“I applaud optimism,” said Pitt. “But what about our allies and the Russians? The Japanese may have hidden bombs under them too. Is the President going to warn their leaders of the possibility?”
“Not yet. The NATO nations can’t be trusted not to leak a secret this critical. On the other hand, the President may feel that letting the Kremlin in on it might tighten relations. Think about it. We’re both in the same boat now, both threatened suddenly by another superpower.”
“There is one other frightening threat.
“There’s so many, what have I missed?”
“Suppose Japan set off a few of the bombs in either the U.S. or Russia? We’d each think one attacked the other, go to war, and leave the crumbs for the wily Japs to pick over.”
“I don’t want to go to bed with that in my head,” said Jordan uneasily. “Let’s just take things as they come. If our operation is successful, then it’s in the hands of the politicians again.”
“Your last thought,” said Pitt, feigning apprehension, “would keep anyone awake nights.”
He was just dozing off when the security chime alerted him to the presence of someone trying to enter the hangar. Forcing himself from his comfortable bed, he walked into the study and turned on a small TV monitoring system.
Stacy Fox was standing at the side entrance door staring up and smiling into what Pitt thought was his well- camouflaged hidden security camera.
He pressed a switch, and the door opened. Then he walked out and stood on the stairway balcony.
She stepped into the hangar looking sexy yet demure in a blue collarless jacket, a matching slim skirt, and a jewel-neck white blouse. She moved slowly amid the array of grand machinery in reverent amazement. She stopped at a beautiful 1948 metallic blue Talbot-Lago Grand Sport coupe with special coachwork by a French body maker known as Saoutchik and lightly ran her fingers over one fender.
She was not the first. Almost every woman who ever visited Pitt’s unusual living quarters was drawn to the Talbot. He saw it as a masterpiece of mechanical art, but women felt a sensual attraction when they gazed upon it. Once they saw the sleek, almost feline, flow of the body, sensed the fierce power of the engine, and smelled the elegant leather of the interior, the car became an erotic symbol.
“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice echoing around the vast interior.
She looked up. “I studied your packet for two days before I flew out to the Pacific and boarded the
“Find anything interesting?” he asked, annoyed that his life was laid bare for anyone with the authority to break his privacy.
“You’re quite a guy,
“Flattery indeed.”
“Your car collection is breathtaking.
“There are many larger collections with more expensive models and makes.”
She turned back to the Talbot-Lago. “I love this one.”
“I prefer the green town car next to it.”
Stacy turned and peered at the Stutz as if she was studying a manikin modeling a dress at a fashion show. Then she shook her head. “Handsome but massive, too masculine for a woman’s taste.”
Then she stared up at him again. “Can we talk?”
“If I can stay awake. Come on up.”
She climbed the circular stairs, and he gave her a brief tour of the apartment. “Can I get you a drink?” Pitt asked.
“No thanks.” She stared at him, and compassion came to her eyes. “I shouldn’t have come. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
“I’ll bounce back after a good night’s sleep,” he said ruefully. “What you need is a good back rub,” she said unexpectedly.
“I thought you came to talk.”
“I can talk while I rub. Swedish or shiatsu? What method of massage do you prefer?”
“What the hell, do both.
She laughed. “All right.” She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom and pushed him facedown on the bed. “Take off your robe.”
“Can’t I keep my modesty with a sheet?”
“You have something I haven’t seen before’?” she said, pulling the sleeves of the robe from his arms.
He laughed. “Don’t ask me to turn over.
“I wanted to apologize before Tim and I leave for the West Coast,” she said seriously.
“Tim?”
“Dr. Weatherhill.”
“You’ve worked together before, I assume.
“Yes.”
“Will I see you again sometime?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Our missions may take us in different directions.” She hesitated a moment. “I want you to know I feel badly about the trouble I’ve caused. You saved my life, and because I took up extra space in the last submersible, you almost lost yours.”
“A good massage and we’ll call it even,” Pitt said, flashing a tired smile.
She looked down on his outstretched body. “For living underwater for four months, you have a good tan.”
“My gypsy blood,” he slurred in a sleepy voice.
Using finger pressure of the basic shiatsu technique, Stacy pressed her fingers and thumbs into the sensitive areas of Pitt’s bare feet.
“That feels great,” he murmured. “Did Jordan brief you on what we learned about the warheads?”
“Yes, you threw him a curve. He thought you had walked out on him. Now that Tim and I know exactly where to target our investigation, we should make good progress at pinpointing the bomb cars.”
“And you’re going to probe the West Coast ports.”
“Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles are the ports where the Murmoto auto carriers dock.”
Pitt went silent as Stacy worked up his legs, combining shiatsu with Swedish kneading methods. She massaged his arms, back, and neck. Then she lightly slapped him on the buttocks and ordered him to turn over, but there was no response.
Pitt was dead asleep.
Sometime during the early morning hours he came awake, feeling her body wildly entangled with his. The movements, the sensations, the soft cries of Stacy’s voice, came through the mist of exhaustion like a dream. He felt as though he was soaring through a thunder and lightning storm before it all faded and he plunged into the black void of deep sleep again.
“Surprise, sleepyhead,” said Congresswoman Loren Smith, trailing a finger down Pitt’s back.
Pin’s mind brushed away the cobwebs as he rolled onto his side and looked up at her. She was sitting cross- legged in bare feet on the empty side of the bed wearing a flowered cotton knit top with a crew neckline and sage- green sailcloth pants with pleats. Her hair was tied back with a large scarf.
Then suddenly he remembered and shot an apprehensive look at the opposite side of the bed. To his lasting relief, it was empty.
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing wondrous deeds in Congress?” he asked, secretly pleased Stacy had left before Loren arrived.
“We’re in recess.” She held a cup of coffee out of his reach, tempting him.
“What do I have to do for the coffee?”
“Cost you a kiss.”
“That’s pretty expensive, but I’m desperate.”
