Flights of Consciousness Book III Charitable Good DeedsChapter 29
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Flights Of Consciousness Book III: Charitable Good DeedsChapter 27 free porn video
With the proposed merger behind him, David announced that he wanted to spend a few days in Sedona for some rest and relaxation, and this time Joe and his mother agreed to join the group. Darla left her boy at the compound in Mrs. Gonzales's care.
The group did some leisurely hiking in the red-rock country, prepared their own breakfasts, dined in the better restaurants, or grabbed fast food on the run. They also enjoyed a lot of sex, both as a group, as alternating couples, and other combinations and permutations. David's mother was still spotting, so she avoided intercourse, but she welcomed Flint to the group with a world-class blowjob. David didn't neglect her. He gave her a ghostly fuck, and an invisible tongue licked her through a number of orgasms during their Saturday evening bacchanalia.
The change of pace afforded by the stunning views Mother Nature offered in the red-rock country, combined with loving support coming at him from every direction, gave David the peace of mind he'd momentarily misplaced while witnessing violent, bloody death up close and personal. The group returned to Phoenix Sunday night ready to tackle their individual efforts with renewed zeal.
Still, while the others slept, David had stayed busy in Sedona. Besides studying Arabic, he sent two more e-mails to Detective Lopez in Tucson that would put the two remaining blatant pedophile's behind bars, and he'd monitored Hummel's friends to anticipate an attack against Hummel should one or more of them incorrectly assume Hummel was the anonymous informant behind the arrest of some members of the perverted group. Lopez, David discovered, had traced the e-mails to Hummel and planned to interview him Monday morning, so David prepared Hummel's confession, naming not only Hummel's crimes but also the crimes of the non-blatant pedophiles in the group. He forwarded that e-mail to Lopez in the wee hours on Monday. Hummel, of course, would deny sending the e-mail, as well as the allegations listed in the electronic confession, but David had included enough detail that Lopez, using standard police procedures, could prove Hummel's guilt in some of the crimes listed. It was possible for one or two of the pedophiles in the group to escape justice, but David vowed to follow up Hummel's confession with more in-depth investigations of anyone who slithered out from under the net David had thrown over them.
As per his mother's request, David checked out Gordy Unger, the stable hand Tom Jensen had hired. He found nothing to give him pause about hiring the professional cowboy, but neither did David find justification regarding Unger's acceptance of his family's sexual peccadilloes. Joe told David that he'd handle Gordy Unger the same way they'd handled Tom Jensen.
"Like Tom," Joe said, "Gordy works for the brand."
David had also monitored Wilson, and not just at night. He phased out frequently during the leisurely days to look for the first appearance of a potential assassin. His failure to spot a killer lurking around Wilson frustrated him.
"Needle in a haystack," he'd muttered a number of times during the getaway, which prompted questions from his family.
"What about his future?" Flint suggested.
"Been there; done that," David said. "Nothing that points me at the assassin. Maybe our assumption that Pete would have him killed was in error."
"Maybe, but I doubt it," Flint said.
"Did he hire protection as you suggested?" Nora asked.
"Yes. I think his near-term future would be more revealing without the protection," David said.
"That and your intermittent monitoring in his present," Darla said.
"That, too," David said. "Every action in the ever-changing present alters the future."
His mother had patted his hand and said, "You're doing the best you can to protect the snake. That's all you can do, David."
Gregory Bastille watched Gordon Wilson exit the hotel where Wilson had spent the night. Large bodyguards flanked Wilson on each side as he hurried into the rear seat of a sedan. Bastille didn't follow the sedan when it pulled away from the curb. Wilson was being driven to his offices, where he'd remain until the end of the workday. The target was being a careful man.
"Not careful enough, though," Bastille whispered to himself as the sedan disappeared from his view.
Two hours later, Bastille entered the garage. He wore a disguise, and the plates on the vehicle he drove were stolen. Still, he turned his head away as he passed a security video camera just inside the entrance to the parking facility.
He stopped the vehicle in the traffic aisle, popped the trunk and exited the vehicle. He'd placed the orange barricade cones in front of a parking stall the previous night. After putting the cones in the trunk of his car, he parked it in the personally reserved stall. Looking around to see if he'd been observed, he waited a few minutes before exiting the vehicle. Confident that he hadn't been seen, he popped the trunk again and removed a shoebox that contained the car bomb he'd assembled the previous night. Listening for traffic moving up to the floor of the garage where he stood, and hearing none, he moved quickly to Wilson's vehicle and, on his back, scooted under the vehicle. He fixed the bomb to a steel strut and armed the powerful explosive device with a detonator that he could activate from a remote location. Wilson's bodyguards were muscle, not professionals. They wouldn't check the undercarriage of the vehicle before driving their client out of the garage. Bastille moved out from under the car but had to wait crouched between two cars until another vehicle drove by and disappeared from view before he returned to his sedan.
He paid the small parking fee to the attendant, again avoiding the security camera placed to capture drivers exiting the parking structure, and drove away. If the attendant remembered Bastille at all, he would remember him as a redheaded geek with horn-rimmed eyeglasses. Bastille had black hair and 20/20 vision.
In his hotel room, Bastille dialed a number on his encrypted cell phone.
"The contract will be completed this evening when the target leaves his offices," Bastille said when his call was answered. "There will be collateral damage: the subject's bodyguards and driver."
Pete Hershey didn't ask his assassin for a specific time or to describe his method. Nor did he ask why there would be collateral damage. Instead, he said, "After the hit, return to L.A. Noel will meet you at LAX for debriefing. I'll arrange to have the news report on the incident taped and forwarded to me."
"Understood," Bastille said and ended the call.
David's consciousness watched as Detective Lopez, his partner Arnold Quint, and two uniformed officers entered Robert Hummel's offices in Tucson. Lopez marched past the receptionist flashing his badge and telling her that he was on police business. They walked directly to Hummel's private office and entered without knocking.
"Robert Hummel?" Lopez said.
"Yes. What the hell... ?"
"I have a warrant for your arrest."
The two uniformed officers walked each side of Hummel's desk, grasping his elbows and lifting the shocked man from his chair.
"As I was saying, Robert Hummel, you are under arrest. Anything you say..."
With a ghostly smile, David listened to Lopez recite the Miranda warning while one of the uniformed officers cuffed Hummel's wrists behind his back.
Flint was sitting in front of David's desk when he returned to his body.
"Detective Lopez just placed Hummel under arrest."
"He'll be out on bail by noon tomorrow, or sooner," Flint said.
"Yep. Still, his arrest should lead suspicion away from him as the informant."
"You worry too much about the fate of that scumbag, David," Flint said.
"Not really. My plan is working. I am worried about Wilson, though. I connected with him before watching Lopez arrest Hummel. Fortunately, he's being careful. He's at his desk, one armed bodyguard in the reception room, and the other sitting outside his office door."
Loretta Cummings introduced herself to the five smiling faces sitting in front of her. "I'll be teaching each of you mathematics. I say each, because if Mary is correct, each of you is at a different level of understanding regarding the subject. So I know where to start with each of you," she said with a mischievous grin, "you get to take a test today." She waited for groans and was surprised when she didn't hear any.
"You'll be taking the same test. It starts out with basic math and gets more difficult with each page of the test, moving quickly into fractions, the use of decimals, proportion, some simple geometry, and then moves into beginning algebra and trigonometry, and finally, at Mary's insistence, into college level mathematics, so don't expect to finish the test. Complete the questions until you feel lost. Look ahead in the test to see if you can complete any other questions, and if you can't, stop and give me your test. The test has no time limit, and no pass or fail grades apply. I also caution you not to feel any competition, one with the other, but you will be competing. This school year, each of you will be competing only with yourself."
She handed out the tests. "Please, do your best. Starting tomorrow, I'll meet with you separately, hand out the books you'll be using, and we'll start to explore the fascinating world of mathematics individually, moving into higher mathematics as you progress at your own speed. Any questions?"
"Will you be giving homework?" Bobby said.
"Yes, and I will be reviewing your homework with you at the start of each class. I'll be more your tutor than a traditional classroom teacher."
Eileen smiled. "I like that."
"Me, too," Patty said.
When no more questions surfaced, Loretta Cummings said, "Begin the test now."
"¿Como se llamo used?" Maria Gonzales said to Bobby.
"Huh?" Bobby said.
"I just said, 'What is your name?' in Spanish," Maria said. She wrote the phrase on the whiteboard large enough for all to see.
Bobby chortled. "You know my name, Mrs. Gonzalez."
"I do, but did you know how to ask a person for his name in Spanish?"
"No," Bobby said.
"Now you do. Say after me, ¿Como se llamo used?"
Bobby repeated the Spanish phrase.
"Very good, Bobby. What about you, Katy? Can you ask me my name in Spanish now?"
Katy struggled, but after a couple of tries, she succeeded. Vince picked up on the phrase faster than Katy, and Patty and Eileen got it on the first try.
"Me llamo Señora Romero," Maria said. "What did I just say, Patty?"
"Spanish," Patty said and giggled.
Vince raised his hand. "I think you just said, 'My name is Señora Romero.'"
"That's right, Vince! Very good! What does 'señora' mean? Can you guess?"
He shook his head.
"Does it mean Mrs.?" Patty said.
"Yes. Very good, Patty. Okay, Bobby tell me your name, but say it in Spanish. Say, 'Me llamo... ' and add your name."
"Me llamo Bobby Martin," the boy said.
"Almost perfect," Maria said. "Is your real name Robert or Bobby?"
"Robert," he said, "but everybody calls me Bobby."
"The Spanish name for Robert is Roberto," Maria said.
Bobby grinned and said, "Me llamo Roberto Martin."
"Now that's perfect," Maria said with a large smile.
After hearing the rest of her students say their name in Spanish, she gave each of them a small tape recorder. "Do you know how to use this machine?" she asked. When they looked at her like she was an idiot, she stifled a laugh and gave them each a set of cassette tapes for the recorder.
She said, "Before we meet tomorrow, listen to the first tape and practice with the instructor on the tape. We'll meet tomorrow to see how much you've learned, and I'll help you with any problems you have. Okay?"
Dottie
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