China's CIA/DIA)? The World Crime League (look it up)? I seriously doubt she is with SCRS (that would be the Service canadien du renseignement de s curit  ~ the Canadian CIA)."

Damn it! Why was I still getting the 3rd degree? Hadn't we broken up?

"My guess is the DOD," Pamela mused. "Most likely the Defense Clandestine Service."

The stranger's mouth gaped open for a second. She might have recovered fast enough, had I not worked with an insane warrior culture.

"Anais, this is work. You need to be going now," I insisted.

"Here Anais, have a gun," Pamela pulled one from her lower back. "This is going to be a ballet worth remembering."

"Who are these women?" the stranger asked. Her visual clues confirmed there were people behind her in the hall.

"Pamela, rogue octogenarian paramilitary insurgent," I made the introductions. "Anais is a Jedi vigilante mime."

Blink.

"They are my bodyguards."

"I am not your bodyguard," Anais snipped. Hey, she was pretty and dangerous enough to qualify, plus she had the 'beat me like a little bitch' down pat.

"Hush," I chided. "Mimes don't talk."

Anais took the offered gun.

"Don't make me shoot you," Anais hissed.

"You reallymake a lousy mime," Pamela joked.

 To be continued.

By FinalStand for Literotica.