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974. alistairConnor - 3/16/2009 4:15:43 AM Gyrating from the hips, she started inching slowly forward, sliding up the shaft towards the head. At a snail's pace. She became aware of the driver's eyes in the mirror, watching her glistening breasts, dripping their milk onto Gustav's belly as they swayed rhythmically.
He became impatient with her game, and pushing himself up on his elbows, he slid his hands under her thighs and lifted. He managed to free his legs, and sitting up, pressed her thighs back with his torso. She was now flat on her back with her legs around his neck, and she could see the girders of the bridge behind his head as they left Manhattan.
Grabbing his tool, he flicked the head back and forth against her clitoris for a few seconds. She was resolutely silent. He positioned the head between the lips, and paused, leaning on her thighs with all his weight. She exhaled : "ffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuu" and bit her lip, hard, to stop anything else slipping out.
He started moving rhythmically: very quick, shallow thrusts, penetrating barely an inch or two. She was making a keening noise. As the car turned off the bridge into Brooklyn, the driver half-turned to look her in the face, with an expression that was both blank and intense : lust? envy? hatred? contempt? she wondered; and came. 975. webfeet - 3/20/2009 9:27:08 PM and look what happens when I go away for a few days... 976. webfeet - 3/20/2009 9:45:33 PM One question: why Brooklyn? Why did you single out this poor burrough for this loony sex scene? 977. alistairConnor - 3/21/2009 3:52:34 PM Well thank you for breaking the embarrassed silence...
On the radio yesterday (France Culture évidemment, I bet your beau-père listens to it all day long) I heard an erudite discussion about Jean-Jacques Rousseau (surely the pioneer, or an ancestor at least, of autofiction). Was he persecuted? paranoid? did he invite it? Enjoy it? He gave public readings in Paris of his Confessions, in 1770 or thereabouts. He wanted discussion, debate, contradiction. Feedback. And all he got was embarrassed silence. In fact, one of his intimates denounced him to the police, who forbade any more public readings; apparently she feared that she would feature in future episodes...
All I can say is, it's your own fault. You and Jen. You set up your sex scenes, then you walk away from them. I need to move the story along, so against my better judgement, I had a try...
I'll tell you what. By the powers vested in me as host of the thread, I will obliterate the loony sex. On condition that you first replace it with your own, sensible version. Or anything else that deals with the characters and doesn't denature the storyline. Deal?
Same offer for Dr Davidson... 978. alistairConnor - 3/21/2009 4:11:17 PM As for Brooklyn, well, I've been there, and I thought perhaps I could do something with the bridge, symbolism or imagery. But it turned out a bit rushed. I should work more on description and atmosphere. 979. alistairConnor - 3/22/2009 6:08:57 PM Memo to Nu : If you have any idea what might happen at CERN, please take over that chapter... you've got the quantum physics angle. (I've set up the scene, now I'm walking away... yes I'm a tease too.) 980. alistairConnor - 4/9/2009 6:52:42 PM Halima had agreed with Albu that both Iancu and Dumitra should come to Geneva, where they could both be kept under surveillance. In the circumstances, that meant that she had to escort them there.
"I'm worried about Dumitra being in a big city at this stage. It's probably easier to buy meth than cigarettes in Geneva these days."
"Indeed", Albu replied. "But the physical danger to you, and to the two vampires, can be better managed here. Who knows when another assassin will turn up on your doorstep?" 981. alistairConnor - 4/9/2009 7:27:48 PM Albu pressed her, again, to accept the job of managing the Geneva team. "My administrative and organisational tasks are taking away too much time from research. And now we have security concerns, which I have no experience with. We need you here."
"I'm still thinking it over", she assured him.
They took Iancu's rental car: it was pre-paid for another four days, he assured them. The trip was uneventful. Here I am, Halima thought, chaperoning an assassin and a drug addict, both of them vampires. Oh well, I've seen worse. My ex and his family, for example.
She delivered her charges into the tender cares of Dr Ayotunde and his security staff, who had dealt with far tougher cases than these young lovers. Then she joined Alistair in his charming studio apartment, with a view of the lake. They ate the dinner Alistair had prepared, with a bottle of wine (a Seyssel, from a little vineyard halfway between Lyon and Geneva). They finished the wine in the bath, then they made love.
Afterwards, Halima started grilling Alistair about his relationship with Courtney.
"Relationship? We have no relationship. I'm her slave, that's all."
"That's what I'm concerned about", she said, smiling. "I think I'll accept the job here, so that I can keep an eye on you two. She's seventeen, she's pretty, she's adventurous : sooner or later she's likely to try a little sexual experiment."
"Oh come on, you flatter me. Why would she be interested in an old schnok like me? And what makes you think I'd play along, eh? Honest to god, I have no sexual interest in seventeen year olds."
"But you're her slave, right? She can make you do anything she wants."
"No, she can't make me do anything I can't make myself do! And in the words of the immortal poet, Georges Brassens : La bandaison, ma foi, ne se commande pas!"
"You mean that if she made you lie down naked on the bed, and she did ... this to you, nothing would happen?"
"Have you looked at her? She's not equipped to do what you just did."
"Or ... this?"
"Oh, cut it out. On second thoughts... Carry on. But she wouldn't get ...that reaction from me."
Halima sat up in the bed. "Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much", she said, starting to poke him in the face with a pillow. "Don't you want me to take the job?"
"On the contrary, I'd be delighted if you took the job. But not out of jealousy." She was batting him around the ears with the pillow now. "You know there's only one woman in the world you Ow! have to fear on that score... Ow!" She was bashing him over the head now. "And that's Penelope Ow! Cru-u-u-uz! And the odds of that are pretty damn long."
They collapsed in a giggling heap. 982. alistairConnor - 4/9/2009 8:03:15 PM Hank and Dumitra were installed in a medicalized living space in the WHO building. Part hostel, part hospital, he thought, taking the measure of the security arrangements, the video surveillance, the orderlies who were used to dealing with the sort of borderline psychiatric cases that Ayotunde's department attracted.
Through the night, they talked and made love, talked some more and so on. Since Hank had interrupted her Coffed state the previous night, Dumitra soon showed signs of needing her coffin again, as Hank had hoped. He was not yet ready to reveal his double agent status to her; he hoped things would be clearer to him after the Davos mission.
Once Dumitra was Coffed, Hank wrote her a note, and made his way out of the building. They were under strict instructions not to go anywhere, and it had been made clear to them that if they tried to leave, they would be restrained; but it was easier than he had expected, he could probably have walked out the front door with just a little bit of stealth. But he chose to climb down from the third-floor balcony, bare handed. Nothing difficult for him, except for the weight of his backpack. To avoid the possibility of being filmed, he told himself. But for the hell of it, too.
He picked up his car and drove out of town, north around the lake, then taking the motorway east. He had a little more than an hour before dawn. Turning north at Lausanne, he got off the motorway near the lake of Neuchatel, and drove until he found some secluded park space along the lake front.
He got out of the car and assembled his coffin on the shingly beach; then stood in the cold January dawn, waiting for the sun to rise. 983. alistairConnor - 4/21/2009 10:56:13 PM Hank was gazing out over the lake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Iancu. Good, your coffin is ready. I must use it at once, the sun is rising."
Mark Davidson climbed into the coffin. The light was already fading from his eyes, as the daylight increased. Only his exceptional mastery of vampire lore, and of his own mind and body, enabled him to function even for a minute or two after dawn. Any other ordinary vampire (Changers and Perps excepted, of course) would be in convulsions by now : the refuge of a coffin is vital to their metabolism, as soon as the sun breaks the horizon.
But Davidson was tough: lying in the coffin, he had to remain in control. "Remember, boy : we must be in Davos by 6 pm to meet Petru."
"Yes, Master Mirka. It's only three hours' drive from here", Hank replied.
"I always knew I could rely on you, Iancu", said Davidson in a whisper, with a faintly ironic smile. And then he was out.
It had been quite a shock when Peter Brown had informed Hank that Davidson would be joining him by teleportation. The implication was clear : Davidson had, at some time, unknown to Hank, infected him and brewed the Imperative serum. (Perhaps he did that systematically to all his pupils; or perhaps only to those he didn't trust?) He could therefore teleport at dawn to wherever Hank was; moreover, he could compel obedience. Hank was relieved, in retrospect, that he hadn't chosen the route of open rebellion.
Davidson's power over Hank did, however, suffer one rather obvious drawback: as a common vampire, he needed to spend his daylight hours in a coffin. As it was impossible to teleport with, or in, a coffin (it had been tried, with disastrous results), this made him entirely dependent on being well received at his arrival.
Theoretically, then, the tables were now turned, and Hank had the upper hand. Insofar as they were enemies; which he still wasn't sure of.
But what could he do with the advantage? It was all or nothing : he either had to obey Davidson, or kill him. And this was no seventeen year old girl : if he were to drive a stake through his heart, he would undoubtedly wound him mortally, but he was certain that Davidson would manage to kill his attacker before expiring himself.
Hank pondered : what if he just filled up the coffin with rocks, and sank it thirty feet deep in the lake? He decided it wouldn't make any difference to Davidson until sunset (he was, to all intents and purposes, already dead; he couldn't be drowned). Waking up at the bottom of the lake probably wouldn't faze him either; he would simply swim to the surface and start tracking Hank down.
He decided that there was really no other option, he had to see the mission through. Unless he happened to come across a building site with lots of fresh concrete. 984. NuPlanetOne - 4/24/2009 6:18:41 PM alistair,
I have officially noted your memo and hopefully I can put something together soon. You have a ton of material to sift through, but I am enjoying your prolific exploits.
I just watched 'Twilight' the other night and must admit I enjoyed it. It was a decent movie making effort. I wasn't crazy about their reason for allowing the Vamps to go about during the day, but it was plausible. I do like our ideas much better. But the flick had a good hook, and I can see why it did well.
Have you discussed movie rights yet?.....never know! 985. alistairConnor - 4/25/2009 2:49:46 PM As they walked down the long, slightly curved corridor at the CERN particle accelerator, Alistair was humming the song Supermassive Black Hole. Courtney rolled her eyes, and explained to Halima : "It's the Muse song from Twilight, the vampire movie. He does it to wind me up."
Alistair hummed louder, and started to croon: "You caught me under false pretenses, how long before you let me go? Yooooouuuuuuu, you set my soul alight."
"Oh, cut it out!" Courtney snapped.
Alistair made a gulping sound, and stopped dead, one foot in the air.
Courtney gasped : "I didn't do that! ... did I?"
Alistair smiled and started walking again. "Your wish is my command... mistress."
Halima glared at him. Alistair grinned at her, uncertainly, then with mock fear. She muttered : "Just wait till we get home..."
"Why wait?" he murmured back. "We could find an empty storeroom..."
"No", she said, louder. "The mad scientist is waiting for us."
"Well of course, Kronen's experiment, whatever it is. Actually, it was the black holes connection that brought that song to mind. It wasn't the vampire thing."
"Ah yes", said Dr Cascu. "Will this large hadron collider we're walking along generate black holes when they start it up? Will they grow and destroy the earth? Or will technical issues or legal injunctions save the world?"
"I thought it was supposed to be running since last September?" said Alistair. "That was the plan", said Cascu, "but technical issues arose -- helium leaks and things like that -- and it won't be in working order until this autumn at the earliest."
"Nine months till the end of the world eh?" said Alistair. "We should give up our jobs, run up debts, enjoy ourselves. It's a shame the banks aren't lending." 986. alistairconnor - 4/27/2009 10:37:32 PM Hank drove slowly through the small town until he spotted a ski shop. He turned down a side street and parked as unobtrusively as possible. He bought the cheapest pair of skis he could find, a bag for them, and a few accessories; then hurried back to the car and camoflaged the coffin with them. Then breathed a sigh of relief.
There is nothing quite as coffin-like as a coffin. It really doesn't look like anything else; and he had no plausible explanation for driving a stiff around Switzerland with him.
Getting the damn thing into the car had been hard enough. Though he was short, Davidson was solidly built, and heavy as hell. He had manoeuvered the car as close as possible, and heaved the coffin in through the back hatch, having folded down the back seat. He had to jam the front passenger seat forward and incline the back of it toward the windscreen before he could force the hatch shut.
Ford frickin' Fiesta. God damn poky European cars. 987. alistairconnor - 4/27/2009 11:27:28 PM No way was he going to walk blind into that meeting with Davidson and Brown. Hank had set up a rendezvous with the Organization's men on the spot : Milòs and Laslò. They were, respectively, cook at the Davos Conference Centre, and room service waiter at the resort's most prestigious hotel. The Organisation had sent them to get jobs there during the winter season, in order to get inside knowledge of the workings of the conference. Now they were vital to the implementation of the Master Plan.
Hank had arranged to meet them at 3pm, in a café on the outskirts of Davos, outside the security perimeter. He knew them both slightly, from their time as interns at the Organisation, a couple of years previously.
The Organisation offered a generous internship program for science and engineering students from all over the world. By a curious coincidence, most of the applicants, and all of the successful ones, happened to be vampires.
Although younger than both by a couple of years, Hank had been their instructor in Proactive Self-Defense.
Laslò had cut quite a dash. Tall, blonde and angelically beautiful, he had usurped Hank's position as the acknowledged heart-throb of the young Californian vampirettes, and had lost no time in working his way through the field, to Hank's irritation. After a couple of months, perhaps sensing a danger, or perhaps because he had exhausted its possibilities, Laslò abandoned the limited vampire social scene, and branched out into San Francisco night life, where Milòs had already found happiness... but not among the women. 988. alistairconnor - 4/27/2009 11:27:48 PM "Iancu! Man, I'm glad to see you. Coffee? Something to eat?" Laslò ordered for him.
Discreetly, they recounted what they knew of the operation. Laslò was to collect samples of organic matter from the rooms of world leaders : hair, nail clippings, anything he could get. And Milòs was supposed to add something to the food, he didn't know what.
Clearly, neither of them knew what it was all about; probably they knew nothing about teleportation or Imperative serum. It took Hank about thirty seconds to work it out.
World domination eh? He smiled grimly, and did not inform them of his conclusions.
Instead, he asked them how they were planning to proceed : the conference was to start that evening, and the town was already buzzing with the world's most powerful businessmen and politicians.
Milòs had studied the menus he was to prepare over the next few days, and had worked out strategies for incorporating the mystery ingredient into sauces and soups. The main thing was not getting caught.
"It's easier for Laslò", he said, smiling. "He has an army of helpers."
"Well, hardly an army", said Laslò modestly.
"He's bedded five chambermaids. They would do anything for him!" said Milòs, clearly proud of his friend.
"Six, actually", said Laslò.
"Oh, who's the latest? The Swedish girl with the big..."
"I haven't had my way with her yet, though I did get a feel of those ... they're the real thing, in case you were wondering. No, it's the Turkish lovely on the fifth floor."
"Ooh, I thought she was saving herself for marriage?"
"Well, she is... but we've found a compromise arrangement."
Milòs laughed knowingly. 989. alistairConnor - 5/11/2009 12:44:03 AM When Alistair and his companions arrived in the conference room, there was a palpable tension in the air. He ascribed it to the presence of Sorin and Dumitra, visibly ill at ease in each other's presence. Albu introduced them to a couple of CERN physicists, and to Errin Davidson, who had arrived that morning from London.
Alistair congratulated Kronen on his TV appearance : "That was quite a performance, doctor! You may have found a new career : you have a real talent for improv comedy! Though you had some good help: that interviewer is really..." He caught Halima's glare and said no more, but wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. Kronen beamed : "Yes, Sue is quite something, she..." His voice trailed off as he saw Errin looking at him, and he reddened.
"It's time to begin the biology presentation!" he said briskly.
"Biology? But it's ten o'clock on Thursday," said Courtney playfully. "I thought we had physics?"
"Before we get to the practical physics", Dr Albu explained, "Gustav wishes to brief us on the biological underpinnings of the phenomena we are to experiment together."
"Today's subject is mitochondria", Kronen announced. "Can anyone explain what mitochondria are?"
"They're um, little bitty critters in our cells?" suggested Alistair. "Plants have chloroplasts, us animals have mitochondria, because we don't do photosynthesis, we do, um, the Krebs cycle and stuff like that. They are little powerhouses for the cells. Is that right?"
"Near enough", said Kronen encouragingly. "Who can explain where mitochondria come from, originally?"
"Well, when our ancestors were single-cell organisms floating in the primeval ocean, a couple of billion years ago", suggested Sorin, "it is generally thought that mitochondria were independent organisms, that got engulfed by our ancestors and lived in symbiosis inside them."
"Very good!" Kronen approved. "Then, the theory goes, they gradually lost their independence, and most of their genetic material migrated, by successive mutations, to the nucleus of the cell. They still have a fragment of DNA of their own, but not enough to reproduce independently."
"That's really weird!" exclaimed Courtney. "It's like we're two different species at once!"
"Actually", Kronen said, "your own case, and that of Dumitra, is somewhat different. The principal biological difference between vampires and the rest of us -- or at least, the only difference that we have been able to isolate thus far -- lies in the mitochondria. Yours are larger, and apparently far more complex, with a great deal of their own genetic material. We have not yet been able to sequence their DNA, we hope to begin that project soon, since it seems we may be able to obtain sufficient funding and resources." Dr Ayotunde smiled benignly. 990. alistairConnor - 5/11/2009 12:46:24 AM "What we do know is that vampire mitochondria have extraordinary capabilities. Firstly, they seem to be responsible for inducing the pseudo-death or "coffed" state, and for preserving the body's cells from any harm or deterioration during that phase. It also seems that they play the predominant role in the extraordinary capacity of a vampire's body to heal itself of any injury, no matter how severe, with extraordinary speed."
"Oh here we go", murmured Alistair. "It's science fiction time again."
"Do I sense scepticism?" suggested Kronen.
Dumitra spoke up : "I suggest a little demonstration, Doctor." She came to the front and faced the others, rummaging in her handbag. She took out a wicked-looking clasp knife and unfolded it. Before anyone had time to react, she slashed both her wrists, expertly, deeply, clinically.
She dropped the knife, and, with a triumphant smile, held up her arms in a parody of crucifixion. Bright red arterial blood spurted from her wrists, once, twice, then weakened to a trickle, a drip, stopped completely. The deep wounds became shallower, pink scar tissue formed in welts, then subsided, paled. Within two minutes there was no trace of any cut.
In the stunned silence, Alistair started to clap slowly. "That's quite a stunt! Tell us, how do you do it? What's the trick?"
"There's no trick, Alistair", Courtney said gravely. She was visibly shaken, but not surprised, by the demonstration. "I've always had to be very careful to conceal that from people. I have to try to avoid all risks, because if I ever got a cut or graze, at school, or playing with friends, and somebody saw it heal..." 991. alistairConnor - 7/19/2009 8:58:41 PM That same afternoon in Davos, Peter Brown also had a rendezvous with Milos and Laslo. He interrogated Laslo about his sample collection methods, and smiled with approval when he explained about his helpers. He enumerated a number of high-value targets, which Laslo undertook to give the highest priority to.
"And our number one target is Vladimir Putin", said Brown.
"No way!" said Laslo. "I've talked to the permanent staff about him. Apparently, every year, he brings his own staff, chambermaids and everything. Nobody gets near him. He doesn't even use the hotel's toilets : he craps into a sort of potty thing, and they ship it all back to Russia."
"Wow, that's weirder than Howard Hughes!" said Milos.
"No, it's sort of rational paranoia", Laslo continued. "It seems the CIA pulled a trick on Brezhnev in the seventies : they cut into the waste pipe from his room, collected a sample of his shit, and diagnosed the liver disease that eventually killed him. Putin doesn't want to be diagnosed, it seems."
"What are all these samples for, anyway?" asked Milos anxiously.
Brown smiled broadly. "It's a research project. We wish to discover whether, as we suspect, a large proportion of world leaders have vampire ancestry. We need to analyze biological samples to do that."
"Then why do you want me to add stuff to their food?" Milos pursued.
After an almost imperceptible hesitation, Brown replied : "It's a biological agent that will react in a certain harmless way on the metabolism of a person with vampire ancestry, and leave traces in samples taken afterwards. It will greatly enhance our capacities of detection and analysis."
"That's great!" said Laslo enthusiastically. "I'm proud to contribute to the project!". Milos kept his own counsel, but accepted the bags of blood Brown handed over to him. 992. alistairConnor - 7/19/2009 9:01:27 PM The town was already buzzing with business magnates, power brokers and deal-makers. World leaders were mostly expected the following afternoon, in time for the inaugural dinner.
Shortly after nightfall, Hank and Mark Davidson met with Peter Brown in a different café on the outskirts of Davos. Brown was terse and businesslike:
"As our direct-action operatives, your mission is to obtain biological samples from high-value targets which we can't access by other means. But your first duty is to avoid detection. Even at the expense of failure in your assigned missions. And in the event of your being captured or killed, it is imperative that there be no connection to myself or to the Organisation. Any compromise of my status as official invitee would be disastrous."
Hank realised that Davidson was seething with anger. Understandably so : Brown was apparently treating the two of them as equals, and as his inferiors; whereas Davidson was a fellow Director, and chief of the Security section of the Organisation. In Davidson's mind, and perhaps in that of Brown, his status as a mere Coffer put him perpetually in a position of inferiority, and resentfully on the defensive.
"Master Petru, there is no need to lecture me about security imperatives. Indeed, it would be well to defer to me on the subject. Give me the list of targets, and let me deal with the matter."
"Of course, Master Mirka." said Brown, with a forced smile. "I treat with you as an equal. But you must understand that, in this mission, there can be only one operational commander."
"Indeed", Davidson concurred. "However, for security reasons, I think it would be unwise for us to meet again at Davos. There are police, soldiers, cameras everywhere. Iancu and I will execute our missions without any further reference to yourself. I believe this will be the most effective strategy."
"Fine", said Brown, realising he had been out-manoeuvered. "Vladimir Putin is our highest value target. Our local operatives do not have access to him." He outlined what was known of Putin's domestic arrangements. "Over to you, Master Mirka, to devise the plan to get what we want from him." On the one hand, Brown realised, if the Putin mission succeeded, he would have difficulty claiming much credit for it. On the other hand, if it went sour, then he would carry no blame.
993. alistairConnor - 7/19/2009 11:37:18 PM Brown decided to undermine Davidson by pampering Hank. He's the up-and-coming lad, everyone says it; he would like to see him take over security in a few years, if he could find a way to sideline Davidson.
"Iancu, my boy. Tell me about your previous mission. You understand, we had to cancel it: we couldn't afford to take the risk of a high-profile murder case being linked to vampires, given the overriding importance of the current mission. And eliminating a renegade vampire will be of no importance, if this mission succeeds. Did you get close to your target before we called you off?"
Hank realised that this was his moment of truth : if he was playing straight with the Organisation, he had to spill the beans now, and explain that he had infiltrated an enemy organisation which was conducting advanced research on the Imperative effect. If he didn't tell all now, it would be very difficult to explain himself later. He had been thinking about this situation all day; and hadn't reached a decision.
On instinct, he went with the minimal version. "I located the target in a country house near Lyon. But when I entered the house to complete the mission, it turned out that the girl was no longer there. The following day, I made discreet enquiries, which confirmed that a seventeen year old girl from New Zealand had been there..."
Brown interrupted him : "From New Zealand? Seventeen?" He seemed intrigued.
"Yes, but she had left... to visit Switzerland", said Hank, guessing that the Organisation's detection equipment would have picked up the movement anyway.
"Yes, it seems she is in the Geneva area." said Davidson. "Perhaps you can go find her after this mission and romance her eh? Ha, ha, ha. Private joke", he explained to Brown.
Davidson spent the rest of the night prowling the streets of Davos, taking the measure of the security systems. Hank took the opportunity to get some down time : they only had the one coffin between the two of them, so he went Coffed in the garage the Organisation had rented on the edge of town.
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