This is a relatively short chapter by my standards-the first part of chapter 7 in the book.
Thank you for your support but you know... we, writers, are greedy creatures. The world is not enough and we create worlds of our own. So keep the messages and the reviews coming. Writing is a lonely craft as it is.
A reviewer last week asked, so I should say that Kepler's Web is not available only on Amazon. It's available on pretty much all the basic publishing platforms out there (Kobo, Apple Books, Barnes and Noble, Scribd and via Overdrive and Bibliotheca.) Daae00, thank you for asking! As I thank TOWDNWTBN and Vale for being there for me when it counts.
Have no worries though, this story will be posted here (that is if the site is working and people manage to read it) till its completion and then I'll withdraw it.
Happy reading!
"I hardly recognize you anymore. What has that woman done to you?"
Kepler slid his chair away from the monitors and took a good look at Rebecca. Christine called her the "Bond Girl" —something related to her Bond street clothes. At first he'd thought it was because she looked like a James Bond girl. Truth be told, Rebecca in her mid-thirties was sexier than any Bond girl—and he had seen all the Bond movies. Rebecca was the superlative of sexy.
He watched her lean against the wall, hardly touching it with her shoulder in a casual posture that complimented her curves, but Kepler knew better than that. Nothing on Rebecca was casual. Every time she crossed her legs, every time she ran her manicured fingers over her perfectly arched brow in a gesture of worry or contemplation, every little move she made was deliberate, a premeditated act that had gradually become second nature. Rebecca had come full circle. From a girl used for sex to a woman using sex. Not bad. Kepler had a deep appreciation for strong survivor instincts. He also knew it was just a façade.
"I don't know what you mean. I invited Christine to Taylor's party and thought you should know. It's no big deal."
"I bet you were thinking of Taylor—" Rebecca's acid tone had the femme fatale trademark all over it. Sometimes, he missed the old Becca.
"I doubt Taylor will care. It's just a good opportunity to connect Christine's latest visits to OKTO to you or someone else rather than myself. In case anyone's trailing it."
"And her presence at the party won't connect her to you?"
"It's not as if I'll be escorting her. She may bring anyone she likes." He only wished she didn't.
"Don't insult me like that. Normally, you'd be looking for Spencer right now, and all you do is babysit Dr. Goodman."
"For your information, I spoke with Spencer and he's fine, considering the circumstances—"
"Where is he? Is he safe?"
"He didn't tell me but I located him. He's somewhere in Canada."
"Just the fact you located him shows the state he's in—"
"You underestimate my skills. I didn't say it was easy. I just said I did. Locate him."
Rebecca lit a cigarette. The silver lighter kept disappearing between her fingers. Kepler, who never allowed smoking in that room, said nothing this time. He still very vividly remembered Becca blowing thick smoke rings, sending them sailing across the room with a satisfied smile on her face. Sometimes, she pointed them at him. As a man who had been chased by Becca's smoke rings, he found it hard to forbid her anything.
"I believe you should sleep with her. Sleep with her and get her out of your system."
"Sleep with her?" asked Kepler, amusement lacing his voice. "With this?" He pointed at his mask.
"It hasn't stopped you before. It didn't stop you with me." She arched a perfect feminine brow.
"Ancient history. Not that any of us has forgotten how that ended."
She squeezed her cigarette into a half-empty soda can and strolled towards him, taking uninterested glances at the monitors all around them. Her nails were Coca-Cola red.
"After a while, you didn't need this." She was right. Sheer ugliness was easier to swallow after a dozen orgasms. "You don't need this." She stroked the straps of the mask. Kepler didn't move. Rebecca knew better than to try anything funny.
"The mere fact I've seen you naked doesn't mean you should get rid of your clothes every time you enter the room."
She smiled at him—one of her trademark "I-surrender" smiles that meant the exact opposite. She stood behind him. Her hands massaged his shoulders. It was a no-nonsense, strictly friendly massage and Kepler allowed himself to sigh as his muscles relaxed under her touch. Becca was so much better when she left her "sensual armor" aside. If only she wasn't so self-conscious. But who was he to talk?
"You are so tensed. And this horrid chair. I know what we'll get you with Taylor for your birthday. Taylor showed me a state-of-the-art high back chair with memory foam padding on a website. Don't tell her I told you—"
"Only you don't know when my birthday is—"
The massage abruptly stopped. "Get serious, Kepler. We have plans—"
"What if my plans changed? What if I changed them?" He turned in the chair to look straight at her beautiful cat like eyes. Her makeup enhanced them but Kepler knew she had the real thing.
"You are not alone in this. You're dragging a bunch of people with you." She was the no b.s. Becca again.
"I twisted no one's arm, Becca."
"They're risking their lives."
"I've risked my life, too. When did I give up control over my life and I didn't know it?" He wasn't angry. He just wanted to be crystal clear to everyone involved. He knew Rebecca would pass on the message. Kepler wheeled the chair back in front of the monitor and scrolled the mouse across the screen. The screensaver disappeared. She was by the door.
"Do you believe in fate, Becca?" His fingers paused in midair just over the keyboard.
"I'm not sure. I think I don't," she offered after a while.
"That's a relief. I don't believe in fate either." He started typing. "I appreciate having many options."
JC entered Kepler's office carrying her backpack. It was like leaving home for her first day at school and she was very much aware of the ridiculousness of the feeling. Kepler was looking out of the window holding his gloved hands behind his back, one cradled in the other in a posture of barely restrained impatience and anticipation. She bet he had tons of work waiting for him.
"I'm leaving," she foolishly stated the obvious. "Just passed by to say 'hi'—"
He turned to her and she imagined him smiling even though his eyes were serious.
"Will you be all right?" He had covered the distance. He smelled of soap. "You don't have to go. You can call in sick—" Her backpack was magically over his shoulder. If another man did that she would most probably consider him sexist—was the weight too much for her to handle? Yet, those little gestures…it was the little things he did for her she found so warming. The little gestures she accepted without question that showed her she'd accepted him like no other man in her life.
"I have to go. It's not as if you'd take the day off—" Where did that come from? Why should he take the day off? Her 'crazy woman' alert started ringing and her face grew hot with embarrassment. Her mind sought ways out…. She meant that her work was equally important to his. Right?
"I can't. I wish I could." He sounded honest. At least he made her sound less like a crazy woman living in her fantasies.
"I don't want this Radek to drive me to work—" It wasn't whining. She had met Olek Alionin in OKTO's kitchen and the thirty seconds she waited for her espresso to brew were the longest of her life.
"You're doing him a favor. He's new in London and he's rather shy. He doesn't speak English but he understands the basics. That way, he won't burden his brother anymore. He'll make some money and have a car at the same time. Today, Radek is a happy man."
"I can help him with his English," JC offered as her way to pay Radek for his lost hours.
"You may try. I think he's shy about his accent." If JC remembered the three words she had heard Olek speak correctly, there was a heavy Eastern-European accent.
"I can't have the poor man waiting for me for hours outside BDS. He'll do more harm than good, Kepler. He'll draw suspicion."
"This is his phone number." He handed her a card with Alionin's name and number. "He already has yours in case of emergency. Send him a blank message fifteen minutes before you leave and he'll be there."
JC ran a hand through her hair. "Are you sure this is necessary?"
"It may not be for long. Until we get our arson specialist's report. And if you don't like Radek, just say the word and I'll get someone else." JC frowned at this. What were the odds of pushing a man straight into unemployment? And what could there be about this Radek that she might not like?
"And I'll be safe with him?" The question included all her questions. And her hesitations. And doubts.
"Radek takes orders only from me and I'll be the only one to know your whereabouts. That was the point of all this in the first place. He won't let anyone harm you and in case of emergency he'll take you to a safe place no one else knows. No one in OKTO except me."
"You are not making this any better, Kepler," she warned him.
"Okay, let me rephrase: Radek knows what to do, he has specific instructions and he won't reveal where you are or your schedule to anyone. Not even his brother. You'll be safe with him. If the 'bad guys' reach you two, that means that they have gotten to me first and I've sent them instructions, maybe drawn them a map. How possible does that sound?" His eyes were smiling.
"Highly impossible." She smiled back.
"Exactly."
A new chapter is coming this Thursday! And don't forget: review!