Casing the Colors © Week 25

Casing the Colors © Week 25 • • • CHAPTER 43 • • In Rabat, after an elegant evening in the company of the king and the other Arab leaders, Alexei excused himself and Katharine, determined to have a real wedding night before events again swept them along. The Berber woman was waiting with iced vodka and champagne. The couple settled into a cushioned chaise in the garden and Alexei opened the champagne. "To my wife," he said, raising his glass, "may you never be less happy than you are tonight and may you always love me more." She responded, "May our children share our happiness." Her words startled him. "We will have children, won't we? We will have children," he repeated, letting the idea fill his spirit. "I hadn't thought of it until this moment. What a beautiful wedding gift you have given me." As they drank their champagne, the Berber woman quietly slipped away. "Can it really be true that we are alone for an entire night?" Kate asked. "This is real luxury." "Alone and very happy to be," Alexei said, pouring himself a glass of cold vodka. "Feel the breeze," he whispered. "It's like your touch." She looked up at the deep night sky. It was almost black, studded with silver stars shimmering with a heavenly electric pulse. The palace was sleeping, its daily routine ended. "It's perfect," she said. "But, our real honeymoon will begin in Russia, after our church wedding. I want to feel I'm part of your country, that it has welcomed me and made a place for us." They walked slowly around the garden pool, breathing in the spicy sweet odor of the night flowers blooming at its circular stone border. The weight of her passionless existence fell away as Alexei kissed her, making the night and its breezes and the flowery perfume part of their love. She leaned forward to look into the still pool, her figure small against Alexei's large outline. He smiled at the images in the water. She knew she was standing beside the man she could always love if the world just give them the opportunity. "You were a gift from the gods, Darling," Alexei whispered, "the gods who protect Russia and give it life when its own is failing. You were meant to be mine and Russia's. I knew it the instant I saw you." She kissed his hand, touching it to her breast. He kissed her again as he lowered her silk caftan. It dropped onto the path, leaving her naked. He kissed her mouth and breasts and knelt slowly, kissing her skin. His arms enveloped her as he lifted her up and carried her into the palace. In that night, they swept away time and age and became part of the austere beauty of the desert that, like Alexei, would haunt her forever. They were asleep in each other's arms, content to let the night go on unendingly, when Kate felt someone nearby. It was the Berber woman, her tall slim figure wrapped in a black caftan and scarf. "Madame, there is a man here to see you. An American." "It's Dave," Kate said, trying to wake up. "Tell him I'll be right out. Give him a scotch to keep him happy." "It's still dark," Alexei said, stirring. "What's wrong?" "It's Dave Browning. We'll have to talk to him," Kate said, putting on a caftan and smoothing her hair as Alexei found his robe. The shadowy forms of Alexei's security group stirring in the garden as she moved into the living room reminded Kate that she was indeed the wife of the president of Russia. "Dave, welcome to the other side of the world," she sparkled as she moved to embrace him. "How the hell are you, kid?" he asked as he hugged her. Then he stepped back and shook Alexei's hand, not sure what to say or do. "I want to introduce my husband, Alexei Katerinov." "My god, I had no idea. My god," he repeated. "You lucky bastard. Congratulations," he stammered reaching for Alexei's hand. They sat down and began to play a game Kate had played before, but never for such high stakes. "What's going on, Kate? Why are we in Rabat? Not just so I can dance with the bride." "Dave, a lot has happened since Veracruz. My husband has huge responsibilities of a completely different order. He's looking for the best solution to the terrorist problem, and so am I." "You see," Alexei continued, "we want to find a way to live with Carlos Miguel, if he will accept help for the people of Latin America. The Arabs are willing to work with him as well, if he will help deliver Raqqa to them. That's the price of admission into the legitimate world for Carlos." "Hell, why tell me?" Dave asked. "What can I do?" Dave's artless look reminded Kate of his reaction to Miguel's posturing in Veracruz. He drank his scotch and poured himself another. "Mr. Browning," Alexei said quietly, "we know who is feeding Raqqa information from inside the White House." "That's why I asked to see you here," Kate said. "We have two choices. Either we make our deal with the Arab world or we take out the traitor and carry on with the guerrilla war in the United States." Dave studied them with exquisite care. He poured a third scotch and settled back in his chair. "I should have known I couldn't fool you forever, kid," he laughed weakly. "How long have you known?" "Since George Morrison called you on the White House phone after I talked to him about the Pope. I was the only person who could have told George about the plan for the Pope. I saw the phone record. When the bomb went off at the Rome airport, I knew you were the link with Raqqa. George, you, Miguel, Raqqa. What in heaven's name were you hoping for, Dave?" "Hell, Kate, I don't know. Money, I suppose. Raqqa and Miguel paid damn well for the stuff George gave me for them...not money but deals and safe havens for my money when the US got too greedy. That's all over, I guess. What happens now?" "We need your help," Alexei answered, "and the Arabs are willing to pay more than you can imagine for it." "I can't believe it, kid, not you. You're the last person I ever expected to sell out for less than total victory. What happened to the American flag and all that patriotic fervor?" "Don't misunderstand, Dave. I'm not selling out. I'm shifting my work to a base in my husband's country, but it will help America, too." "It doesn't wash quite right, kid. What's the real story?" "America is on a long downhill slide," she said wearily, not sure how much of what she was saying was a cover story for Dave and Miguel and how much she meant. "I don't want to go down with the old America. Maybe we can save this screwed up world, but not with Scott Bennett leading the charge. He's still living in the 1970s. Help us, Dave, and maybe together we really can create a new American Agenda." She paused. Dave Browning sat facing her, passive. "You must have been terribly disillusioned, too, Dave," she continued, "or you wouldn't have decided to make a deal with Miguel and Raqqa." "Disillusioned? Maybe," he answered. "But, the deals were too good to pass up. You know me, kid, I can't resist a million dollars. Anyway, it seems we're all a little like old Mexican silver. Tarnished." "Not all of us," Alexei said. "My wife and I are trying to help the world survive." "Okay," Dave sighed. "I know when to fold. What do I have to do and how much do I get. And, for God's sake, Kate, protect me. Don't leave me dangling in front of these cutthroats." She held her hand out to him, hoping he would trust her for just a few more hours. "Dave, you know I'd never do that. If I thought I couldn't trust you, I wouldn't have asked you to come to Rabat. This situation is just as dangerous for me as it is for you. Maybe more. Your father isn't Chairman of the Joint Chiefs." "That's what I don't understand, Kate. How can you simply pull up stakes and become the first lady of Russia, or whatever the hell they call it in Moscow. How can you leave your father and Scott hanging? I know how much America means to you. Me, I'm not the same. For me it's a lot simpler. I love money and I've knocked around over so much of the world and seen so much of its ugly side that I really don't give a damn who's in charge as long as I live well." "Dave, I fell in love. And, Scott scares me because he feeds on all that's broken in America. And make no mistake. He is going to win. I know the country's political pulse well enough to be sure of that. If you want to consider your alternatives, think about Scott. He's the new American hero, conservative as hell and ready to shoot whatever gets in the way of his vision of the future." "All we want you to do," Alexei interjected, "is to arrange a meeting with Miguel and Raqqa. No risks. No bravery. Just a meeting. This morning three bank accounts are being opened in Geneva. Each account will contain fifty million dollars. That ought to interest Raqqa enough to get him to come to the meeting. You and Miguel will keep your account. The Moroccans will close Raqqa's account after he is in their hands." "What happens to me after Raqqa's eliminated?" Dave asked warily. We'll transfer your businesses to Geneva and you can go on as before with Mexico and Latin America. Very little will change, if you forget about tacos," she added. Dave laughed hard, half nerves, half relief. "Okay, doll. It sounds like a winner, and on my lawyer's advice, I'll give it a go. What the hell. I've taken bigger risks for less money." "The important thing is to get Raqqa to the meeting," Alexei said, "and oh yes," he added casually, "you will understand if my security people stay with you. We want nothing to go wrong." "You want to be sure I don't call Raqqa, you mean," Dave replied cynically. "Hey, I'm not such a goddamned fool that I don't know the difference between a body guard and house arrest. I've experienced both." "Dave," Kate said quickly, "it's not that. But, we've got a lot of money and lives on the line. We need to protect all of us, you as much as anyone." "Right," Dave shot back, "and who's watching you, Kate?" "I am," Alexei chuckled, his feigned locker room laugh breaking the tension. "Damn it, why don't you spend the night with the security boys, Alexei, and I'll watch Kate." "Whoa," Kate said, "this is my wedding night. Give me a break, will you?" "I'm on my way," Dave answered. "I could use a little sleep after the flight and I have the feeling breakfast is going to require a lot of attention." Alexei introduced Dave to his security guard. "You will enjoy this very special hotel, even with Russian company. I promise," he joked. As Dave left, followed by the security guard, Alexei found the vodka and poured two rather large glasses. He and Kate sat silent for a few minutes to give Dave time to get back to his room. Then Alexei sent the Berber woman to find Maurice Julien, who arrived quickly but with his pajama collar neatly showing over his silk robe. Maurice looked at the vodka. "My lord, man, can't you do better than that on your wedding night. This isn't Siberia." Alexei gave Maurice a crisp, heel clicking salute and downed the clear liquid. Then he brought out a bottle of champagne. "Will this do?" "Much better," Maurice said, "Now, tell me, how did Dave Browning react? I assume that's why you woke me at 4 a.m." "Fifty million dollars is more than Dave could possibly resist," Kate answered. "He is at this moment calculating interest payments and thinking about new worlds to buy. Later, he'll decide which side he's really on." "That, my dear General Julien, is one of my bride's more appealing traits," Alexei laughed. "She never loses sight of the essence of things. Except with me. Why she loves me remains a mystery." Kate put her hand on Alexei's arm and sighed comically. "Maurice, he's not too bright but he's cute." "Cute. How I hate that Americanism," Maurice replied, stunned by their easy intimacy and baiting her to hide his discomfort. "Why do American women persist in calling men cute?" "Oh, I suppose because you're all just a bit fragile, but eager, even determined, to appear brave." Alexei patted her hand to say well done. He asked General Julien what would happen at breakfast. "The king will explain the arrangement to Dave and tell him that Kate will go with him to Geneva. In reality, you'll all be there, a rendezvous of silent partners, to use Dave's argot. You won't need to do anything but agree, Mr. President." "If that's the case, you will understand if we get back to our wedding night." Alexei was already standing, holding out his hand for Kate to follow him. Maurice refilled his champagne flute and raised it toward them. "Enjoy yourselves, my dears," he said, recovering his composure. "There is nowhere on earth as sensual as Morocco." As they settled into bed again, Alexei put his arm around Kate and held her close, not passionately but as a young child holds it teddy bear to keep away the shadows of the night. "It's too bad Maurice never married," he said sleepily. "Too bad. Men need to be married to the woman they love. It makes life real." His voice trailed off and he was asleep as the first early morning palace sounds began in the distance.