Second That Emotion
By
Latikia
Copyright © 2006
Chapter 28
Jill and Anya joined us in the living room, Anya looking much better than before. Her hair was clean and blow dried, and she was wearing a fresh orange jumpsuit and tennis shoes.
Dr. Wills sent Jill back to her office, and Mr. Jones, the Doctor, Anya and I piled into the SUV and headed back to CIA headquarters.
“I’ve been wondering,” I said as we drove out of
“Believe it or not, Theology. I was an Episcopal Bishop before I took this job.”
“Kind of an odd career path you’ve chosen.” I said.
“You have no idea how often I’ve thought the very same thing.”
“Have you ever been sorry you took the job?”
“Not until recently. But more than anything else, it’s been a matter of reexamining what I think this job should be and could be, versus what I’m sure the politicians would prefer it to be.”
“Something along the lines of a Torquemada, perhaps?” I joked.
“See, I know you’re kidding, but the sad thing is there is a large contingent of our elected officials that would just love for that to happen. And the truly frightening thing is, you would be perfect for what they have in mind.”
“I’d never willingly go along with anything like that.”
“I know that…and I believe that they are just beginning to realize it as well. Which means there are going to be a lot of people who won’t be at all happy to see you take over from me.”
“Yeah. Ain’t it great to be popular?”
“It may be difficult to get you into Congress for the sub-committee meetings. If I were them, I’d have the Congressional Police looking for you as well as the Secret Service and the FBI…if they have as much pull as they appear to.”
“Thanks for reminding me…would it be possible to acquire the services of a first class makeup artist? My most identifiable feature is my skin, followed by my hair. If we can make my skin and hair color look less like me and more like someone else I might be able to get inside without being noticed.”
“An excellent idea. We’ll look into it. In the mean time, I’d suggest that you stay put on the ranch until it’s time to meet with Congress.”
“After I visit Walter Reed and after I kill the Director. Then I’ll sit tight.”
“I suppose it would be best to get rid of the Director first…the Deputy Director would only be a caretaker and probably wouldn’t be interested in continuing our current DCI’s foolish vendetta. But why do you want to go back to Walter Reed?”
“Anya says the Senator has someone from the Psych Ward in her pocket and I want to know who set me up.”
“You don’t think Colonel DeBerg is involved in this mess, do you?”
“I hope to hell not…I like the man and I trust him. If it turns out I’m wrong, I’m going to be extremely unhappy.”
Our arrival back at CIA headquarters turned into an event that I don’t believe anyone expected. Dr. Wills, Anya and I got out of the SUV and while Mr. Jones drove off to park the vehicle. The three of us walked inside and were immediately confronted by Agents and Security personnel. Guns were drawn, rifles were aimed, shotguns were in view along with tasers and even a grenade launcher. I was impressed. By my count there had to be more than forty armed men facing us.
“I haven’t seen this many men with guns looking to kill me
since I left
“Looks like the Director has decided to get pro-active.” Dr. Wills muttered.
Anya slipped in front of me, ready to shield me. I put my hands on her shoulders.
“Not yet…not just yet.” I said under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. “Doctor, do you see the Director anywhere around here?” I asked louder.
“No, I don’t.”
“Okay, fine…I’ve had enough of this shit. My move.”
‘Now? Can
I now, finally?’
“Fuck ‘em all.”
‘Yes! Who’s your Daddy, muthafuckas?’ the darkness bellowed. I linked with every single person in front of me, released the amplified and magnified female orgasms to the darkness who took the emotions and fucked the men in front of us with them. Emotionally fucked them. Jammed the sensations in and out and round and about, deeper and harder without compassion, sentimentality or concern for the effect such powerful female emotions would have on men.
The simple fact is that men are not designed to cope with the female orgasm. We can’t handle it. I’ve experienced them from the age of thirteen on and I can state for a fact that we just can’t handle them. Too strong and too long. We men like our orgasms short and sweet. Human male physiology is designed around the short orgasm, with a delay built in for recovery…a survival trait. It’s not known as the ‘little death’ for nothing. The female, on the other hand needed to stay put for a while to ensure fertilization would take place. So they got the longer, more disabling dose of fun, to keep them horizontal longer.
The CIA should have invested in more female agents and security guards, because every damn one of them in front of me was clutching his Johnson and making those faces that we secretly hope no one ever sees us make. They dropped like flies, hips thrusting uncontrollably and large dark stains taking shape around their zippers.
I leaned down near Anya’s right ear and growled. ‘Anyone who’s still standing, take their weapons away and break their arms.’
I pulled back from her taking Dr. Wills with me and we watched the show.
The girl was good. Smooth, fast and quick like you wouldn’t believe. Steven Segal on his best day with camera assistance wasn’t as smooth or fast. Jean Claude Van Damme was never remotely as flexible. The girl was damn good. I have no idea why she didn’t kill me the first time she had the chance. Maybe Dr. Rathbourne was right and I’m just really durable.
In a matter of six or seven minutes there wasn’t a standing guard or agent in the place. There were, however, plenty of moans and groans and voices pleading for either God or Mommy.
I looked over at Dr. Wills. “Think this might be a good time to go pay a visit to the Director’s office?”
He nodded his agreement. “Anya, grab a rifle and follow us. Guard our backs.”
I relieved two agents of their nine millimeter pistols and followed Dr. Wills who led the parade. We were off to see the Wizard and peak behind his curtain.
We avoided the elevators and took the stairs; the Doctor used his access card to get us thru the security doors. It took a little over twenty minutes, but we ended up standing in front of the offices of the Director and his immediate staff.
Dr. Wills walked up to the administrative assistant.
“I’m Dr. Wills, Deputy Director of Internal Security. I’d like to speak with either the DCI or the Deputy Director. Now!” he said forcefully.
The young man looked up at the tall older man then glanced around him to me and Anya, who was sweeping the room behind us with the M-16 she’d acquired.
“Uhmm…the DCI isn’t here right now sir, but the Deputy’s in his office. One moment please?” he stammered slightly and reached for the phone on his desk top.
“Son, if you’re even thinking of calling for security, I’d advise you to squash that thought.” Wills said sternly.
The man grimaced slightly and nodded his understanding. He lifted the receiver and punched a button.
“Sir, Dr. Wills would like a word with you right away.” He paused, listening. “Yes sir, Internal Security. Very urgent sir. Right away, yes sir.” He put the phone down and looked up. “He’s on his way out sir.”
“Thank you.” Dr. Wills said and put his hands behind his back and looked over the top of the man’s head, waiting patiently.
The young man looked as if he wished he were anywhere else.
We didn’t have to wait long before a man in his late middle years emerged from the back. He was stocky and graying, but his face and stance were those of a younger, physically capable man. He approached us without fear or worry.
“Dr. Wills, I haven’t seen you up here in quite some time. What can I do for you?” he said as he extended his hand to the older, taller man.
Dr. Wills shook the man’s hand and I felt him link. “Arthur, we have a serious problem on our hands. The Director has been conducting an unauthorized field operation here in the D.C. and Virginia area. A black op.”
The Deputy Director eyebrows went up. “Against who and for what reason?”
Dr. Wills turned and gestured at me. “Arthur Davenport, Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, meet Ike Blacktower, my designated successor.”
I nodded at the man and linked with him. He was controlled in the same way Anya was. His emotions were stable and low key, curiosity, concern, mild anger and outrage.
He looked at the Doctor again. “You can prove this charge?”
I spoke softly. “Anya, tell this man who you are and what you were ordered to do.”
In a calm and flat tone devoid of emotion, Anya gave her name, grade, ID number, access codes, and explained how the Director had lent her out to Senator Mortenson along with Wilson MacGruder to be infiltrated onto the Psych Ward at Walter Reed with the intent of getting them close enough to me so I could be eliminated as a successor to Dr. Wills.
The man behind the desk started stabbing away at his computer keyboard. Twenty seconds later he began reading aloud from the monitor screen.
“Anya Rasmussen, field operative, six years in the employ of the Agency, assigned to covert operation…operational specs are classified by the direct order of the DCI.”
“Christ on a crutch.”
“Yes sir.” More typing and we waited.
“Ms. Rasmussen, if you were sent to kill Mr. Blacktower, why
is he still alive?”
Anya looked at me. I nodded. “He is extremely hard to kill.” she said with a slight shrug.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Sergeant Ike Blacktower,
“Ike is the modest type, Arthur. If you ever get the chance, read his military file. It’s quite…interesting. I took him out of Walter Reed to help me interview a suspected foreign espionage agent we couldn’t crack. The man not only was a spymaster, but a serial killer the FBI was after. Ike got a full confession out of the man in less than an hour.”
The Deputy DCI smiled slightly. “I can see why you’d choose him to be your protégé. But why would the DCI and a Senator be so opposed to that choice?”
“The Senator and a Congressman, both of them on my oversight sub-committees, have made attempts to either kidnap or kill this man. The Congressman went so far as to blackmail my secretary, providing him with details of my arrangements to protect Sergeant Blacktower after he was hit by the car.”
“Sir?” the man at the computer interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Wilson MacGruder…he was a field agent with the
“Goddamn the man!”
“Mr. Davenport, I can fix this mess, with a minimum of muss and fuss. But it won’t be pleasant and it will put you in an awkward position.” I said.
“I think we should go someplace a bit more secure for this conversation.” Dr. Wills said pointedly.
“Agreed.”
“Don’t forget the mess in the lobby.” I reminded the Doctor.
“Right…thank you son. Arthur, a large number of agents and security personnel are currently cluttering up the lobby. It might be a good idea to have them cleared away.”
“Right away sir.”
The three of us followed the Deputy DCI into his office; he shut the door behind us and Anya stood next to it on the side of the doorknob, the rifle held across her body.
Dr. Wills and I sat down and
I carefully explained what I intended for the DCI, Senator and Congressman. He listened intently, growing amazement on his stony face.
He looked over at Dr. Wills, who nodded his agreement with my plan.
“You can actually do this?” he asked me.
“I will do this. The question here is whether or not you will go along with it? Mr. Davenport, these people have attacked me and people I care about. I’ve never even met these people and yet they want me dead. Why? Because I agreed to understudy Dr. Wills and someday take his job? Apparently they believe that their personal ambitions are more important than doing the jobs they were entrusted with. I do not agree with or condone those beliefs…it has to stop and if no one else will do it, I will.”
“I agree with your basic argument, but this is a country of laws and what you propose is hardly legal.”
“True enough. It’s not legal. On the other hand, what they’ve done is, in the strictest sense, quite legal. But it isn’t right and it isn’t just I happen to be a firm believer in justice, equally applied to everyone, regardless of wealth, position or power. Be honest with me here…if I were to bring charges against these three individuals, what chance is there that they’d be convicted or serve time for their actions?”
“None at all, I’m afraid.”
“Correct. There is law and there is justice, but for some people in our society these are meaningless words. I can’t change the whole country, but I can influence some of the people who influence the country.”
“Thank whatever god you pray to that he has no political ambition of his own, Arthur.” Dr. Wills said fervently.
“If it helps at all, I’d be much happier living out my days
far away from
There was a knock at the door. Anya brought up the rifle, the butt cocked for a kidney strike.
“Come!”
“Sir, the front gate informed me that the Director is on his way.”
“Thank you. Has the lobby been cleared yet?”
“Yes sir.”
“Fine. You stay in here. Mr. Blacktower, the ball is in your court. You realize that you’re going to leave me with one hell of a mess to clean up? Not to mention having to deal with a new Director, when Congress gets around to approving one?”
I shrugged and stood up.
“Anya, you stay here and guard Dr. Wills.”
“Yes sir.”
I walked out of the Deputy DCI’s office and sat on the front edge of the young man’s desk, crossed my arms and waited.
I spent my time picking out the emotions I wanted, forming them, amplifying and shaping them. Anger, rage, hate, terror, despair and death all twisted together and coated with a tasty glaze of female orgasm.
The Director of the CIA stepped out of the elevator, followed by his personal bodyguard, a huge sunglass wearing man with short cropped hair and hands as large as my head.
The Director was a short, pot bellied man in his sixties, a white fringe of hair around a shiny bald head, thick wire rimmed glasses and an expensive suit that looked cheap and wrinkled on his ungainly body. His pale, rheumy eyes opened wide when he saw me waiting for him.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Ike Blacktower.”
He stopped moving and was nearly run over by his enormous protector.
‘Roast the
cocksucker!’
“In due time. I want the Director to understand his error before he dies.”
‘Fuck that! Understanding an error is only useful if
you’re going to have the opportunity not to repeat it. He ain’t getting another chance.’
“Good point.”
I linked with the Director and locked the burning mass of emotion into him, cut the link and watched.
“Die, you pathetic excuse for a human being.” I growled.
Blood rushed to the Director’s face. He dropped his briefcase and his hands began to claw at his chest. He gasped and gagged as he tried to swallow his tongue, his knees gave way and he fell hard to the floor. Tears fell from his bulging eyes and blood leaked from his nose and ears. He farted loudly and shit himself, thrashed around for a moment or two then lay still and unmoving.
I looked across at the bodyguard who stood looking down at his charge. He looked up at me, unsure what to do.
“You might want to call 911.” I suggested, stood up and went back into the Deputy Director’s office.