Author's Note: Winnie's legal name, "Guinevere Camden" was first mentioned in the story "Hope."
"The Love Offensive" is a prequel to all previous stories written with the exception of "A Pleasant surprise."
Geeks United was first introduced in the story "Weapons of Mass Destruction." For backstory please read it.
GIDDY ALERT! This is a very romantic chapter, although the title doesn't suggest it.
Preemptive Strike
Winnie and Spike were smouldering with passion. The pent-up emotions exploded. The feelings she has long suppressed and repressed came out in very passionate kisses. He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom, their lips still locked together.
He wasn't going to be denied this time, not now, not after what he has been through. He wanted her so much. He wanted the peanut butter skin, the plump juicy cherry tomato lips, and the firmness of her body.
This all-consuming fire, could this be possible, can it be? She breathlessly called his name, "Oh, Michaelangelo…" They fell onto his bed, she was pinned underneath him, "Winnie…" he murmured her name with heat and passion.
She chose this moment of intimacy to reveal her real name, "Guinevere," she said.
"Who's Guinevere?" he asked as his lips followed the contours of her neck.
"My real… name… is Guinevere," she said painfully breathless.
He stopped momentarily, he looked into her eyes and said, "Even your name is beautiful, Miss Camden."
They could have consummated their love right there and then but for the insistent beeping of the computer. Spike exhaled and felt deflated, that persistent noise meant something urgent has happened and he must attend to it. Winnie sensed the agony, minus the ecstasy. It took them a long time to slow their heart rate, both unwilling to let go, until she urged him, "its ok, Spike."
"No, it's not ok but I must…" He forcibly made himself get off Winnie. She remained in the room, hoping he'd include her. He was focused. She imagined that must be how he's like in the Command Truck. The look of concentration on his face betrayed the fear he held in his heart, "What is it?"
She could read him. They've worked long enough together for her to know this wasn't just any case. This was massive. This was life and death. "What is it?"
He turned to her, "Nothing…" he came forward to her. "Make me something to eat. I'm hungry." He kissed her plump lips again before sending her out.
He went back to the monitor. Someone has been buying potentially explosive materials. These were not C-4, or Semtex. Whoever it is knows to mix chemical compounds from ordinary household products. By itself, a purchase of pool chlorinator was just a purchase of pool chlorinator; but not when it's in conjunction with other stuff and at certain quantities. He was sure it wasn't intended to clean swimming pool. The RCMP has flagged an individual using the same credit card to buy different industrial and household stuff from various hardware and grocery stores. What are the odds?
Based on the products being purchased, he thought in all likelihood, they were making chlorine gas. But Colin K Murphy wasn't known to make this type of bomb. Bombers have signatures. They have certain styles and preferences. This was so way out there, it just wasn't plausible but he wouldn't discount it either because under the circumstance chlorine gas would be perfect. It would create chaos and disrupt proceedings.
At SRU HQ, a different drama was unfolding. It was Peter who alerted Sgt Parker, "Boss, check your email. An alert has been flagged by RCMP. Someone called asking for a list of EOD personnel."
Parker checked his email. Someone wants the name of EOD personnel?! It's an exclusive Unit, to which Scarlatti belonged. A Unit composed of men and women whose identities are protected by the Government. He called Spike to let him know.
"Hey boss, what's up?"
"Someone's made an inquiry to RCMP about names of EOD personnel, should I be worried?"
"Nah, they won't find anything, I have control." he said cheerfully.
Parker shook his head; he has long given up trying to understand how the Techie's brain worked. He changed the subject, "Two more days till the Trial date. I expect we should hear from Anjelica Delaney soon about Winnie."
"Yeah. Boss... I'd much prefer it if we can keep her in our custody." Parker didn't comment, "Boss?"
"I hear ya. Let me see what I can do."
"Thanks Boss."
Yesterday, after the computer alerted him that his message has been received and forwarded by Mr PS, he took control of their computer hardware and deleted the Trojan email. He couldn't let his name float out there and he couldn't allow his photograph, although incognito out there either. He only used it as an irresistible "bait." He took inspiration from the "I love you" computer worm which caused so much damage in May, 2000. It affected tens of millions of computers because the recipients couldn't resist opening the email that appeared as a love letter.
By the time Mr PS reached the law office at nine in the morning, everyone from junior clerks to the most senior law partner were all sweating blood and tears. They have been hacked and they didn't know how.
"How did you know we were hacked?" asked Mr PS. It was just too incomprehensible that it would happen two days before Trial. "This is unacceptable."
A young gun replied, "We know we've been hacked 'cause there's one email that keeps replicating itself. The server crushed about five this morning. We're still trying to find out the source of the Trojan email."
"And what is this email that keeps replicating saying?" he asked.
The junior clerk said, "It says, 'Assholes'… over and over again."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Mr PS thought perhaps it was he who spread the virus but he couldn't be sure. But his gut was telling him it was him! What did he know of Trojan emails and viruses? He couldn't… wouldn't… admit to it. It might just be coincidence. If I raise my hand up, my head would be in a platter and my body in the bottom of the ocean.
They heard his menacing voice before he was physically inside the conference room, "You mean to tell me this hacker has control!" It was Scott Packer.
The senior partner tried to pacify the client, "We have it under control. We've employed a dozen IT experts to fix the problem. They'll be here soon."
Packer was livid beyond words. He kicked a chair and threw a vase at one of the secretaries. "Idiots!"
He turned to the Jury Consultant, "Pierre, how's Jury selection?"
"That's been sorted. Jury has been selected weeks ago and on that count, they're a sympathetic bunch." He wished. Packer smiled for the first time since blundering into the meeting. Then without warning he scowled at them.
"We still have no news about the bloody guy who's harbouring the witness." Scott kicked the chair; they were alarmed at the way his moods go up and down with such ferocity and frequency.
Pierre Simon ingratiated himself, "On that count I can help. I received a tip, name and photo of the guy."
"Show me," barked Scott.
Mr PS scrolled down his iPhone's messages, "It's gone. I must have deleted it." He knew he didn't. He definitely didn't. And if he didn't, then the hacker must have. Shit. Shit. Shit. But no way in hell would he admit to it.
Scott leaned on the executive swivel chair, his long manicured finger steeple together, "Well…"
Pierre Simon squirmed, "Well, I can tell you what I can remember. The guy in the photo was wearing a bomb suit and he has an Italian sounding name."
"Bomb suit you said." The senior partner instructed one of the secretaries to call RCMP to obtain a list of EOD personnel. The conversation turned sideways when the trained communication experts at RCMP questioned the secretary why she needed the names of protected government employees.
The secretary didn't know why so she said, "It's ok, forget it." RCMP didn't forget. It flagged the call, added the phone number to the Terror watch list. Department of Defence sent an alert.
Spike smiled. They won't find him. But could he find Colin Kelly Murphy in time? This was the big question he was mulling over when Winnie appeared bearing food. Her hair was still wet from the shower, she was wearing a white camisole dress and she looked very inviting in it.
"It's too late for breakfast but too early for lunch… so here's some biscuits, cheese, dips and ajar of Nutella."
"Ummm…" he said, "I can think of something else I'd like to dip in the Nutella." She laughed. It was a merry, happy, crackling laugh he loved so much.
He turned off the computer. Murphy could wait.
She made her to sit on his lap; she straddled him and felt every inch of his hardened muscles. He dipped his finger in the Nutella, and spread the chocolate goodness on her lips which he always loved the feel of. He licked, bit, sucked and kissed the lips he longed for. Nutella couldn't be the same again.
It wasn't just about giving in to carnal desires. It was about making love. After they were sated with love, he asked as he kissed the tip of her nose, "Do you know Adrian Henri?
"I can't say I do," was her honest reply.
"Well, in 1967 along with Brian Patten and Roger McGough (she knew neither one but she wasn't going to tell him that) Adrian Henri published an anthology of modern poetry. Here's one."
Spike, with Winnie cradled in his arms, recited the poem, Love is…
Love is…
Love is feeling cold in the back of vans
Love is a fanclub with only two fans (she nodded)
Love is walking holding paintstained hands
Love is.
Love is fish and chips on winter nights
Love is blankets full of strange delights
Love is when you don't put out the light
Love is
Love is the presents in Christmas shops
Love is when you're feeling Top of the Pops
Love is what happens when the music stops
Love is
Love is white panties lying all forlorn (she giggled)
Love is pink nightdresses still slightly warm
Love is when you have to leave at dawn
Love is
Love is you and love is me (she sighed)
Love is prison and love is free
Love's what's there when you are away from me
Love is…
"I never took you for a poet," she whispered.
Caressing her back, as their naked skin touched he whispered, "There's a lot you don't know about me, my Guinevere."
A few minutes later, he said, "Miss Sunshine, put me to sleep." She stroked his eyebrow with her finger, the way a baby is put to sleep; the gentle strokes sending him to snoozeland. When he woke up hours later, he was ready to face Colin Kelly Murphy. They say Murphy's one of the best bomb-maker around. I'm one of the best bomb diffusion expert alive. Bring it on!
He turned on his CSIS-issued computer and continued to watch credit card purchases, but knowing Murphy he'd be buying them in cash. He was too experienced, too notorious to make such elementary mistake as to buy stuff with credit card. He'd be invisible. But Spike was blessed with friends. He reached out to Geeks United and now his computer was pinging.
Murphy entered Canada via a luxury liner that docked in Vancouver, British Columbia. Andrew, who headed Ports Authority Systems pinged him there, he reported back to Spike, "He's boarding a plane from Vancouver bound for Toronto Domestic Airport." Binary who was in charge of airport security took over from him. She captured a screen grab from security cameras and sent it to Spike.
Murphy hired a car, Luca who was in charge of Road Traffic Authority pinged him. He called the car rental company without delay and requested information for the vehicle's GPS locator. The bomb maker led Spike to his hide-out. Since there was an outstanding "Red Notice", the equivalent of an international arrest warrant on Colin Kelly Murphy, he tipped off CSIS who along with Interpol arrested the bomb-maker. Preemptive strike!
Nevertheless, Spike couldn't ignore the chlorine gas bomb-in-the-making. It's out there! He knew.
He could feel it in his bones!