Nssm 200 - The Milieu Derivative

  The next few days sailed by, much too quickly. His job was to get in, extricate the information, and then get out. Instead he found himself trapped in a recurring dilemma. His admiration for Maria grew by the day. Her endless patience, care and willing self-sacrifice speared into the heart of his conscience. How could he betray this wonderful woman, after everything he’d done to drag her to her knees, wounded and bleeding from the suffering he’d imposed?

  A would-be author had been his cover story so he made every effort to ensure she saw him tapping away at a laptop whilst hiding from the basking heat under an umbrella. He’d always believed he lacked the imagination to write a book yet the story began to take shape, though it helped he was writing from personal experience. At times his concentration became so intense he would lose track of time, broken by the four sets of legs suddenly appearing in front of him. One look into the pleading eyes and he surrendered to the demands for attention, allowing Maria to take full advantage of some serious sun time. The upside was that he didn’t have to argue with the modern kitchen appliances, Maria considerately stirring up an extra plate for the evening family meal. And the fare provided was extraordinarily tasty.

  “It’s very good. I’m impressed,” she said, on his return from inside after setting the dishwasher away.

  He’d hoped she’d read his words, it was to be the basis of his introduction to tonight’s topic of conversation.

  “Early days,” he said. “Since you put that doubt in my mind I question whether it could actually happen. I mean, is it truly believable a Government would take the decision to implement such a drastic measure, even if it had the capacity.”

  “The way the world is now, who knows?” she said.

  He used the lull to gather his thoughts.

  “I don’t suppose you ever worked in Government circles.”

  “Me, no,” she said. “Microbiology used to be my field.”

  “Really?” he said.

  His surprise caused her to laugh.

  “I was not always a mother.”

  “What field of science were you in?”

  It took her a few moments to answer.

  “Virology,” she eventually said. “Particularly in relation to understanding various forms of cancer and the ongoing search for effective viral treatments,” she added.

  “Wow. Do you miss it?”

  “I miss the challenge of working under pressure against the clock, the science. John would have been a better person for you to talk to, if it is the political dimension which interests you.”

  “John?”

  “My late husband,” she said. “He would stalk the corridors of power at the heart of Government. If there was one person who could have provided you with an authoritative insight on the subject it would have been him.”

  He smiled feebly.

  “Sounded like he would have been ideal,” he said. “Do you miss him?”

  She tipped her head to the side while considering the question.

  “How do you miss someone you hardly ever saw? John was married to his job, work being both his wife and mistress. On the few occasions he did have the time, or even bother, to come home …well, you can see the outcome.”

  His gaze travelled to the four young children, doing their best to keep each other entertained until given the instruction to resume their boisterous enjoyment of the pool.

  “You have not had an easy life.”

  “All army wives become widows the day they wed. More so to those who have the drive and ability to climb up from the lower ranks,” she said.

  “Your husband was army? For a moment I thought you said he …”

  “Career advancement,” she said. “John started in the army and was selected to join an elite unit. From there it was a short hop to intelligence and counter terrorism. I did my best to persuade him otherwise but his mind was set immediately. My patriotic duty, he kept saying. How could a wife argue against the call of duty?”

  “Do you regret …”

  “The children, no,” she said. “They are everything to me and could not imagine life without them. My gain has been John’s loss.”

  “I meant getting married, to someone as committed to work as he obviously was. It must have placed considerable strain on the relationship,” he said.

  She thought long and hard about her answer.

  “There were many years between John and I. It is the familiar tale of a young woman blinded by the magnificence of the masculine form at its peak. John was bold, confident and fearless. Everything I was not. My mother did try to warn me, that he was the type of man who could not be confined or be monogamous. But, like all besotted post teenagers released from the confines of higher education, my coloured vision of life was fixed. It did not take long to discover John’s frailties. The gloss of marriage lasted for as long as it took him to tire of both me and of domesticity. By then I had been persuaded to adapt to a life of housekeep and to raise children. John was insistent we should have many young.”

  “Did he ever …?”

  “Of course,” she said, completing the sentence. “There was one in particular. Her scent would still be on him when he came home. It was almost as if, for this one, he wanted me to know of the woman’s existence in his life. I naturally behaved as though I had not noticed.”

  “Why?”

  Her shoulders raised in a subtle shrug.

  “Life had been lonely and took its toll, confidence sapped by the years. And I had always believed, once he became too old for his job, that age would settle his restless spirit for our later years. It was not to be. After he died, I reverted to my maiden name and chose to return to my homeland.”

  “For some reason I thought you were Spanish.”

  “Portuguese,” she corrected.

  “At least you will have had your mother to help.”

  Another subtle shrug emerged.

  “She has not forgotten my disobedience to her advice.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The children compensate. Perhaps it is why John wanted me to have them,” she replied with a wistful smile.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He was killed while on duty abroad, by a terrorist.”

  “A terrorist?” said Matt.

  “John told me some fool had hacked into and downloaded sensitive files and he had been charged with the responsibility for recovering the information. By the time he’d caught up with the hacker the files had been passed on to someone else leading John to believe a network was in place. He left soon after and I never saw him again”

  “How can you be sure a terrorist killed him?”

  “This is what they said when they came to tell me. A few days earlier John called to say he had located the person they were tracking and hoped it would soon be over. The next thing I knew they were knocking on my door.”

  “What was so important about this information?”

  “I don’t really know. John said there was a danger the new person in possession of the files could ruin everything if he managed to breach them.”

  “Do you know what he was talking about?”

  “No. This was as much as he felt able to tell me.”

  Her fidgety gaze told him there was more. The trick now was to extract the rest without revealing his true purpose.

  “What about you?” she asked unexpectedly, turning the nature of the conversation. “You said you have a partner?”

  “Yes.”

  “And no children?” she asked.

  “No.”

  He felt awkward.

  “The book,” he said. “I needed some space.”

  “She is very understanding.”

  “Yes, she is,” he replied after a pause.

  Maria turned her head and looked him in the eye.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Are we allowed into the pool now?” said a child’s voice.

  “Yes, but be careful. I do not want to suffer another repeat of what happe
ned to Tessa.”

  The four youthful bodies charged into the water, like penned salmon released from captivity. Within moments two young faces popped up from the water’s edge and peered at him.

  “Will you come and play with us, Matt?”

  Maria smiled.

  “You are in demand.”

  “Seems like it,” he said. “Do you mind if …”

  “Mind?” she laughed. “I think you must have caught too much sun today to think I would object for an hour or two.”

  “An hour or two?” he said.

  “You are young and energetic. Go play,” she said, slipping the ridiculously large sunglasses over her eyes.

  He watched her settle back on the sun bed, unable to conceal the impish grin.

  “Matt, are you coming?” asked the two children in stereo.

  She raised her head and the grin widened into a full smile.

  “What are you waiting for? Go, go,” said Maria.

  The question mark fell into place at the same time the glass tumbler appeared to the side. She pulled up a chair to sit next to him and peered at the screen.

  “That should be an exclamation.”

  His fingers lifted cautiously from the keyboard.

  “Here, let me,” she said.

  He sat glued to the screen as she replaced the errant piece of grammar, feeling his muscles tighten.

  Shouldn’t you be typing, she tapped into the keyboard.

  You’re too close. It’s distracting me, he typed in.

  He sensed her head turn, a questioning look on her face as she closely examined his taut features. To return her steady gaze could lead him into dangerous territory he realised. But only one more day remained for him to secure the information he needed. His mind churned with uncertainty.

  You have someone in your life, she typed in.

  Yes, he replied instantly on the screen.

  This is the reason why nothing will happen, so you should not allow yourself to be distracted.

  I’ve never wanted anything to happen with you, he replied on the screen.

  Her quizzical expression remained for a while, longer than he was comfortable with, and he’d hoped he hadn’t upset Maria. Then it converted to an amused smile.

  So you are saying I am unattractive now, she tapped in.

  Quite the opposite, he responded after a lengthy, awkward pause.

  What’s your next line?

  He paused.

  I don’t know. You’ve made me lose my train of thought, he typed in.

  Both were now conscious of the possibilities.

  Then I shall leave you alone to concentrate on your book, she entered.

  Maria leaned forward, hesitated, and then planted a light kiss to his cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “A thank you,” she said.

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed, as if perplexed. Then her right hand skipped against the keys.

  I did.

  His hand folded over hers.

  “Thank you,” he said, glancing nervously into her eyes. “For the thank you kiss,” he added.

  I’m going now, she typed in.

  Matt clumsily removed the hand and held his breath. This is wrong, he kept telling himself, on so many levels. There had to be another way of tracing Rosa. He attempted to enter words into his manuscript and got them wrong. She nudged several times at the backspace button and the text retreated to the last full stop. Instinctively he shut his eyes in the hope she would magically disappear. He heard a movement, suggesting she was about to leave and retire to the nearest sun bed. He re-opened his eyes and focussed on the screen, feeling paralysed with uncertainty, much like a rabbit caught in headlights. Her face was closer, too close. The touching of lips lasted longer than he expected. Her arms snaked around his neck and they kissed again, much more than a gentle coming together of lips on this occasion. He could taste the malt whisky in her mouth, smell her sweet scent. Competing emotions swirled around in his head, the rights and the wrongs of this illicit liaison, but there was no denying the physical urge.

  Heartbeats rapidly accelerated at the increasing frenzy of their embrace … and then slowed as she unexpectedly lifted her head away to look into his eyes. He could see the passion and the doubt, all mixed together.

  Maria reached behind her back and unfastened the clips of her bikini top. He eased the straps off her slender shoulders, and cupped the ample bosom in his hands. Lowering his head, his mouth surrounded the urgently erect nipples in turn and she groaned, pressing his head to her chest.

  His arm stole behind her knees and he stood, immediately conscious the plastic chair remained wedged to his body. She laughed and pushed it away and he carried her to the closest sun bed. He laid her down, the irises of her eyes widened with excitement and expectancy as he knelt down beside her. Maria lifted her body to push down the bikini bottoms.

  “No,” he said. “Let me.”

  She tore at the buttons of his short sleeved linen shirt and he threw it uncompromisingly to the floor before joining her on the firm sun bed. Lips pressed hard together as their hands swept around the contours of their meshed bodies for minutes on end. Maria raised her arms above her head and he gorged once more on her ample bosom, the circular movements of his tongue causing her to shiver and shudder with unadulterated pleasure.

  He slipped off the sun bed to allow his mouth to trail down the olive skin of her stomach, her hands reacting by gripping at his hair to urge him on. Fingers slipped lightly beneath the rim of her bikini briefs as he began the sensual unwrapping of her femininity. He could hear her breathing resort to short and heavy gasps in anticipation of what was to come.

  And then he stopped.

  Matt lifted his head from her trembling frame and sank back on to his rear.

  “What is wrong?”

  “I can’t do this,” he said.

  “What do you mean you cannot do this?” she protested, sitting bolt upright to glare into his eyes.

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Matt turned his gaze to the shimmering water of the pool, focussing the mind on restoring his breathing to its natural rhythm. He could sense her confusion.

  “Why can’t you do this?”

  He shook his head.

  “It would be the wrong thing to do,” he said, now looking to the ground.

  “There did not seem too much wrong a few moments ago. I do not understand your sudden change.”

  He knew he had to somehow find the courage to face down her anger and offer an explanation. The hurt of rejection in her eyes speared into his soul the moment he looked at her. She reacted by covering her modesty with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  “This is wrong,” he said. “It’s my mistake. I’ve made a terrible error.”

  He didn’t intend to use those exact words.

  “So now I am an error?”

  He’d made a bad situation worse. Maria jumped up from the sun bed and sped inside without a word. Instinct caused him to rise and follow. He caught up with her in the kitchen, head cradled in her hands. She made a distinct point of turning her back on seeing him. His sudden rejection of her long pent up, suppressed, desire must have felt to her like an abject humiliation.

  “Maria …”

  “My body is repulsive to you.”

  “No, quite the opposite,” he said.

  “The children?” she asked. “I never sought a commitment from you.”

  “No.”

  “Neither had you to be concerned with consequence, for I can no longer conceive.”

  “That’s not the reason.”

  “Then what is the reason?”

  “It would be wrong.”

  “You have already said that. Why is it wrong? Is it because you have a partner?”

  “That as well,” he said.

  “As well as what?” she demanded to know.

  He took a deep breath. It was time. Matt held her
gaze and looked deep into Maria’s eyes.

  “I am the man who killed your husband,” he said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  What’s in a Name?