Chapter 39
Six Days, Three Hours, Six Minutes
Hunched over her laptop, Lisa plunked away quickly and happily at the black keys, surfing and extracting the information appearing in front of her at an amazing speed. She watched the cascading images of information about everything that DeMarco had asked for, had demanded.
"Well, well, well, Rick, I'm sorry to say that there isn't much in cyberspace that's going to make you happy," she finally admitted, "unless you're looking for pornography ... but something tells me you're not the type who needs to cherish his women in the digital domain."
Ignoring her obvious romantic advance, he replied, "Explain, if you please: what do you mean by 'not much'?"
"Darlington Industries," she said. "I'm pulling up absolutely zero here, Rick. Don't get me wrong about the value of the Information Superhighway. Cyberspace is pure juicy. Normally, it's full of bits and pieces and fragments and files of information, but I'm coming up completely dry on Darlington Industries."
"How is that possible?"
"It's very possible ... if it doesn't exist."
Standing behind her, he stared down at the colorful screen. "What does that mean, Lisa?"
The young woman shrugged. "It could mean any number of things to any number of people," she explained, "but it only means one thing to little ole me." She keyed up another search on Google, trying several variations to the spelling of the word 'Darlington,' but she only met dead ends. "Rather than give you my personal opinion, let me lay out a few variables for you ... and then I'll tell you what I think." Again, she tried another spelling on the name, but, still, she found nothing. "Darlington could be listed under a different name for security purposes. What with the state of the world today – terrorism, industrial espionage, and all – the name could be nothing more than a ruse. Or, depending on how wild you like your imagination to be, Darlington could be nothing more than a subsidiary of a much larger animal, leaving its existence known only to those very few people who do business with it. Or, if you're willing to accept the most extreme set of possibilities, Darlington could be little more than a front."
"A front?"
"Yes," she said, slowly turning around in her chair to stare up at the intoxicating foreigner. As she whirled, she smiled sexily, and she trusted that he felt the same chemical attraction – the same animal desire – that was warming her stomach. "Darlington could be the name of a covert government operation, something that isn't – in fact – a business but rather an operation."
"Might I guess that that is your personal opinion?"
"It isn't only my personal opinion," she teased, studying the depth of his eyes, "it's my professional one." She smiled. "You've been stood up, Rick ... but that doesn't mean you have to miss the prom."
Staring down at the younger woman, he studied her hungry eyes. There was no doubt: she was coming on to him sexually, but DeMarco knew that he couldn't violate Matthew's trust ... yet. He couldn't compromise the situation, the friendships he had worked so hard and so long to cultivate, to put him in the unique position to extract his revenge on those less deserving. Matthew was a necessary component to a larger plan, and losing control of those pieces – at the cost of exploring forbidden lust – would force DeMarco into losing sight of the entire puzzle. Still, when she smiled at him, he couldn't help but enjoy an immeasurable surge of pure sexual energy. He wanted her, despite his best instincts. She wanted him, despite strict instructions from her brother.
Could DeMarco control himself?
Was ignoring the pleasures of her American flesh worth the sacrifice?
Forcing the thoughts of sin from his mind, he asked, "Tell me more about what you think, Lisa."
"About Darlington," she tried, "or about us?"
"Darlington," he answered. "For now."
She bit her lower lip. "That isn't much of a challenge, Rick, and, in case you've missed it, I enjoy challenges." Blinking, she grew serious. "Let's take a moment to forget what we don't know, and let's take a good look at what we do." She held up a finger. "Darlington Industries has no listing to do business in the United States so far as we've been able to determine through publicly accessible web sites that would normally catalogue every company, corporation, or other business entity." She raised a second finger. "So far as you've been able to explain, Darlington Industries operates out of the subterranean levels of a Washington hotel that caters to very exclusive clientele. That's not exactly a high profile location. As a matter of fact, it begs of secrecy. Of course, space is at a premium in the nation's capital, and I would be hard-pressed – despite investing the time in another domain search – to locate a building in the greater D.C. area willing to surrender more than a single level of business space to what I would presume to be a fictitious company." Still, she showed another finger. "This senator of yours – Pendley – appears to maintain some kind of open affiliation to Darlington Industries. From what you've said, Pendley serves on Senate committees devoted to intelligence. Also, you said he maintains some active relationships with high-ranking personnel within the National Security Agency ... an organization not to be taken lightly." Finished, she lowered her hand not to her own lap but, instead, gripped it to DeMarco's thigh. "Do the math. I think it's very clear that what you're dealing with is not an organization sanctioned to do business within the borders of the United States."
"So?"
"So they're obviously a front."
"For?"
She shook her head. "Unless a bluebird comes and whispers it in your ear, there's just no way to know," she explained. "My guess would be government. Given their location, it would make perfect sense. As my daddy used to say, you don't run the plumbing to the bathroom for nothing." She shrugged, squeezing her grip on his leg a bit tighter. "Assuming you've told me everything that you do know – which is very little, Rick – we'd best start looking for one willing stool pidgeon"
He crossed his arms. "Speculate."
"Speculate?" she asked. "Rick, that's all I've been doing ... or has your mind been on something else?"
To his surprise, she tightened her grip on his thigh even more.
Smiling back at her, he reached down and pried her hand loose.
"Don't be that way, sweetheart," she warned.
"I have given my word to your brother."
"Matthew isn't my father."
"He is my friend. I trust him. I think you should, too."
"Matthew doesn't watch over me twenty-four hours a day."
"Lisa, a man's word – my word – is all I have to share."
"I'd be willing to wager that – if you entertain the idea long enough – you can think of something else you might have to share."
He chuckled. "You, my young lady, are a very naughty girl."
Mocking, she placed a hand on her chest. "My good sir, I was raised to be a cultured Southern lady. I take offense to your insinuation."
"I believe you do."
The curtain behind them rustled, and Matthew entered the antechamber. He walked over to where they were, pointing at the laptop.
"What do you have, little sister?"
Twirling her chair back to the monitor, she explained, "I have enough information to starve a thimble, big brother."
"Is that so?" Reaching up, he patted DeMarco firmly on the shoulder. "That's not going to keep our friend happy for very long ... and Rick is not a patient man."
"I've been patient for far too long, Matthew," the man agreed.
"What can we do?" the Southerner asked. "You give the word, Rick. We're here to do whatever it is you need ... and you know how far I'm willing to go to keep you happy. You're like family to me, and I won't have you come to our town only to leave disappointed."
DeMarco glanced over Lisa's shoulder down at the computer screen. In silence, she was conducting another search through a government database, but, from where he stood, he could see that she was growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of substantial information.
"Matthew, we will do what men of our background do when we're hungry for sport," he said. "We will go hunting."
End of Chapter 39
Six Days, Three Hours, Six Minutes
Hunched over her laptop, Lisa plunked away quickly and happily at the black keys, surfing and extracting the information appearing in front of her at an amazing speed. She watched the cascading images of information about everything that DeMarco had asked for, had demanded.
"Well, well, well, Rick, I'm sorry to say that there isn't much in cyberspace that's going to make you happy," she finally admitted, "unless you're looking for pornography ... but something tells me you're not the type who needs to cherish his women in the digital domain."
Ignoring her obvious romantic advance, he replied, "Explain, if you please: what do you mean by 'not much'?"
"Darlington Industries," she said. "I'm pulling up absolutely zero here, Rick. Don't get me wrong about the value of the Information Superhighway. Cyberspace is pure juicy. Normally, it's full of bits and pieces and fragments and files of information, but I'm coming up completely dry on Darlington Industries."
"How is that possible?"
"It's very possible ... if it doesn't exist."
Standing behind her, he stared down at the colorful screen. "What does that mean, Lisa?"
The young woman shrugged. "It could mean any number of things to any number of people," she explained, "but it only means one thing to little ole me." She keyed up another search on Google, trying several variations to the spelling of the word 'Darlington,' but she only met dead ends. "Rather than give you my personal opinion, let me lay out a few variables for you ... and then I'll tell you what I think." Again, she tried another spelling on the name, but, still, she found nothing. "Darlington could be listed under a different name for security purposes. What with the state of the world today – terrorism, industrial espionage, and all – the name could be nothing more than a ruse. Or, depending on how wild you like your imagination to be, Darlington could be nothing more than a subsidiary of a much larger animal, leaving its existence known only to those very few people who do business with it. Or, if you're willing to accept the most extreme set of possibilities, Darlington could be little more than a front."
"A front?"
"Yes," she said, slowly turning around in her chair to stare up at the intoxicating foreigner. As she whirled, she smiled sexily, and she trusted that he felt the same chemical attraction – the same animal desire – that was warming her stomach. "Darlington could be the name of a covert government operation, something that isn't – in fact – a business but rather an operation."
"Might I guess that that is your personal opinion?"
"It isn't only my personal opinion," she teased, studying the depth of his eyes, "it's my professional one." She smiled. "You've been stood up, Rick ... but that doesn't mean you have to miss the prom."
Staring down at the younger woman, he studied her hungry eyes. There was no doubt: she was coming on to him sexually, but DeMarco knew that he couldn't violate Matthew's trust ... yet. He couldn't compromise the situation, the friendships he had worked so hard and so long to cultivate, to put him in the unique position to extract his revenge on those less deserving. Matthew was a necessary component to a larger plan, and losing control of those pieces – at the cost of exploring forbidden lust – would force DeMarco into losing sight of the entire puzzle. Still, when she smiled at him, he couldn't help but enjoy an immeasurable surge of pure sexual energy. He wanted her, despite his best instincts. She wanted him, despite strict instructions from her brother.
Could DeMarco control himself?
Was ignoring the pleasures of her American flesh worth the sacrifice?
Forcing the thoughts of sin from his mind, he asked, "Tell me more about what you think, Lisa."
"About Darlington," she tried, "or about us?"
"Darlington," he answered. "For now."
She bit her lower lip. "That isn't much of a challenge, Rick, and, in case you've missed it, I enjoy challenges." Blinking, she grew serious. "Let's take a moment to forget what we don't know, and let's take a good look at what we do." She held up a finger. "Darlington Industries has no listing to do business in the United States so far as we've been able to determine through publicly accessible web sites that would normally catalogue every company, corporation, or other business entity." She raised a second finger. "So far as you've been able to explain, Darlington Industries operates out of the subterranean levels of a Washington hotel that caters to very exclusive clientele. That's not exactly a high profile location. As a matter of fact, it begs of secrecy. Of course, space is at a premium in the nation's capital, and I would be hard-pressed – despite investing the time in another domain search – to locate a building in the greater D.C. area willing to surrender more than a single level of business space to what I would presume to be a fictitious company." Still, she showed another finger. "This senator of yours – Pendley – appears to maintain some kind of open affiliation to Darlington Industries. From what you've said, Pendley serves on Senate committees devoted to intelligence. Also, you said he maintains some active relationships with high-ranking personnel within the National Security Agency ... an organization not to be taken lightly." Finished, she lowered her hand not to her own lap but, instead, gripped it to DeMarco's thigh. "Do the math. I think it's very clear that what you're dealing with is not an organization sanctioned to do business within the borders of the United States."
"So?"
"So they're obviously a front."
"For?"
She shook her head. "Unless a bluebird comes and whispers it in your ear, there's just no way to know," she explained. "My guess would be government. Given their location, it would make perfect sense. As my daddy used to say, you don't run the plumbing to the bathroom for nothing." She shrugged, squeezing her grip on his leg a bit tighter. "Assuming you've told me everything that you do know – which is very little, Rick – we'd best start looking for one willing stool pidgeon"
He crossed his arms. "Speculate."
"Speculate?" she asked. "Rick, that's all I've been doing ... or has your mind been on something else?"
To his surprise, she tightened her grip on his thigh even more.
Smiling back at her, he reached down and pried her hand loose.
"Don't be that way, sweetheart," she warned.
"I have given my word to your brother."
"Matthew isn't my father."
"He is my friend. I trust him. I think you should, too."
"Matthew doesn't watch over me twenty-four hours a day."
"Lisa, a man's word – my word – is all I have to share."
"I'd be willing to wager that – if you entertain the idea long enough – you can think of something else you might have to share."
He chuckled. "You, my young lady, are a very naughty girl."
Mocking, she placed a hand on her chest. "My good sir, I was raised to be a cultured Southern lady. I take offense to your insinuation."
"I believe you do."
The curtain behind them rustled, and Matthew entered the antechamber. He walked over to where they were, pointing at the laptop.
"What do you have, little sister?"
Twirling her chair back to the monitor, she explained, "I have enough information to starve a thimble, big brother."
"Is that so?" Reaching up, he patted DeMarco firmly on the shoulder. "That's not going to keep our friend happy for very long ... and Rick is not a patient man."
"I've been patient for far too long, Matthew," the man agreed.
"What can we do?" the Southerner asked. "You give the word, Rick. We're here to do whatever it is you need ... and you know how far I'm willing to go to keep you happy. You're like family to me, and I won't have you come to our town only to leave disappointed."
DeMarco glanced over Lisa's shoulder down at the computer screen. In silence, she was conducting another search through a government database, but, from where he stood, he could see that she was growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of substantial information.
"Matthew, we will do what men of our background do when we're hungry for sport," he said. "We will go hunting."
End of Chapter 39