Tess Awakening (32 page)

“We’re screwed,” Carmen said. “Now is the
time to think like a fighter pilot, she added. “If we want to make
it to the beach, we need to take chances.”

Nicola looked at her quizzically. “What
chances?”

Carmen explained. “The Audi that’s stuck over
there is a large, heavy car. Our 500 is very light. Now, if we
drive into the water as fast as we can, we might be able to float
and avoid wetting the electrical system. Plus, this is a front
wheel drive car so we would be pulling instead of pushing. It might
work.”

Nicola looked dubious. “And what happens if
it doesn’t work and we are stuck in a large pond and you are
stranded with a hurt hand?

“I will live, Carmen said. Let’s try it.”

“All right,” Nicola said without conviction.
Here we go.”

He revved the tiny car and plunged into the
enormous puddle, fully expecting to stall.

“Keep the revs high,” Carmen instructed.
“Steady as she goes.”

The little car floated like a boat. Nicola
kept his foot on the accelerator, hardly believing what was
happening. The surreal scene of a tiny vehicle noisily laboring
across the pond reminded Carmen of a Fiat commercial she had seen
on TV some time ago. ‘Maybe it was not an exaggeration, she
thought; these things actually float.’

Amazingly enough, they made it to the hard
pavement. The car engine was still in running order. Nicola did not
dare stop and drove another 100 yards until he reached a yellow
tape drawn across the street by the police to warn motorists of the
flooded area in the opposite direction. Nicola got out of the car,
untied one end of the tape, and drove the car toward the main
avenue of the beach area. They were underway for five minutes when
Carmen observed, “We didn’t fasten back the yellow tape. Someone
might drive into the puddle.”

“Noble sentiment,” Nicola responded, “If they
drive that fast in this mess, they deserve to get wet.” Carmen
smiled.

The beach boulevard was wet, but it appeared
to have fared well compared to the rest of the town. It was still
raining, but no sign of flooding.

“I will park the car in the underground
garage across from our apartment,” Nicola said. He drove to the
entrance down the underground ramp and had to slam on the brakes.
The large parking garage was now an underground lake. Nicola had
had enough. He cursed: Mannaggia! He shifted the car into reverse
and backed out to the street. He found a parking spot and turned
the car off. He held his hands on the steering wheel and put his
head on the center horn. “Nobody is going to believe this.”

Carmen smiled. “Sir, I think you should be
proud of having driven a car through a lake. I can’t think of
anyone else that can claim to have done that.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Madam. Now let’s
get back to the apartment. I have had enough of this hassle.” They
left the car, and Nicola took Carmen’s good hand to cross the
deserted street. Carmen decided that the tiny 500 deserved a
salute; it didn’t even leak inside. She raised her hand to her
forehead and made a proper military salute, with her good hand, of
course.

As Nicola turned the key to the apartment
building, Carmen made a vow. “I will never disrespect a Fiat 500
from now on.”

Nicola smiled. Carmen was not only sexy, but
also smart, creative, brave and tough. What a combination! He was
definitely in love.

***

Carmen had a rough night due to the pain in
her hand, but she was not about to lie around like a wimp. She
looked outside. The rain had stopped and Corso Valparaiso looked
like nothing had happened. She persuaded Nicola to take her
downstairs and see how the town had fared.

They tried every one of the underpasses under
the railroad, but they were still flooded. They walked to the
furthest one that was also underwater, but it had a pedestrian
walkway alongside it that was elevated and passable. They finally
made into town, and they found out that walking was not going to be
easy. All of the streets were covered by inches of mud that had
washed down from the hills above. Carmen looked at Nicola shocked.
“Wow, this is going to take months to clean up.”

Nicola smiled. “You don’t know the
Italians.”

Slipping through the mud, they made it to the
main square across City Hall. The citizens were out in droves, each
one of them — adults, young and old, manning shovels, brooms, and
hoses, picking up mud and loading it on small trucks. A few larger
municipal trucks loaded the sticky stuff and hauled it away.
Basements were flooded, and most of them already had pumps working,
spewing out jets of dirty water. In some buildings, they had to
break the beautiful marble floors under the porticos to gain access
to the area below so they could install pumps. The entire first
floor of the main hotel downtown had flooded. Workers were bringing
soaked stuffed chairs outside on the sidewalk and placed fans in
front of them to help the furniture dry out.

Throughout, Carmen did not hear a single
complaint from the locals. She just saw people working as team,
helping each other to clean up, all done with good humor and
dedication so that they could restore their beautiful town. She
thought that if a disaster of this magnitude had occurred in Los
Angeles, few of its people would have come together as a cohesive
group to help the town recover. They would probably just have
waited for city workers to clean up the mess.

Nicola and Carmen chipped in to help clean up
the streets. Working alongside perfect strangers, their
contribution was gratefully accepted. Carmen could not do much due
to her injured hand, so she handled hoses to wash out
pavements.

Within a week, it was hard to tell that a
disaster had befallen the town. Everything was almost dry, the
streets cleaned, and the flooded stores were holding sales of
damaged merchandise. Carpenters were busy rebuilding store desks
and displays. The people were back to the cafes and stores choosing
focaccia, bread, cold cuts and cheese. Even the outdoor market
stalls had returned. Life was almost back to normal.

Carmen a Nicola sat at a street side table of
a café. She was still amazed about the way the locals handled a
disaster. Nicola was matter-of-fact. “The Italians have always
relied on their families and neighbors to survive the various
occupations throughout history. Authorities habitually abused them
and robbed them through draconian taxes. People learned early on
that they could not rely on the oppressors or the government to
help them. Their strength is their deeply felt ancient sense of
community.”

Carmen now realized that the world was not
always an ugly place. For the first time, she felt a desire to put
down roots, join a community and enjoy a gracious environment. She
also decided that she needed Nicola in her life. They were a
team.

Back to the apartment, Tess called. Carmen
did not get a chance to say a word. Tess told her what had happened
to her and asked her to come to New York. They needed to plan the
war on Amir.

Carmen put the phone down. She ran her hands
on both cheeks, then to her mouth; “Sweet Jesus!”

She looked at Nicola, shaken by what she had
just found out. “Amir tried to kill Jake and Tess. They crashed the
car and Tess lost the baby. Also, it appears that Amir kidnapped
her toddler. I am afraid that Tess has turned into a Valkyrie. The
guy is going to be in a world of hurt.”

“What can we do to help?”

“We are still officially working in Iraq. We
need take a leave of absence and to go to New York to coordinate
with Tess and Jake; then we will set the wheels in motion. We need
to get to Amir and figure out where he is keeping little Morgan.
This is going to be a hell of a battle. Once Tess gets going, no
power on earth can stop her.”

Nicola quipped jokingly, “I can’t understand
why the two of you are friends. You have absolutely nothing in
common.”

Carmen gave him a dirty look. Nicola picked
up the phone. “I am booking two tickets to New York.”

Chapter 52

Amir had finally divorced his wife and
married Muna, an Iraqi widow from a good family, to pose as his new
wife. This was purely a business arrangement, enabling them to have
legitimate legal status when traveling overseas. He had in his
person passports issued by the State of Iraq, showing that his name
was Amir Al-Jamil, the identity of a deceased Iraqi officer, Muna’s
late husband. He also had a forged a birth certificate for his son,
Tahir, previously known as Morgan Vickers. The documents cost him a
fortune because he had to persuade the right officials in Iraq to
provide them. It was just money.

They landed in Montreal. A car met them at
their private plane and took them to a large house outside of the
city.

Amir got out of the car and rushed upstairs
to the nursery. Little Morgan was playing patty cake with the
nanny. He waved the women out of the room and kneeled in front of
the child. Morgan was now a year old and looked at Amir with his
large, black eyes — the family signature. Amir took the child in
his arms. ‘He is strong and alert; a true son of mine.’ He puffed
his chest in pride. ‘You are blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh,
borne to me by a worthy Amazon.’

He spent half an hour playing with the child,
inspecting every inch of him, nuzzling him, inhaling the wonderful
smell of a healthy child. ‘If only my beloved Tess were here. My
happiness would be complete.’

After lunch, Amir assembled his team,
discussing what was going to happen. If they asked, the authorities
would be told that Amir, Muna and their son Tahir were in Montreal
to buy a vacation house to be used during the skiing season.
Shortly afterward, they will depart for Istanbul with the child,
thus successfully leaving the American continent. Once in Turkey,
it would be impossible for Tess to get the child back.

Amir was smart enough to understand that the
attempted killing of Tess and Jake and the kidnapping of little
Morgan would unleash the hounds of hell. He knew that he would have
to square off against her father, an influential retired general
and defense industry executive. Also, Tess was likely to pursue him
with relentless fervor, one of her best qualities. He did not leave
anything to chance. The boy would be brought to a house not his own
in Istanbul and he would have a different name. There was virtually
no chance of being discovered.

The family boarded his Falcon Jet a couple of
days later, refueled in Dublin and finally landed in Istanbul. They
were taken to a villa just outside the city. A squad of nannies and
nurses was mobilized to take care of the newly named Tahir along
with Amir’s daughter Aara.

Amir was still not satisfied. He fantasized
bringing Tess to his new house. Once she found herself with little
Morgan AKA Tahir, and Aara, he thought that she would soften and
agree to stay with him. He spent the rest of the evening in his
study contemplating possible strategies that might make his dream
happen.

He finally went to bed, still restless. Muna
entered his bedroom, dressed in a beautiful nightgown. She stood in
front of him until he deigned to acknowledge her existence.

“Amir, I am you wife, but you have not
touched me even once since we were married.”

“You know very well that ours was purely a
business arrangement. I will give you a divorce as soon as things
are settled.”

Muna insisted. “Amir, right now you are my
husband, and I want you to make love to me.”

Amir sat on the bed and beckoned her to come
closer. “Very well, take your gown off.” Muna did as he requested,
peeling the garment off and dropping it on the floor. She was
stunning: dark eyes, long brown hair, a long neck, beautiful
breasts and an hourglass figure. Amir became mildly interested.

He picked her up with his strong arms and
laid her down on the bed. He took his pajamas off and joined her.
He looked at her intensely and started to touch her on the throat,
her belly, and her legs. He turned her over, inspecting her skin,
running his fingers along her spine. Then he raised her buttocks
and started to nibble on them. Muna had not expected that but did
not object. Amir bit harder, causing her pain, but also arousing
her. Amir was now hard and penetrated her from behind. She gasped,
feeling his hard shaft deep inside her. Amir held her hips and
moved on his back, still in her. She was now facing his feet.

“They say that this position is good for a
woman because she can control movement and move the way she wishes
to please herself. Do it.”

Muna felt that the position was hardly
romantic. Nevertheless she started to move, feeling him deep within
her. Amir stood still, allowing her to move the way she wanted, her
back against his chest, her center locking on his penis, moving in
a circular motion then accelerating up and down until she had an
orgasm.

She fell off him and turned on her back,
beckoning his embrace. Amir parted her legs and sunk into her
again, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from Muna. He partially
withdrew then plunged into her repeatedly. He then moved faster,
deep within her, over and over again, sinking into her depths until
she moaned and had another strong orgasm.

Amir stayed inside her for a few minutes and
then withdrew, spilling his semen on her belly.

“Why didn’t you come inside me, Amir? Am I
not your wife?”

“No, Muna. You are not my wife. We still have
a business arrangement. You needed sex tonight, and I gave it to
you. My seed belongs to the woman that will be my real wife.” He
wiped her off with a towel. “Now leave, I need to sleep.”

Muna got off the bed, thoroughly humiliated.
She picked up her gown and walked to the door. “You are a bastard,
Amir.”

“I know. Good night.” He had a restless
night, dreaming of Tess in his arms.