Princes Of MannsboroughChapter 21 free porn video

Thule woke at six thirty, half an hour before his alarm would have gone off. As he tried to detach himself gracefully from Dawn, whose head was laid across his chest, she looked up sleepily, "Is it morning?"

"More or less," Thule said. "I need to get some things done before I head into the city."

Dawn stretched, "Want me to make breakfast?"

"It's early yet," said Thule. "Go back to sleep."

Dawn got up on hands and knees, shaking sleep out of her head, "No. It's all right. I need to get moving too. If Marigold can't get a car today, could you drop me off in town, please? I managed to get most of my doctor's appointments made."

"Sure," said Thule, standing up, "what were you thinking of making?"

Dawn sat up, "We saw some pancake mix in the cabinet while we were making dinner last night."

"Good enough," said Thule, "I'm going to jump in the shower. The one in your bedroom should be working fine. I think I've kept the bathroom pretty clean. But, if not, the one off of my father's room should be fine."

Dawn laughed, "Afraid I'm going to follow you into your shower?"

"Yes," admitted Thule, "and I don't have time for that sort of thing this morning."

Dawn pouted. Thule added, "Besides, then I would probably miss out on breakfast. And those pancakes sound really good." At Dawn's look of outrage, he added, "And uncomplicated. Some nice, uncomplicated pancakes sound really good today."

Dawn stuck out her tongue, "Just for that, I'm putting bananas in them and sprinkling them with powdered sugar."

Thule chuckled on his way into the bathroom, "Contentious creature."

"You'd better just hope I don't find any blueberries," called Dawn.

In the shower, Thule took a few minutes just to relax. The hot water washed away aches that he couldn't remember the origin of. But, he really didn't have much time for such indulgences today. He forced himself to focus. As he was drying off, Dawn called, "Hurry up or they'll get cold."

Thule threw on his dress pants and went out. Dawn looked up, "I didn't mean you had to come to breakfast naked."

Thule said, "I have pants on. I don't like to wear my dress shirts to breakfast. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can throw on a t-shirt."

"No," said Dawn, "it's just startling. That's all. I hope you don't expect me to follow that particular dress code."

"Fine," said Thule, "ruin my fantasy of being catered to my beautiful, topless serving girls."

Dawn put his plate down in front of him. Then, she reached up to the top button of her pajama top, holding it with both hands and watching him through sleep-lidded eyes. Thule watched her, knowing that Dawn loved to push his buttons, knowing he would back off. He wondered how far she would push if he didn't. Emphatically, he sat back, watching her, and crossed his arms.

Realizing he wasn't going to stop her, Dawn blushed fiercely. Then, with shaking fingers, she undid the next button. Thule inclined his head to her in recognition. Dawn let her fingers glide down to the next button, but only hovered there for a half second before she dropped her hands.

"Is that a good enough start?" asked Dawn.

Thule chuckled, "Eat your breakfast."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then, Dawn asked quietly, "You would have let me do it, wouldn't you?"

"I hadn't entirely decided," admitted Thule. "I wanted to see how far you would push it if I let you. But, I might have cracked before you did."

Dawn pouted, "You're so mean."

Thule laughed, "And you are a relentless flirt. You love to watch me squirm. I thought I would let you squirm for a change."

After breakfast, Thule went into his bedroom to start copying the most recent files he'd collected onto a new DVD. While the burner was running, he switched over to another machine to print out photo-quality copies of a half-dozen images chosen for their impact. He didn't know how much time he would have to make his case. As they queued up to print, he brought up the June Kane video. If he only had one brief chance to show someone a picture, he knew the one he needed. Fast forwarding as much as he could, he turned the sound all of the way down and tried to find the spot. After overshooting or undershooting it a half dozen times, he reluctantly turned the sound up, rewound a bit, closed his eyes and listened for the dull thud. He'd slowed the playback to one quarter speed. When the thud came, it was deeper and more drawn out than it had actually been. Thule hit a key without opening his eyes to pause the playback. Bracing himself, he opened his eyes and started advancing, then reversing the playback until he was flicking through less than a dozen frames, a half-second of time, back and forth.

So intent was he that he hadn't heard Dawn walk in the room and didn't know she was there until she said, "She's dead, isn't she?"

"I think so," said Thule, "At the very least, her neck is broken." Looking not at Dawn, but at the screen, he said dully, "The human neck doesn't bend like that unless it's broken. And, fourteen frames after this, it bounces off her chest and you can see... well, you can see."

Dawn rested her chin on Thule's shoulder to get a closer look. He'd frozen it a few frames after June's head had connected with the bench. Her chin was pressed into the hollow of her own throat, the back of her neck an extended, discontinuous line against the bench.

Reaching for the mouse, he hit the print button. The photo printer whined back into life.

Dawn squinted, "Why the hell is Randy smiling?"

Thule sighed and cycled back a few seconds to where June was being handed off to Randy. Then, he played it back, frame by frame, as she wavered and began to fall. Finding the frame he wanted, he asked, "What do you see here?"

"Randy trying to catch June," said Dawn.

"Look at his right hand," said Thule.

Dawn looked, "What the hell is he doing?"

Thule said, "If he wanted, he could curl his fingers around her shoulder right here and get a grip on her. Before he was a running back, he'd been a defensive tackle. Getting purchase like that should be second nature. But, he's pulling his fingers back and the give in her skin says that he's pressing the heel of his hand into her, just below the collarbone."

Dawn looked, "I see it, but why is he doing that?"

Thule rose, facing the bed, "Come here and stand up straight, facing me." When Dawn did, he said, "Rock back on your heels." Dawn rocked back and forth a little. As she rocked back, Thule extended an arm as if he were going to catch her then hit her, just below the collarbone. Her knees went backwards, her arms swung to catch her balance, and she toppled over, flat on her back on the bed.

Thule said quietly, "Randy is smiling because he didn't drop June Kane. He pushed her. And, I don't think it's the first time he's done it."

-=-

After Thule had gathered up everything he needed and gotten dressed, he said to Dawn, "I'm sorry I had to demonstrate that on you. I wasn't sure I believed it myself until I saw you fall over."

"It's all right, Thule," said Dawn quietly. "I'm glad I could help."

Thule gave her a one-armed hug, his laptop bag over his other shoulder. Dawn nuzzled into his chest, arms wrapped around him. When she looked up, she said, "I would have done it, you know?"

Thule looked puzzled, "Done what?"

"I would have undone all the buttons," she said. "Thule, I'd do anything you wanted me to."

Thule's body gave a little shiver of anticipation at the words even before his brain had fully processed them. Releasing her and stepping back, he said, "Dawn, you don't owe me that."

Dawn's jaw took a stubborn cast, "Come on, Thule. If anyone owes anyone that, I owe it to you. That could have been me you were watching get murdered in there. You..."

Thule's look made her words trail off. He said, "Even so, as long as you approach it in those terms, nothing is ever going to happen. I won't have you on those terms. I've already done enough things that skirt the edge of my own morality to keep me in therapy for a very long time once this is all done."

Dawn braced herself and said, "Thule, if it's just because you don't want me..."

Thule crossed the space between them before she could say another word. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. Dawn had only time for a brief squeal before he was kissing her, not gently, but intensely, bruising her lips with his own, pushing her back until she was pinned against the wall next to the front door. He caught her wrists, one in each hand, then pinned them together over her head. His now free hand went down to her belly, avoiding her fresh navel piercing, but running under her shirt, grasping her breast through her bra. He held her there for less than a minute while she undulated against him, foot coming up the back of his leg. Then, he pulled away, releasing her wrists, which she drew down warily.

"Desire," he said emphatically, "is not a problem. I meant what I said. If I don't have you, I'll always regret that I didn't do it when I had the chance. But, I'd rather have done it then than to have you do it because you feel like you owe it to me."

Dawn nodded weakly, eyes about as wide as they could go, breathing shallow.

"Go get your stuff," Thule said. "I don't want to leave you here alone today. You can call Marigold on the way to tell me if I'm leaving you there or in town."

Dawn walked warily to her room, not taking her eyes off of Thule. He had to resist the urge to shout, "Boo!" Chuckling, he went outside to put his laptop case in the car.

Not watching where he was going, Thule almost walked headfirst into Jake before he noticed him. Taking a step back, he reached for the pistol before remembering he didn't have it because he had no carry permit for the city. At the same time, Jake cross drew his own pistol, pointing it menacingly at Thule from waist level. He held it like he knew how to use it.

Thule kept his face cautiously neutral, "I thought you weren't muscle."

"I'm not," said Jake, his own face unreadable. "But, I'm also not stupid. You drew on me the last time I was here. I wasn't coming unarmed again."

Thule raised his hands in front of him, "I'm not armed this time."

"Turn around," said Jake. Thule did. With easy proficiency, Jake patted him down, pulling out his shirt tails and not shying away from the areas where Thule would have put a hold-out weapon.

"All right," Jake said, holstering his own gun, "You can turn back around."

"Are you sure you're not muscle?" Thule asked, turning around, "You seem like you would be good at it."

Jake scowled, "I've been offered the job. I don't want it."

"So," asked Thule, "what do you want?"

Jake's scowl deepened, "Fucking boss wanted me to remind you to come see him tonight and give you this." He handed Thule a guest pass to the Mannsborough Gun club, "That's where he'll be at six o'clock tonight. If you're not there at six o'clock, he's going to send me out to find you."

Jake took a cigarette out and lit it, "If you're not going to be there at six o'clock, I want you to tell me now so I have enough time to pack up my wife and kid and as much stuff as we can fit in our car so that, when Ivan tells me to find you, they'll be long gone and I can get my ass out of this town. I told him and I'm telling you, I don't do the rough stuff."

Thule considered the question. He didn't know what would happen today in New York and he sure as hell didn't like the idea of meeting Ivan Vandevoort at a gun club. But, Jake had reached out to him and Thule didn't want to hang the guy out to dry.

Behind Jake, there was a click and Dawn's voice said, wavering, "Drop it, Brute Squad. Don't fucking make me shoot you."

Jake sighed and raised his hands over his head. Thule reached over and pulled the gun out of Jake's holster.

"It's okay, Dawn," Thule said calmly.

"I saw him pull a gun on you," shouted Dawn.

"It was a misunderstanding," said Thule, "I've got his gun now. He's not going to hurt me."

Dawn poked Jake in the back with the gun, "Please tell me you're not going to hurt him, Jake."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," said Jake, keeping his hands on top of his head. "I just didn't want him shooting me."

Dawn backed off a few steps. Thule reached out for the gun she held. She handed it to him, then crumbled into his arms, hugging him and kissing him on the mouth. Jake took his hands down, giving Thule a venomous look over Dawn's shoulder.

Thule pushed her away, gently, "That was very brave, Dawn. Thank you."

Dawn turned to Jake and started pounding on his chest with her fists, "What the hell are you pulling a gun on Thule for?"

Jake raised his hands to protect his face, "Hey. He started it."

Dawn stopped hitting Jake, but glared at him, "You probably deserved it. I told you you shouldn't be working for Ivan Vandevoort."

Jake looked apologetic, "I know, Wildcat. I'm trying to get out of it, but it's not so simple."

Thule turned to Dawn, "Hon, would you go sit in the car for a minute, please? I really need to talk to Jake privately."

Dawn nodded, "Okay, Thule."

After she was in the car, Jake said, "That didn't take long. Does your girlfriend know?"

"You know," said Thule, annoyed, "one of these days I swear I am going to shoot you just to remind you that I'm holding a gun."

Jake took a drag from his cigarette, "Really? I didn't take you for the type."

Thule sighed, popping the clip out of Jake's gun, unloading it, sliding the bullets out, and reseating the clip. He did it swiftly, without looking down at the gun or letting go of his own. Then, he put Jake's gun back in its holster and dropped the bullets in the older man's hand.

"To answer your question," said Thule, "my girlfriend does know. It was her idea. And, it's none of your damned business. As for the other matter, I'll see Ivan Vandevoort at six p.m. If I can't be there, I'll call him. If I can't call him, I suspect he'll know why."

Jake nodded, "Thanks. That's what I wanted to know." He half turned towards his car.

"Do you have a light?" Thule asked as he drew out a cigarette for himself. Jake fumbled for his lighter. While he did, Thule took a moment to think. He'd already trusted too damned many people on this, telling them too much. He felt like he could trust Jake not to betray him, but he'd felt that about a lot of people and, eventually, he was going to be wrong.

He asked, "How old is your kid?"

Jake smiled, "He just turned five."

Thule asked, "He in school yet?"

"Nah," said Jake, "The wife wants to try her hand at homeschooling anyway."

Thule took a deep drag as Jake lit his cigarette. Then, he said, "You might want to suggest they take a vacation for a week or two. If you can, you might want to go with them. If your hands are dirty, you might want to wash them, today if you can."

Both men stood there smoking. When Jake had finished his cigarette, he ground it out carefully before speaking.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Then, "is there anything I can do to help?"

Thule flicked his cigarette away, "Not today. Get your family out of here. Get your hands clean. Give me your cell number. If I need you, and I might, I'll call you."

Jake nodded. Reaching into his wallet, he drew out a card. By way of explanation, he said, "I hate what he did to Svetlana. I hate that he's trying to weasel out of his prenup now. After I talked to you last time, I opened my eyes to a lot of things I really didn't want to see."

Thule nodded, "I'll call you if I need you. I'll try not to need you. With any luck, everything will go smoothly from here on out." He shook hands with Jake and they parted ways.

In the car, Dawn was rocking back and forth in excitement.

"What?" asked Thule.

"Marigold says she has a good secret to tell us when we get there," said Dawn.

Thule rubbed his temples and grunted. He didn't need any more secrets.

"Thule," Dawn asked, more seriously, "did I do all right back there?"

"Yeah," said Thule. "He wasn't going to hurt me, but if he was, you might have saved my life."

"Okay," said Dawn, "one more time and we're even."

Thule sighed. He hoped she wouldn't have the opportunity.

-=-

As Thule and Dawn walked up the path, Marigold came bouncing up it. Soon, both girls were shrieking and giggling and hugging each other. Thule let a suspicion that has he'd suppressed earlier bubble to the surface. He was sure that, any second, Marigold was going to announce that she was pregnant. And, he was starting to sweat.

"So," he asked as casually as he could, "What's the good news."

"Omigoditssocool," said Marigold, "IaskedJonasif..."

"Whoa," said Thule, holding up his hands, "slow down."

Marigold took a deep breath, then panting, said in a rush, "I asked Jonas if I could have one of the cars today to help Dawn get to her doctors and he said it was about time I had a car of my own. So, he's taking the morning off to go with me to buy one. And he set it up so that I could start taking professional driving lessons this afternoon."

Thule was so relieved that he could only manage a weak, "That's great." Marigold looked at him querulously.

"Sorry," he said, "I was afraid it was something else."

Both girls seemed to realize what he was talking about at the same moment. They looked at each other and started giggling"

Marigold reached up, petting his cheek, then went up on tiptoe to kiss him, "Oh, Thule, sweetie. I would love to one day, but that would not be good news, at least not until after we're finished with school. Besides, I told you I'm on the pill."

"I know," said Thule, "It's just my natural fatalism trying to drive me insane."

"Oh," said Marigold, "Jonas wanted to talk to you."

"Please tell me that my mentioning my natural fatalism didn't just remind you of that."

Marigold chuckled, "It'll be fine. He just wants to catch up."

Thule was not entirely reassured, but Jonas seemed relaxed enough when he walked into the older man's home office.

"Since when do you play golf?" Thule asked.

Jonas looked up from his putt, "I've played for years. As much of a cliche as it is, I consider it an essential skill in every executive's portfolio. I just haven't played very much. Now that Marigold's headed off to college, I'm thinking of playing more."

"My dad plays," said Thule, "He's played in places I wouldn't even think would have a golf course, like Bahrain. One of these days, I should learn the game."

"I never really had time for Marigold and golf," said Jonas. "Of course, you're a younger man than I was when I got involved in her life, so you might have more stamina."

Thule thought he understood part of the statement. Jonas was telling him that he considered Marigold his responsibility once they were in Boston. But, the bit about Marigold and golf, was he saying he knew about Dawn? Or, was Thule just slipping over the edge from healthy to unhealthy paranoia now?

Not knowing what was being said, Thule decided to play dumb, "With MIT starting next year, I don't imagine I'll have much time to play. Plus, I'll have to find a job at some point if I'm going to make it through four years. So, I suspect that it will be a long time before I get a chance."

Now, Thule wondered if he were playing dumb or trying to answer Jonas's oblique question with an equally oblique answer. Sometimes, he was too subtle to even follow his own trains of thought entirely.

"Do you have any plans for the summer?" Jonas asked.

Thule decided to give up on subtext. If Jonas wanted to get at some information, he was going to have to come out and ask for it. Otherwise, Thule was liable to get a migraine from the whole thing.

"Truthfully," he said, "I haven't thought much about it. I've been so focused on finishing out this year and getting to MIT that the whole June to September thing has been sort of a low priority. I know they want me to do more hours at the lab, finish up as much as I can before I leave."

Jonas took another putt, "I know there were some obstacles to us working together in the past. I don't know if those are still extant, but Mac speaks very highly of you."

Thule shrugged. As much as he wanted to answer straight, the question of obstacles was too troubling to ignore, "I'm willing to listen to any offer you might want to make."

"Good," said Jonas, "I'll talk with Mac about it." He made another putt. Without looking up, he added, "I noticed Marigold had three fresh holes in her body yesterday. I was only expecting two."

Thule laughed, "Not my idea. The best I could do was keep her from piercing all the other places she wanted to."

Jonas sighed, "Where did she want to pierce?"

"Places you probably don't even want to know she has, sir."

Jonas shook his head, "You're a very bad influence on my daughter, Mr. Roemer." When Thule started to protest, he raised a hand, "Thule, please allow me this one, small illusion, for the sake of my sanity."

"Yes, sir," said Thule.

"How's your project going?" Jonas asked.

"It's coming to a head," said Thule. Then, deciding that Jonas must be afraid of listening devices, he added, "I'm going into the city today to trigger the deployment phase."

Jonas nodded, "So, I understand that Ivan Vandevoort is pretty unhappy with you."

Thule's blood froze, but he decided to make a go of it, "Not as unhappy as I suspect he's going to be."

"This matter that Ivan is so unhappy with you about," said Jonas, "Have you kept my stepdaughter appraised of it?"

Thule suddenly realized that Jonas's hands were gripping his putter so hard that the knuckles were turning white. Carefully and with an eye towards the door, Thule said, "Yes, sir. I have."

Jonas let out a deep sigh that caused his putt to go wide and roll under his desk, "I assumed as much. You wouldn't be inclined to put my mind to rest on that matter, would you?"

"No, sir," said Thule.

"Again, I suspected you were going to say that." He bent down to retrieve the ball, "Marigold has some very unusual ideas. I wish I could believe that they originated with you, but they don't seem to be thought through well enough for that to be very probable. A long time ago, I told Marigold that she could talk to me about anything that was going on in her life. If I had known at the time what she would end up telling me, I would have kept my damned mouth shut."

"I understand you're buying her a car," said Thule.

Jonas nodded, "I was thinking back to all of the mischief that I imagined she could get into if she had a car. Now, I find that my imagination was sorely lacking." He shrugged, "She'll need a car in Boston. I figured she should have a chance to learn how to drive better in familiar settings first. Do you disapprove?"

"Not at all," said Thule, "Does she have any experience driving at all?"

"A little bit," said Jonas, "I haven't had the time I wanted to teach her and her mother doesn't drive at all. But, I'm getting her lessons now. I'm getting really good at this whole delegation of parental responsibility thing."

Thule smiled ruefully, "You've done a hell of a job with her so far, sir."

Jonas looked at him, startled, "You know, only a cynical bastard like you could deliver that line in such a way as to make me believe you meant it."

-=-

Uncharacteristically, Thule decided to leave the radio off on the way to New York. Normally, he would have taken the opportunity to listen to the news and see if anything pertinent to the Vandevoorts was happening. But, he was tired of hearing about the Vandevoorts. He'd finally gotten enough sleep, but he was still dead tired. No amount of sleep would ever take the kind of tired he felt right now away. Handing his evidence off to the FBI would get rid of some of it. In spite of that, the idea that he might be able to give up this obsession soon and just be normal left him feeling scared and empty. He'd been a normal high school student for less than four months. At the time, he'd been below the radar, a nobody. Until a few weeks ago, he'd thought that was what he wanted.

The fantasy still held some appeal. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to spend the next four years as a high tech ascetic, locked away in the hallowed halls of MIT. It certainly had to be an improvement on the revenge business. People rarely shot at electrical engineers. Of course, girls like Marigold rarely slept with electrical engineers, either. She's fallen hard for him because she thought he was a bad boy. He'd been doing the bad boy routine for so long that he sometimes forgot that it was an act. Marigold was already becoming wilder than he knew what to do with. How much longer would she stick around once she realized that he would rather be home reading than running himself ragged weaving an unstable web of lies that he could barely keep up with.

As well as he could, Thule put those concerns aside. He had to finish this. He could worry about the rest of his life later. Parking a little way south of City Hall, he walked the half dozen blocks to Federal Plaza.

As he got near his goal, Thule stopped at one of the ubiquitous wheeled stands to buy a cup of coffee and a buttered bagel. Taking up a vantage point on a bench that faced the monolithically ugly 26 Federal Plaza, he sipped his coffee and checked his cell phone. It read "8:42."

In the crush of morning commuters, no one paid him any mind. There were over one hundred federal agencies at number 26 and a thousand legitimate reasons for a young man in dress pants, shirt and tie to be sitting outside, sipping coffee and eating a bagel.

Thule was steeling himself to go inside. There was a weak point to his plan here and he still hadn't found a way to avoid it. It was common wisdom that the FBI was untouchable and incorruptible. Thule had no faith in common wisdom. The Vandevoorts seemed to have friends everywhere else. While he didn't know of any friends of theirs in the Bureau, it seemed foolharty to presume that they didn't have any. Thule was about to tip his hand and pray that the person he tipped it to didn't go running to Ivan with it.

He still had yet to come up with a better plan than walking in the front door and giving what he had to the first agent that would listen to him. He debated driving down to Washington DC to go to national headquarters, but he would have to fly back if he were going to make his appointment with Ivan. Or, he could do the same thing with Boston. But, he had no guarantee that either office would be less likely to have a Vandevoort ally in it.

While he was considering this, the solution walked right past him. Thule recognized her face, but her hair was different today and she was wearing more. Unfortunately, the realization of how he knew her didn't come until she was long gone.

Thule wondered if dumb luck really went so far. Maybe she was just some functionary from the Small Business Administration or Census who occasionally liked to cut loose. But, no. Thule was reasonably sure his momentary glance to confirm identity had taken in an FBI identity badge clipped to her smart, gray suit. He hoped he wasn't remembering something that hadn't been there out of desperation. He wished he'd looked closely enough to see a name on the badge. He doubted the one that he knew was real.

Thule suspected there was an internal cafeteria in number twenty-six. He hoped it wasn't very good. Without leaving the plaza, he bought himself a copy of the Wall Street Journal and a pair of cheap sunglasses and waited. Around eleven thirty, he had read every article in the paper at least twice. But, he noticed that people with federal ID cards were starting to leave the building, first at a trickle, but building to a steady stream. Thule watched them openly, as if he were waiting for someone specific which, of course, he was.

Around one o'clock, the stream of people seemed to thin out and Thule wondered if he had missed her or she wasn't coming out. If she'd chosen to eat lunch inside the building or not to eat lunch at all, Thule might have to go ahead with his original plan of walking in and praying that he got an honest agent.

At one forty, she emerged from the building, sipping from a bottle of Diet Coke. Thule stood up, stretching his legs and lighting a cigarette. She was engaged in animated conversation with a man in his early forties, also wearing an FBI badge. As they passed by him, Thule's stopped breathing. She glanced at his as if trying to figure out who he was, but the dark glasses and hands cupped over his mouth seemed to be enough that it was no more than a glance and he saw no recognition in her eyes.

He did get a chance to see the name on her badge now. Damned if she hadn't used her real name. Once they were past, Thule turned and followed them at a distance. They were headed downtown, still talking, oblivious to his presence.

Thule knew he was taking an enormous risk. Trailing a couple of FBI agents might be taken in an unfavorable light. Considering where Thule knew the young agent from, she might be the Vandevoorts' mole inside the Bureau. But, it didn't feel right.