"How the hell did you find us," Newton said as he and Hermann struggled to stand up.
"That pathetic trail of sea water you've been dripping halfway across England, maybe? You think I couldn't figure out where Pentecost operates from?" Hannibal Chau advanced, anger rising in his voice, "You think I couldn't keep tabs on you, your plane, your location. You know, not everyone imports 50,000 gallons of sea water, 500 pounds of seafood, and 630 square feet of industrial strength aquarium glass into the heart of the countryside!"
"What do you want?" Newton asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Take a wild guess."
"You've got all the rest of them! You really want this one?" Newton said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
"We lost a few. And the ones we didn't lose we harvested and sold," Chau explained.
"And you really want this one too?" Newton repeated, becoming distraught.
"I don't want it, I need it."
"And how the hell are you gonna get it out of here? As far as I know there's no such thing as a fishbowl on wheels!"
"I'm not going to take it outta here alive. Im gonna cut it up and throw it in the back of a transport vehicle."
"No! No, you can't do that! This is scientific research! Thi-this is government property!"
"I don't give a shit!"
"Well it's mine! You owed it to me anyway!"
"I owe you nothing!"
"Get off this property!" Newton pointed at Chau, shaking with rage. Hermann gripped his arm in an effort to hold him back.
"I'm not going anywhere!" Chau's men advanced, guns pointed straight at them. "Get these two out of the way," he added, gesturing to Newton and Hermann, who both backed up instinctively. Two of Chau's thugs took them by the shoulders, pushed them to the side and held them at gunpoint. Chau ordered the rest of his gang to break the tank. Equipped with the remains of a broken anti-aircraft gun, several of Chau's men slammed into the glass like it was a battering-ram. The glass creaked.
"No!" Newton screamed. Hermann looked at him with great concern. Again they rammed the tank and a faint crack could be heard.
"You're crazy! You know how much water is going to rush at us all?!"
"Aim higher!" Chau commanded. Another slam. Another crack. A zig-zag fracture spiked up to the top of her tank. Newton was beside himself. Hermann was breathing heavily. Chau's men pulled back and then there was a click, the loud, unmistakable click of a Duke's Enfield revolver. All motion stopped. Everyone turned to see Wing Commander Pentecost standing in the doorway. Though guns were still pressed to their heads, Newton and Hermann's hearts were uplifted.
"My aim's perfect," Stacker said with icy confidence, the revolver dwarfed in his powerful hand.
"Pentecost," Chau said, casually putting his hands in his pockets, "You're outnumbered."
"I'm quite certain you are," Pentecost said unflinchingly. From behind him stepped two, three, four men, all holding revolvers. They were shortly followed by another group of men until they outnumbered Chau's thugs two to one.
"Drop you guns now," Pentecost commanded calmly; the thunder behind his words was something no one could ignore. Chau's men lowered the piece of make-shift battering ram and all their guns to the floor. Newton and Hermann relaxed as Stacker's men lead the octopus thieves out the building.
"We've got a lot of sorting out to do, Chau," Stacker said as he steered the man out of the building.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," he called over his shoulder to Geiszler and Gottlieb, not taking his eyes off Chau. As soon as they were alone, Newton and Hermann embraced. Soft declarations of love were muffled by their shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, Hermann," Newton said, holding his hands and looking down, "This is all because of me." Hermann squeezed his hands and jerked them in such a way as to get Newton to look up at him.
"You weren't to know, Newton. It was a miracle he found us at all," Hermann said. Then he leaned forward a little, his brow creased, "You weren't to know, my dear." Newton was encouraged by the tenderness in Hermann's voice, especially his use of the words 'my dear.' Newton nodded, sill a little guilty. He swallowed.
"I have to check on her."
"Oh yes, of course," Hermann said, making way for him, but Newton would not allow him to let go of his hand. Hermann, in turn, allowed himself to be lead to the tank. The octopus could not be found at first. Newton did not bang on the glass or even call for her.
"God, she must be so traumatized," Newton said under his breath. Hermann squeezed his left hand. Newton suddenly pulled him close and whispered. "Look, there she is." He pointed to something in the water, very far back in the dark corner, opposite the crack. It was a tentacle curling around one of her many jars. Newton put his right hand on the glass, unable to reach her. Hermann tugged at his hand gently.
"Perhaps we should brace the tank, Newton."
"Yeah, Christ, how are we gonna do that?"
"Perhaps adhere something to the glass."
"Yeah," Newton breathed, running his hands through his hair, dropping Hermann's hand. Hermann walked up to the tank and stared up at the thin crack. "Something flexible,' Newton added. Just then Stacker returned.
"He's all strapped in gentleman. I would have been back sooner but one of our tires needed to be replaced. Newton spun around; there was hope in his eyes.
"Hey! Can we have the blown tire?" With the help of Pentecost's men (the ones who weren't standing guard over Chau and company), Newton was able to brace the top of the tank with partially melted tire and some metal bracketing. During installation, Newton flashed a smile at Hermann from atop the ladder. Hermann couldn't help but smile back, seeing Newton happy. The man is so enamored of these creatures, he thought to himself. At first he thought Newton's enthusiasm manic, insane even, but now, he was starting to understand. Hermann had once given a professor that sort of happy look when he had understood a mathematical theory. It was when he understood something greater than himself. Perhaps that is what Newton is feeling, he added mentally, the importance of something greater than himself. After an hour or so, Wing Commander Pentecost took his leave and Chau's menace with him. Newton and Hermann were alone once more. Almost. Newton began to fill a 2-gallon glass jar with various sea-life from the smaller aquarium in a corner of the outbuilding.
"Peace offering," Newton said to Hermann with a lopsided grin. Hermann watched nervously as Newton hauled the now heavier jar up the ladder, let water inside it and lowered it near the frightened octopus. When Newton returned to the ground, they watched with bated breath. Newton hoped against hope that she would emerge from the shadows. An hour went by. Hermann began to lean on Newton to take the weight off his leg and Newton wrapped his arm tightly around his waist. Newton felt the urge to leave the tank, but then, a tentacle reached out with painful slowness to the jar. Newton sucked a quiet breath into his mouth. Hermann held onto Newton more tightly, more with excitement for him than the need for support. They watched, spellbound, as the creature dexterously opened the jar and dragged it back into the corner. Newton became disappointed, sagging slightly, but after a few minutes, several tentacles stretched out into the dim light in the front of the tank. Halfway between the dark and the light, an eye could be seen. Newton pressed himself up against the glass. Tentatively, an arm reached up to the glass and many suckers adhered themselves to the glass in front of Newton. Newton placed a hand on the glass at the same point. Hermann breathed in, totally in awe of Newton's connection with the creature. The arm soon retreated but Newton could not have been happier. Hermann corrected himself mentally, No, not greater than himself, equal to. He was almost as reluctant to leave as Newton was. They walked out into the early evening sun with their arms still around eachother's waists.
"What are you going to name her? Or have you already done so?" Hermann asked, his voice lighter than usual.
"Theodora," newton said after a short pause.
"What does that mean?"
"It's Greek. It means 'gift from God.'"
"Exactly what I was thinking," Hermann said, leaning down slightly so Newton would get the point. He did, and grinned more broadly than ever. After a meager yet pleasant dinner, Newton headed up to take a shower. Hermann went up a few minutes later. He smiled to himself thinking of Newton's wet, naked body and the possibilities of the evening that could unfold. He lovingly patted the man's uniform that he'd tossed on the bed. He puzzled as he felt some paper beneath it. Thinking it was the two letters he'd sent him, he pulled them out to read them again for the fiftieth time. But to his astonishment, they were two entirely different letters. The return address was Westminster. Hermann sat on the lone chair in the room, lost for words. Newton came into the room wearing only a towel.
"Hey, baby," Newton said cheerfully until he could see that Hermann was stone-faced and upset. "What's wrong? Oh." His eyes fell on the letters.
"What is the meaning of this?" Hermann's voice was trembling with hurt, rage. Newton swallowed.
"Hermann, I can explain."
"When did these arrive?"
"Yesterday, I swear. I was gonna talk to you about it this morning and then Chai arrived..."
"They're unopened."
"Yes, I-I couldn't face opening mine. And I didn't want you to read yours, not just yet. I mean, what if..." Newton's eyes were fogging up, "What if one of us was rejected and what if it was you and you felt like a failure and worse than that...What if you got excepted and I didn't? You'd think I was a failure, pathetic and you'd be the breadwinner and I'd be a bum, a nobody..." Hermann had tried to cut him off two sentences back but now he pounced.
"Newton," he said, his anger gone, "You really believe I could ever think of you as a failure?"
"No," Newton said unconvincingly, not making eye contact, wiping his tears away.
"My dear, I could never think that of you."
"You mean it?"
"Certainly." Hermann handed Newton his letter and began to open his. "Let's read them together."
"OK," Newton said, nodding his head after swallowing again. They both unfolded the letters. Hermann kept his eyes on Newton.
"Let's read them aloud together." Newton nodded again.
"Dear Newton/Hermann," They both read, "I am pleased to inform you," they looked at one another, daring to hope, "that you have been accepted as..." Hermann sprang to his feet just as Newton moved to embrace him. They gripped eachother very tightly in the knowledge that they would both be teaching at the prestigious Westminster School. They would be together.
"I need to sit down," Hermann said, practically shaking. Newton helped him to the chair and sat at his feet. He leaned on the knee of Hermann's better leg. They both looked at their letters, reading them over to make sure it hadn't been a mirage, looking at eachother every few moments with a smile of happy disbelief. Silent minutes passed by and Newton spoke.
"Why don't you have a shower?" he said, stroking Hermann's knee.
"No, I shan't. I was actually thinking of rubbing some ointment into my leg and heading off to bed." Hermann placed a hand on Newton's.
"Want me to?" Newton said hopefully. Hermann nodded, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Newton fetched the ointment and began to massage the cream into Hermann's damaged leg. Though the wound was healed the scaring was almost completely permanent. Newton asked him if it felt better but Hermann deliberately didn't reply to get Newton to look at him.
"Why don't you try higher up?" Hermann said quietly, not breaking his gaze.
"I thought the injury was down - oh!" Newton slid his hand up Hermann's trousers and started to rub the already hard bulge that awaited him. Hermann shifted his hips up as he closed his eyes and licked his lips. Newton was so aghast at Hermann's uncharacteristically sexual action that he stopped rubbing.
"Take it out please," Hermann said, fighting the urge to guide Newton hand to the desired action.
"Sounds like you could be talking about a soufflé," Newton joked nervously, but Hermann took no notice and awaited Newton's hand. He felt the man unfasten his trousers and slid a hand him to take hold of him. Hermann melted at the touch. Newton got up to his knees and the towel slipped off his hips. With his left hand he held onto Hermann's thigh and with his right, delicately pulled Hermann's plump cock out of his trousers. Newton took the tip of Hermann's shaft into his mouth.
"Good heavens!" Hermann exclaimed. He looked down at Newton. Newton sucked off.
"Is this ok?" Hermann nodded, the pleasure rising in his chest and groin. Newton took the man's swollen head back in his mouth, wrapping his lips around him. He began to work him up and down, his saliva making the member in question very slick. Hermann reached down between his legs to find the back of Newton's head, the hair still damp from the shower. Newton moaned around him, cupped his balls and took more of him in all at once. Hermann called out. After a minute when Hermann fought to regain his composure he looked down.
"I think perhaps we should move to the bed," he said weakly. Newton, flushed, slipped him out of his open mouth. He got up, his own hardness exposed, and helped Hermann to his feet. They worked together to remove Hermann's clothing, wildly kissing with every opportunity, and soon their naked bodies were folded together. Neither had to speak. Hermann had deliberately placed himself under Newton and had crooked his good leg up and out to indicate who was entering who. Newton's tattooed chest was plastered against Hermann's blank one as he kissed his neck. He reached for the supplies that they'd stashed under the bed. He applied some lubricant to his fingers before gently working into Hermann's soft entrance. He felt Hermann's hands graze his nipples, fondle his ribcage, and slide around his back. Hermann's soft grunts spurred him on to add a second finger. Newton opened him wider and Hermann ground into his abdomen. Newton removed his fingers with the sudden need to move to the next step. Hermann let out a noise of displeasure. After a few moments of shifting and sitting up, Newton rolled a condom over himself and added more lube. Hermann pulled him down again the second he was taken care of. Newton positioned his dick at Hermann's awaiting ingress. He eased in. Hermann keened. Soon, Newton was enveloped by Hermann's heat but he couldn't savor it for long. Hermann arched his back and Newton began to trust slowly.
"Take me in hand, Newton," he commanded softly, deep and full of lust. Newton complied, his eyes hooded with overwhelming urge. He gripped the headboard with his left hand and Hermann with his right. Hermann brought his right hand to join him, his left hand holding Newton's ass. it didn't take them long to find a rhythm they agreed on. Precision could wait. They made love with more abandonment than when Hermann had entered Newton. Hermann whispered "yes, yes, yes" like a broken record. Newton bucked with great enthusiasm and precious little finesse.
"Hermann, I-I'm getting close," Newton warned. A second later he managed to graze Hermann's most sensitive inner spot, and was rewarded with a groan that made him use whatever was left of his brain to find again. Somehow Hermann managed to speak.
"Oh...Newton..." he panted, "bang on." Newton was on the edge and the use of this comically British slang set him on a laugh that tumbled into the most glorious orgasm of his life. Hermann got his wish of seeing Newton come and he was not disappointed. Besides the shared stimulation of his tumescence, the mere sight of Newton losing control sent Hermann off too. His own release spattered Newton's inked chest as he whimpered, watching the man above him. Newton's head was thrown back and his mouth was open, almost forming a smile. He fell onto Hermann in a damp heap after their waves of pleasure had subsided. Newton resumed a now exhausted laugh. Hermann kissed his neck.
"I don't think I've ever laughed right before I came, before."
"It was glorious," Hermann said with a smile himself.
"I'm sorry I laughed but it was so endearing, you using a slang like that at that precise moment."
"I'm so glad you enjoyed it," Hermann said sarcastically, unable to be truly offended. Their breathing returned to normal and Newton began to get restless. He kissed Hermann languidly and the latter stroked his face.
"It wasn't my intension that we'd end up in bed together."
"Like hell it wasn't," Newton scoffed, very pleased with how the evening had transformed. Hermann smirked.
"Preparing to disengage, sir!" Newton said saluting, eliciting an amused "HA!" of surprise from Hermann as he did so. After he had washed himself off, he settled back into bed and they nestled together and fell into a heavy orgasm-induced sleep. The next morning Hermann came down the stairs in his dressing gown to find Newton making breakfast. The smell of eggs and toast filled the kitchen. He kissed Newton on the cheek.
"Good morning my little cephalopod groupie." Newton burst out laughing.
"What?! Seriously, what the hell does that mean?"
"Surely, by now, you must know that 'groupie' means group captain." Newton shook his head, still laughing. "And you're a commander of octopuses, so... Well, it was my sad attempt at a pet name for you." Hermann opened the newspaper and Newton flopped a couple eggs on Hermann's plate, setting it in front of him.
"It was very sweet," Newton said with a kiss. Hermann gave him a sour look.
"And talking of cephalopods, I've been meaning to ask you; why do you have a single squid on one arm?"
"Oh, yeah," Newton said, sitting down with his own plate of food, "Um..." They began to eat. "I was really into squid first, and then after the tattoo, I really got into octopuses and the rest of the inking sorta spiraled out of control." Hermann acknowledged that he understood. They finished their meal in comfortable silence.
"Newton," Hermann said, waiting until he had the man's undivided attention, "I rather enjoyed our amorous congress last night."
"Always an understatement with you," Newton said. He kissed his mouth, the taste of their nourishing breakfast on their lips. He cleared their plates away. They spent the rest of the morning writing letters to the headmaster of Westminster School.* Although they would have to move to London, they would keep the cottage as well. Newton arranged for members of the British secret service (and scientists sworn to secrecy) to monitor Theodora, to feed her and make sure she never got bored. After they had discussed everything until they couldn't anymore, Newton got up from the table.
"OK, present-time."
"What?"
"You'll see." Newton returned with something behind his back. He told Hermann to close his eyes. Hermann heard a clunk on the table in front of him. He looked down to see a hunk of metal. He didn't know what to think for a moment or two until it dawned on him what it must be. It was a piece of the clapped out Boulton Paul Defiant they had flown and crashed together.
"I saved what I could."
"It means that much to you?"
"It's our plane." Hermann couldn't speak for tears and pulled Newton onto his lap. Neither let go for several minutes.
A week later, after an early start, they were off to their new flat in Westminster. It was a beautiful morning in London as they approached the white fronted terrace with pillars and darkly painted doors.
"I wish I could have carried you over the threshold," Hermann said once they had shut the door behind them.
"No, I would have carried you in. And besides, the neighbors might object." Hermann became more serious than usual, but with bittersweet joy on his face. He took Newton in his arms.
"So you don't mind spending the rest of your foreseeable future with this nobby old lag, then?" Newton gave him a deep sensuous kiss.
"You mean an upper-crust airman with a lot of experience? No, that's why I'm standing here in our apartment."
"You're picking up the lingo!"
"I can learn."
"I would marry you if I could, you know?" Hermann said in total seriousness. Newton simply could not speak for several seconds.
"Hermann, really?
"Yes."
"I would too."
"To me?"
"I think you're the only person who'd be worth it."
THE END
(sequel to follow in the next few months)
*FYI, John Christie was the headmaster of Westminster School from 1937-1950
