Stones of Fire

‘Umm… you just hit the sweet spot,’ Edie crooned, leaning back on her hands, her hips coming several inches off the bed. Again proving the bumblebee a poor choice for a tattoo. A few moments later she pulled away from him. ‘That’s way more than I can handle. Too much more and I’ll fall overboard.’

Not about to let her escape, he clambered onto the bed. Covering her body with his, he took a swollen nipple into his mouth and suckled. As he did, he thrust into her. Deeply. Forcefully. Their two bodies melded into one.

Who possessed whom in that instant, he couldn’t say.

Levering his torso away from her breasts, C?dmon raised himself onto his forearms. Edie unabashedly stared at the in-and-out movement of his sex.

‘Now that is what I call a Kodak moment,’ she said with a husky laugh.

‘If you pull out a bloody camera, I’m leaving.’

‘I wouldn’t have taken you for the modest type,’ again she laughed, ‘Big Red.’

Sliding a proprietary hand beneath her hips, he angled her up. ‘I can’t take credit for the colour and the size is entirely your fault.’

‘Oh, God, that feels —’

‘Better,’ he grunted, pressing her thighs to her chest, increasing the friction.

‘Umm… just like that… perfect.’ Smiling, she grasped him by the shoulders. ‘Is this totally crazy or what?’

His climax fast approaching, he somehow found the wherewithal to say, ‘Actually, this is the one sane act in a world gone mad.’

77

It was a moment of quiet intimacy. Of murmured endearments. Life slowed down to its simplest, most lovely, facet.

In the midst of the quietude, Edie felt a spark. She snuggled closer to C?dmon, burrowing her head into the crook of his bare shoulder. This not being the first time she’d felt the spark, she wondered if anything would come of it.

Could anything come of it?

On paper she gave their relationship the shelf life of a carton of milk. If that. They were simply two sexually healthy people caught up in the excitement of the moment. Although, glancing at the small clock mounted on the wall, she could see that the excitement had lasted quite a few hours.

‘You do know that this… this attraction is nothing more than a primitive urge,’ she said, propping her head on his chest.

‘Perhaps it must be primitive in order for us to forget our preconceived notions of what should and shouldn’t be.’

Hmm… it sounded as though he’d given their relationship more than a passing thought.

‘And maybe Freud was right — about there being no such thing as pure unadulterated love. Maybe there’s sexual need and nothing else,’ she countered, testing him.

‘I suspect Freud was an impotent bugger who wouldn’t have known love if it had slapped him in his bearded face. Let’s not analyze it; let’s just accept it, whatever it is, as a beginning. Tentative and tenuous perhaps, but a beginning nonetheless.’

She smiled, C?dmon having passed the test with flying colours.

‘Agreed. But if you think I’m one of those women who’d settle for a man just because he puts down the toilet seat, think again.’

‘Point taken. Although I hope I get several bonus points for being considerate.’

‘Change of subject,’ she announced. ‘I’m curious as to what would have happened if you had stayed at Oxford and received your doctorate?’

‘You mean how my life would have unfolded?’ When she nodded, he said, ‘In a very conventional way, no doubt. I would have got a college post, most likely at Queen’s. At which point my life would have become a steady stream of tutorials, committee meetings and university functions.’

‘You know, I’m one of those people who believe that things happen for a reason. Personally, I don’t think you were meant to live a sheltered life. Just look at Sir Kenneth Campbell-Brown. Okay, the man is brilliant, but he’s also a confirmed alcoholic bachelor. You were meant for a better life.’

Smiling, C?dmon brushed his lips against hers. ‘At the mention of the path not taken, I feel strangely glad.’

‘Me too.’

‘Bloody hell,’ he abruptly exclaimed a half-second later. ‘How do terrorists communicate with one another?’

Surprised by the unexpected question, she lifted a shoulder. ‘Beats me. Although I suspect the answer is not carrier pigeons.’

‘Correct. They communicate via the internet,’ he informed her, his blue eyes shining. ‘Which enables them to pass messages to cells and operatives all over the globe. Perhaps MacFarlane and his Warriors of God are no different.’

‘Okay, suppose that’s true. How does the message on Sanchez’s cell phone fit in? I thought that was how MacFarlane was communicating with his men.’

‘When we first received the flash message, I thought that a communique had been encoded into the numbers and that an encryption key would be needed to decipher the message. But what if the list of numbers is the encryption key?’

‘Sorry, I’m not following.’ Edie propped her head on her hand.

‘Knowing he can’t be too careful about sending messages across the globe, MacFarlane might have devised a two-part mode of communication. The first part being the numeric list that was sent to Sanchez’s mobile phone.’

‘And the second?’

‘Mind you, this is mere speculation, but the second piece of the puzzle might be the Warriors of God website.’

‘You’re talking about the website we checked out back in DC, right?’

C?dmon shrugged. ‘As I said, it’s only a theory.’

‘So, let me make sure I’ve got this straight,’ she said, still uncertain how all the pieces fitted together. ‘You think there might be a message encoded in the Warriors of God web page and that this message can only be decoded using the numeric list from the text message.’

‘There’s only one way to find out. Unless I’m mistaken, this boat is equipped with Inmarsat.’

‘What’s that?’

‘A mobile communications system that enables internet access while at sea.’

Throwing back the sheet, Edie swung her feet to the floor. ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’

78

‘Doom and gloom of the worst sort, eh?’

Sitting side by side in front of the ship’s computer monitor, Edie and C?dmon stared at the Warriors of God home page.

Unnerved by its apocalyptic content, Edie shuddered. ‘You don’t really think there’s a secret message buried somewhere, do ya?’

Leaning back in his chair, C?dmon tapped his index finger against his chin. Several seconds passed in