Pipe Dreams (8 page)

CHAPTER 16

L
ewis stormed around the bedroom,
throwing things in every direction. He had misplaced a cufflink and descended into another of his blind rages.

“How many fucking times!” he yelled as he pulled open a drawer, glanced inside, and threw it on the floor. “Fucking irresponsible, careless, un-fucking-believable imbeciles! Useless, worthless, pieces of shit!”  A perfume bottle, hurled with considerable strength, crashed against the closet door, f
illing the room with its heavy scent. Lucy pulled the silk duvet farther over her head. Closing her eyes tightly, she stifled a whimper and crossed her fingers and toes.

“Bastards!
Repugnant smears of snail! Cunt. Fucking. Juice!” he screamed. A pot containing a blooming orchid exploded on the floor. The tirade continued for several minutes and then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Lucy peeked from under the covers. Wreckage was everywhere, but Lewis was gone.

She crawled out and surveyed the damage. Clothes, small pieces of furniture, papers, and books were strewn across the thick, champagne colored carpet. Shards from the perfume bottle and a porcelain vase sparkled in the bright light of a chandelier. Dirt from the broken pot stained a portion of the floor dark brown. The crushed and broken orchid lay nearby.

Careful to avoid shattered glass, Lucy tiptoed to the intercom and buzzed the housekeeper’s room. She wrapped a robe around her naked body, eased her feet into a pair of slippers, and put things away. By the time Flores arrived with her cleaning carousel, the room was halfway decent. They salvaged what they could and threw the rest into a trash bag. Lucy vacuumed. Flores blotted up the perfume stain near the closet. While they worked, neither of them spoke. When finished, Lucy flung her arms around the other girl’s neck and hugged her.

After
Flores left, Lucy shed her robe in front of the large mirror over her vanity. Grabbing a tissue from its silver box, she wiped the sheen from her face. A powder puff erased the blush of her recent exertion, returning her complexion to its usual shade of pale. Sitting on the gold and maroon striped stool, she turned on her cosmetic light and applied liner, shadow, and mascara to make her eyes smoky and sensual. Lipstick brightened her already full lips. Satisfied with her face, Lucy used her fingers to apply rouge to her pink areolas, darkening them. After checking her body for blemishes, she grabbed a hairbrush and stroked her long, blond hair. She was still seated in front of the vanity when Lewis returned.

“You
’re dawdling, Lucy,” he said as he approached.

“I
’m sorry, Sir. I’m just finishing now.” Setting the brush down, she twisted her hair into a thick bun. Lewis alternated his gaze between the soft skin on her neck and her arms and breasts in the mirror. Stepping closer, he put his hands on her body and trailed them upward until they covered hers. “Let your hair down,” he murmured. His eyes darkened as the golden strands fell and he guided her hands to her breasts. “Caress them,” he commanded and she complied.

He watched for a moment before pulling her into a standing position. Leaning forward, he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of her shampoo. Then he stepped back to unfasten the buttons on his shirt.

When the intercom buzzed, he cursed. His dinner guests had arrived. Looking at Lucy’s reflection, he shoved her forward, pushing down on her back so her hands pressed against the vanity and her buttocks were in the air. He kicked the stool out of the way, unzipped his fly, and took her savagely, ignoring her faint whimpers. When finished, he reached for a tissue, wiped himself, and straightened his clothes. “Get dressed,” he said, striding from the room.

Downstairs, Lewis joined his guests at the bar. A young server handed him a tumbler of single malt scotch. Glancing at the chief, he took an appreciative sip. Bowen wore a sport coat and good, white shirt. He did not wear a tie. Lewis simmered at the informality. Next to him, the old rabbi sat with his elbows on the bar, oblivious to how ridiculous he looked in his navy blue uniform. Lewis addressed him first.

“Mr. Cohen, it’s a pleasure as always.”

“And I am honored to be a guest in your delightful home, though I must say I was surprised by your invitation. It has been a long time since we dined together,” the rabbi replied.

“No, no. The invitation was long overdue. I hear you’ve managed to achieve something quite significant and it was the least I could do to show my appreciation. I’m anxious to hear the details. Perhaps, after dinner, you will share your success?”

Isaac smiled, revealing nothing but a row of worn, yellow teeth. “All in good time, Lewis. All in good time.” He picked up the glass in front of him and held it to the light. “This is an excellent whiskey. I did not know the supply trucks
were carrying such precious cargo.”

Lewis hesitated. The rabbi had been indispensable in building the Design, Harry Rose
’s loyalty to him knew no bounds, and Lewis needed him. Still, the whiskey might a have been a mistake.

“Ah, well. They don
’t. I simply had the foresight to lay in a large quantity of my favorite liquors. I only indulge in them on special occasions. Tonight qualifies as such an instance. Don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps,” Isaac replied as he took another sip.

“Oh, Isaac, your modesty is beautiful. Don’t you think it’s beautiful, Bowen?” Lewis turned to face the chief.

“Yeah. Sure. The old man
’s a hoot,” Bowen said.

Flores
appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner was served. On the way to the dining room, Lucy joined them wearing a short, lilac colored dress that shimmered when she moved. Her hair trailed down her back and almost to the hem of her skirt. The three men murmured appreciatively as they greeted her.

They followed her across the hall, taking their places around the long, glass table where
Flores and the bartender-turned-waiter served them. Over a succulent roast, they gossiped and chatted about trivial things. Lewis never combined meals with business. His mother had drilled that lesson into him hard. The scolding bitch was a stickler for etiquette. It hid the more banal aspects of their lives.

After dinner, Lewis excused Lucy. Then the three men returned to the living room. Settling into the plush furniture, they enjoyed another drink before Lewis broached the main subject.

“So it seems the investigation had the desired effect?”

“That it did! She bolted sometime late last night. This morning, the cameras caught her on the street with the Fallen. We lost her after they left the park together. She
’s with them. We know that for sure. The only problem is we seem to have lost Ramirez, too,” Bowen said.

Lewis pondered this new information, thrilled with how it played into his plan for the quarterly meeting. “This is good,” he said. “This is very good.”  Turning, Lewis asked Isaac to share his part in the story.

“Vanessa came to me like she usually does when her driver is rough with her. I comforted her with the old religion. Then I sent her home. A short while later your detective came to visit. He was bright and observant. I had not yet put away my implements and he noticed the candles and incense immediately. Surprisingly, he did not object. It would seem he has religious views of his own. He left my home happy and I suspected he would go to Vanessa. His faith and sense of duty made it easy to steer him toward her. The rest you know. Do you think the administrators will agree to the final tests?”

“Of course I can
’t be certain, but it’s quite possible that now they’ll see the necessity, especially once Harry knows Vanessa has gone missing. That and the disappearance of a seasoned detective demonstrate instability on the streets. I think they’ll at least agree to the purge and, perhaps, the implementation of Phase II. The purge will give me the specimens I need to finish the testing. The workers won’t suspect anything and we’ll leave enough people behind to maintain the necessary level of fear,” Lewis replied.

“And the new Priscilla? Is it ready?”

“Oh, yes. It’s ready and, Isaac, I have you to thank for it. If you hadn’t pulled the right strings, we might never have discovered it. Truly, that little girl’s skeleton was priceless. Without it, I’d never have figured it out. Those ancient bones and your Israeli connections made it all possible. How did you manage to convince them to let go of their technology. The DNA testing they came up with is, frankly, worth a fortune.”

“If God had not wanted us to have them, he would not have provided them. We are part of His plan, do you not think?” Isaac asked. Lewis spread his perfectly manicured
fingers in front of him and smiled.

“Well, I don
’t know about that, but I do know Priscilla 279 will achieve everything we’d hoped. It spreads rapidly and doesn’t depend on as many environmental controls.”

“What was your inspiration this time?” Isaac asked.

“Bees, if you can believe it.”

“Really, how?” Bowen asked.

“In a hive, all the workers are genetically identical, but the bees have different functions. Some bees are food gatherers. Others are nurses. Research demonstrates that when the food gatherers are removed, the nurse bees divide. Some of them become gatherers to fill the void. When the gatherers are brought back, those that mutated revert to their earlier roles. The transformation is almost instantaneous. The bees turn certain genetic markers on or off, depending on circumstances and the survival needs of the hives.”

“Fascinating. But what
’s to stop humans from reverting to their original functions?” the rabbi asked.

“I
’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, Isaac. Too complicated to explain over a good whiskey, but trust me, Priscilla 279 is what we’ve been waiting for. We’ve just got to release it before things get out of control. We’ve tipped the scales too far and there’s not enough food on the streets to support the increasing numbers of the Fallen. If we don’t move soon, I’m afraid there’ll be an uprising,” Lewis said. 

“Then I am glad we did not wait. If what happened to Vanessa and the detective can convince the others, you will be able to move swiftly?”

“Yes, I’m prepared, though honestly, I’m surprised you agreed to the plan, Isaac. Vanessa is dear to you, too.”

“Very dear. That is why this must happen. She has suffered enough. Now, only death or Priscilla will provide her the comfort I cannot.”

Lewis fought to control his expression. Isaac’s barb made him seethe. The treatment of women in the order had long been a point of contention between them, but this was neither the time nor place for another discussion on the subject. He forced a smile.

“Isaac, will you be able to see Harry before the meeting?”

“Of course. And he will do what is necessary. Unfortunately, love is the easiest emotion to manipulate.”

“Good. I
’ll coordinate the purge. Bowen, I want to be ready as soon as we have the go ahead from the others.”

“No problem,” Bowen promised. He took a final swallow from his drink and tapped Isaac on the shoulder. “We
’d better get going before it gets too late.” They stood and moved to the door.

“Thank you both for taking the time. We
’ll have more to celebrate soon. And when we do, Isaac, I’ll break out the really good stuff. It makes the whiskey we had tonight taste like swill!” Lewis clapped Isaac on the back and laughed. Isaac showed his yellow teeth briefly before stepping away from the one man in the NSO he truly despised.

When Bowen
’s car was out of sight, Lewis returned to the living room, ruminating on Isaac’s remarks. From his perspective, Vanessa Kovalic could never suffer enough for the humiliation she had caused him. He would have his men search for her when he instigated the purge. If alive, they would find her and he would finally be able to levy the punishment she so richly deserved.

When she had come to work for him, he had been delighted. Lush, exotic, and full of the pride so unbecoming to women, she had been difficult to train. He had savored the lessons, sure of his inevitable domination, but the bitch never broke completely. Instead, her screams and cries faded first to silence and then to something worse.

One morning, she had lain on the polished, wooden floor of his sleek bedroom and laughed at him. No matter how many times he had hit her, she did not quit. The audacity of her mirth had finally rendered him impotent. Her eyes gleamed in triumph as she pointed out his failed thrusting. He had only managed to control his hatred out of necessity. Had it not been for Harry and Isaac, he would have killed her then.

Lewis picked up his whiskey, drained it, and hurled the empty glass across the room. It shattered against the marble fireplace. His mouth curled into a tight snarl. Seizing the bottle off the bar, he went in search of Lucy. He found her in the den, curled up in front of the TV, where she watched an old movie on
DVD, a half empty glass of water and a wadded up tissue on the table next to her. He sidled closer. The sight of her small, bare feet further enraged him. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he dragged her off the couch and across the floor. Her screams enhanced an already powerful arousal.

In the bedroom at the top of the stairs, he threw her against a wall and snatched a pair of handcuffs from an assortment on the bureau. “Grab the ring, Lucy,” he growled. Turning to face him, she stumbled, her blue eyes wild and her powdered face streaked with tears. “Grab it,” he commanded again. This time she reached for the ring suspended from the ceiling. He cuffed her wrists to the heavy, metal loop and ripped the shimmering, lilac dress off her body. Then he instructed her to turn around.