Chapter 204

word count 1108

Algie poured steaming water into the delicate flowered tea pot, watching the crystal stream gush downward and transform to luscious brown as liquid met with grounds and danced amidst swirling vapors. There was nothing like a cuppa to set one's mind straight in times of turmoil. He had to face Winnie. Even though she'd run off to her room, he had to tell her the diamond was gone, procured by the locals as evidence. The magnificent return to England they had planned was now a bygone dream. Squashed were their plans to present the jewel to Her Majesty together.

It figured. They were living in the past, back when personal glory meant something. A time of individual heroes. Back during the cold war, daring risks and successful conquests meant something. Bravery and intrigue gathered the applause of one's superiors and if you were a lucky, a nod from Her Majesty herself. A quiet nod at that, because their work was always of the cloak and dagger variety, jobs well done for the betterment of society, unbeknownst to the masses how you saved their asses once again from maniacs and dictators alike. But the Queen knew. That was all that mattered.

He sighed. Those were the good times. And he and Winnie lived them together. Now everything was done in the name of an obscure collective entity. He and his ilk worked for that greater identity as mere cogs in its grand, voracious machine. And the machine took all the credit. Deeds were done, broken into parts and accomplished by people like him and others. But in the end, the machine gobbled it all up was called the victor and hero. Lost were the names and faces of those poor individuals who did the actual work, stomped out by this “greater good” collectivist mentality.

He had to tell Winnie about the gem. In sooth, he had thought they would find comfort in each other's arms, lamenting together this grand loss of personal glory. But now this American, the local commissioner, had stepped in and disrupted things. How could she? How could Winnie have relations with that cad? Well, she was always her own woman. Regardless her transgressions, she had to be told the sad news.

He finished his cuppa and made his way to the living room, bypassing Buzz and Trudy who were entwined in the huge recliner, necking up a storm. They didn't notice Algie as he passed by and up the staircase. At the end of the hall, he knocked on Winnie's door and stood back to wait. He hoped she would answer.

She did. And by the expression on her face, Algie knew she realized his pain, his feelings of rejection. She looked down at the floor as if embarrassed and then up again to meet his gaze. To his consternation, he saw no guilt in her sapphire eyes. He saw sadness, regret perhaps, but the independence glaring back took a stand and shrugged off all association with him. Had someone told her about the diamond? Perhaps this commissioner fellow? Did she blame him? She was acting radical and out of sorts. Winnie was riding a wild streak, it seemed.

Well, he would have none of that. Wrapping his arms around her, he planted his lips onto hers. It wasn't an aggressive act, but rather a warm one, one of invitation transported on the remnants of their decades long association and tinged with desire. Easing her back into the room, he entered with her and kicked the door shut.

* * *

Even as he and Trudy snuggled, Buzz's mind was in overdrive, worrying about events of the day. He was on desk duty by command of the commissioner. And that very same individual had just left his house after boinking his housekeeper. The invasion of privacy ate him up alive. How could one guy cause so much havoc in his life? His time at work, his time at home, all had the Commish's big, fat mug in it, glaring at him. He wasn't sure how he could live with that. He didn't like being under someone's thumb 24/7.

* * *

Elliot had been eating a sandwich, a nice, big fat ham sandwich with lettuce, pickles and mayo, when he thought of his mother. Images of her came streaking through his head just as he took a messy bite of food, her nervous smile shoving out thoughts of baseball and more, lumped together with a thousand other topics including the mystery of little girls and video games. A streak of mayo nested in a white blob on his lip as he processed the startling thought that came ensconced in remembrances of mom.

She hadn't been around in weeks. And frankly, he was having such a great time with his brothers, he never thought of her. Until today, at least. He wondered why this thought invasion, why his mother's crazy face came to mind, staring at him with expectant energy. He had to assume perhaps she was thinking of him at the moment. Well, so what? Every once in a while she remembered he existed. Big whoop! Where was she the rest of the time? He finished his sandwich and gulped the last of his milk.

That was when the phone rang. He heard his dad stomp to the kitchen to answer it, lifting the wall unit to his ear mindlessly. He mumbled hello, but then his face snapped to alertness. Uttering a series of disconnected yeses and uh-huhs, it was obvious the other side was a big talker. He hung up and looked to Elliot with dismay written all over his face.

Elliot knew what he was going to say before his dad got the words out.

“Your mom's coming to visit,” he said.

“Is she bring that fat cop with her?”

“Elliot, that is no way to talk about Buzz. He's a hero, you know.”

“Not to me.” Elliot charged out the kitchen door and didn't look back. His life had been perfect lately. He loved his dad and he loved his new mom, and his brothers were the best. They had great times together; they were a family...the family he always dreamed of. Now his stupid mother wanted to come around again and mess it up. He'd run away. He'd run away and wait for her to go home and leave him alone. He'd just have to kill a little while. She'd come and he wouldn't be home and she'd go away. He just needed somewhere to kill time for a few hours where they couldn't find him.