Chapter 4 - Asylum

Here's the next instalment of my Fanfic. Reviews welcome

9:45am –6 November: The Protection Party were moved to a small waiting area in the Medical Centre whilst Petra's discharge papers were processed. Petra had taken the first tentative steps from her bed since the ordeal. Slowly she walked toward the phalanx of expectant men who stood to attention as she and Heathrow approached.

"Can you walk to the car?", asked Heathrow, his hand lingering on her elbow as he followed close behind.

"Yes. I'll be OK", Petra half turned toward him. Suddenly she collapsed toward him and he caught her again.

"I don't agree, sweetheart", he commented drily. Swiftly he reached under her knees and lifted her body, carrying her securely. Petra took a few deep breaths and burying her head into his chest allowed herself a small smile. Chelsea noticed, and winked at Petra conspiratorially. Heathrow allowed himself a tight little grin as she held him for support – arms around his neck. If the honey didn't want to walk, he'd willingly oblige by carrying her.

"I'm sorry, Heathrow, I'm still weak", she said softly

"Oh, of course you are", he replied mildly, however his tone conveyed he didn't believe her and was content to play her game. Heathrow's grip tightened on Petra and he stepped up pace as he approached the other men. Petra's eyes widened in fear as they came closer to the men who were all armed with sub-machine guns. The florid-faced, moustached man smiled as Heathrow came within reach; his tall, thin, mean looking compatriots crowded in on the Immigration Officer and the girl in his arms.

"Heathrow Woodford", a voice boomed from somewhere ahead. Heathrow turned in the direction of the voice and another man appeared, aged in his thirties, with sandy straight, slicked-back hair and carried the air of an aristocrat. Agent Branxton Hall, one of the most dangerous members of the Government Security Force "long time no see" Heathrow's face darkened and he tensed. Petra squirmed worriedly. Heathrow's eyes met hers and seemed to say "Don't worry. I'm with you"

Hall strode toward Heathrow and when he reached the two, reached out a gloved hand and gripped the girl's chin, so that she was forced to look at him –a tactic Heathrow, himself had employed in the past – designed to intimidate suspects. The Agent released her roughly after a moment or so, and Petra turned herself into Heathrow's chest and began sobbing. He felt tears dampen his leather jacket, and his eyes flashed with barely concealed fury.

"OK, tough guy." Quipped the Immigration Officer "What's the itinerary today?"

"Direct to London with one lunch stop – one brief lunch stop", Hall shifted his position onto the ball of his opposite foot. "I trust you've brought a thermos"

"Yeah, full of hot coffee. With enough for two", Heathrow replied. Petra squirmed again, wriggling herself into a vertical position. Heathrow resisted, his hold tightening. She gazed at him, her expression sorrowful. She didn't want to leave the security of his embrace, but she felt she had to – for his sake and to prove to herself she could be strong.

"I think I must walk. Yes?", Petra murmured softly, easing gradually into a standing position. Without warning, an agent with thinning hair and thin face stepped behind Petra and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, pulling her against him. At the same time, the florid-faced moustached, and the sallow-faced agents seized Heathrow, throwing him face-first against the wall and proceeded to disarm him.

"Your weapon will be returned at your car", said Hall examining the firearm, a nine millimetre H&K. "if you're a good little boy", Hall continued smoothly "I'll issue you with one of these", he indicated the sub-machine gun on, Gossard, the florid-faced man. Heathrow and Petra's gazes locked. Denton Stevens, the man who held Petra buried his face menacingly into her neck and was kissing it. Tears ran down the girl's face; she was terrified. Heathrow turned to face his former colleague.

"Tell Stevens to cool it with the girl", his voice was low, and he could be menacing when he put his mind to it "if anything happens to her before the hearings, it isn't gonna look too good for you, or Creedy" Hall regarded Heathrow thoughtfully for a moment, then struck his face hard. The blow sent the Immigration Officer reeling.

"Heathrow!", Petra, struggling vainly in Stevens grip cried. The Medical Centre was deserted. Heathrow understood that Hall's assault on him was intended to rattle the girl, who obviously cared for him.

Denton Stevens was enjoying himself. He hadn't had the opportunity to get so personal with a girl so beautiful, and she was very beautiful. Regretfully, he mused, he would never get to know her over the long term as she obviously had a thing for Heathrow Woodford. However, Denton's behaviour toward the gorgeous Eastern European was wholly different to other women who had the misfortune to be 'detained' by him and his friends. For one thing he was far more gentle with Petra and his kisses were soft- whereas he bit his other victims.

From that moment, proceedings were expedited. At Branxton's signal, Stevens and Petra passed them en route to Heathrow's car. Ian Gossard and Willy Peterson released Heathrow and flanking him followed. Branxton was as cold as ice, Heathrow thought, worriedly. He understood the logic of screwing with detainees, but victims and witnesses? Heathrow himself wasn't the most compassionate, but something about Branxton, set his teeth on edge.

By 10:30, Heathrow and Petra were safely cocooned in the Camry. One of Hall's men, the sallow faced, yellow toothed Willy stood by the passenger side door, his hand resting on the car roof. Hall leant against the driver's side brandishing the sub-machine gun.

"Well, here's your prize, old boy", Hall loomed in the open window as he passed the weapon to Heathrow who was in the driver's seat. In the passenger seat, Petra shrank into her seat and watched fearfully as Heathrow inspected the gun. His H&K was also returned as promised, quickly disappearing into the glove-box.

"It's been a blast catching up, Branxton", Heathrow glanced at Petra as he said this while fastening his seatbelt intending to make a quick getaway; the car's engine was already running. Branxton, however wasn't ready to let them go just yet.

"Until London then, Heathrow!", the last word was uttered sarcastically. Hall held his friend's arm tightly "Keep in radio contact. We'll be monitoring you" With those words Hall stepped back. No time was wasted in getting out of Bexhill by Heathrow who put the car in gear and accelerated immediately. Glancing in the rear view mirror, Heathrow spotted the rest of the party following close behind.

The journey through the main reception area was slow. Almost all of the incoming traffic consisted of buses entering, some filled with refugees, some empty. The buses were interspersed with military vehicles; jeeps and humvees. Petra settled to a comfortable position in her seat and half turned to gaze at Heathrow. His face was bathed in the yellow-orange glow of the instrument panel lights. A GPS device was fastened to the windscreen on Heathrow's side. She studied his face closely. She longed to touch him, to kiss his full lips. In the driver's seat, Heathrow frowned at the deteriorating weather . The sky turned black. It's about to piss down, he thought grimly. After two more minutes, the protection party reached the exit of Bexhill. Petra turned away from the man to stare out the window. She wouldn't be sorry to leave this hellish place.

Sure enough, as Heathrow predicted, it began to rain; light at first, then the raindrops became larger, quickly turning into a relentless downpour forcing Heathrow to travel well below the speed limit. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he spotted the Protection Detail's car. Gossard was driving; Hall rode shotgun with Willy and Denny in the rear seats. Heathrow allowed himself a tight grin: He could have sworn he saw Gossard intentionally run down a refugee lying in the road in the main reception area – he and Petra certainly heard a scream of pain. Petra had started and turned to gaze fearfully over her shoulder.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep?" Heathrow suggested gently

"I will try", she shifted toward him. In a slow, fluid movement, he took his left hand off the wheel and extended his arm around her shoulder, bringing her against him. Petra didn't resist. Nestling herself against him, she placed a shy, tentative hand on his chest. Their faces were so close together, she could almost kiss him from her proximity. Desire coursed through his being, so strong, it took all of Heathrow's willpower to concentrate on the road in front of him.

The rain fell even harder, if that was even possible. The windscreen of the Camry shimmered with sheets of water cascading down its length. Heathrow disengaged himself and placed both hands on the wheel. Beside him, Petra settled and closed her eyes. She still wore the double hospital gowns the nurses issued to her. Opening her eyes, she turned herself to look at the man driving. His face was set in grim concentration, both hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes trained on the road, unblinking. Petra shifted again carefully to glance through the back window at the vehicle behind them. Government Security still tailing them.

Heathrow turned to face her briefly "Everything OK?"

"Yes, OK", she replied, her eyes fearfully fastened on the car behind them and the four occupants therein.

Heathrow gently nudged her and not for the first time urged she get catch some sleep. Petra complied, sitting in the passenger seat looking out the front windscreen.

"Did Denny hurt you?", Heathrow asked softly

"No", Petra said, "but he started kissing and licking my neck!", this brought renewed crying "I'm sorry"

"Don't be", he leant toward her, his left hand stroking her cheek. Impulsively, Petra grabbed his hand and began to kiss it in much the same fashion as Denton had subjected her to earlier. Heathrow grunted in surprise, then pleasure.

"Oh, Heathrow! Heathrow!", she sobbed his name, clutching his hand.

Heathrow slowed the car and pulled in to the layby. The car behind them did likewise. Undoing his seatbelt, then hers, he drew her into his arms and began kissing her. Their lips brushed. Heathrow lightly nipped hers, then closed in, the kiss becoming more urgent. Petra responded ardently, opening her mouth to receive an even deeper kiss. Heathrow moaned in ecstasy as he kissed her. They were interrupted by the two-way.

"Everything alright?"

He turned his face slightly to the side to answer "Fine. The girl had an anxiety attack. Underway shortly"

"Copy"

The two occupants of the Toyota faced each other and smiled. The Immigration Officer embraced her. He began caressing her face with his lips. She turned her face upwards, murmuring his name over and over. His full lips traversed the contours of her face, eyes, and brows, passing her nose, lips, chin and moving toward her throat when the kisses turned urgent. Petra gave a cry of pleasure and inched her face skyward. She clutched his shoulders never wanting the moment to end.

Heathrow's kisses subsided gradually, until he reluctantly disengaged himself from her embrace. He contemplated the road ahead and glanced quickly in the rear view mirror. The other vehicles were still with them. The Toytota's indicator flashed and Heathrow pulled out into the road. The rain was ever relentless. Both occupants stared miserably at the windscreen, and Petra slowly fell asleep.

An hour later, the cars pulled up at a secluded bungalow. Petra awoke startled as Heathrow killed the engine. An elderly man with long grey hair and beard came to greet them. The rain had lessened to a moderately heavy downpour. The door of the other vehicle slammed as Branxton Hall alighted with a furious expression on his face. The elderly fellow saw this, but Heathrow didn't as he and Petra approached. Heathrow whispered urgently into Petra's ear.

"I'll say you've become ill. Just play along. You'll be stopping here with Jasper", he indicated the genial man on the porch. "When I tell you to – faint"

Petra nodded, but with uncertainty. Heathrow addressed Jasper.

"I'm calling in the favour you owe me"

"Yeah, had a feeling I'd be seeing you again, Heathrow. How you been? Jasper came forward and gently took Petra by the arm. Petra actually wasn't feeling well. The world began to oscillate and spin.

"Heathrow", she said his name so quietly, a sibilant whisper "Heathr-" Unconsciousness claimed her and Heathrow quickly carried her through Jasper's house into the guest bedroom. Working together the two men placed the girl under the covers, and looked at each other worriedly.

"There's a bloke I know", Jasper told Heathrow, whose features were clouded by anxiety as he gazed achingly at the girl he was falling in love with, "we can trust him" Jasper then left Heathrow, but not before glancing over his shoulder to see the other kneeling by the bed and bringing a slender wrist to his lips and kissing it.