Robert Ferrigno - Heart of the Assassin

"I already have." Sarah took his hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Sarah led him out of the water garden, down one of the paths and into the rear of the villa, with its vaulted ceilings, marble floors, thick wood and etched glass.

"Nice to know that Legault has no fear of spending other people's money," said Rakkim.

"Hush." Sarah opened the door. "Well?"

Rakkim walked into the solarium. Stared at the clear blue water of the swimming pool.

"Not so bad, is it?" said Sarah, voice echoing. "Took them almost a week just to remove the debris people had thrown in. New filter, new aerator…"

"It's…just like when we were kids." Rakkim looked at her. "It's beautiful. I never expected…" He bent down, put a hand in the water. It was cool. Perfect.

Sarah kicked off her shoes, sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. "This morning Aztlan formally charged the Colonel with murdering their oil minister in Miami."

"I saw the live feed when I went out this morning," said Rakkim. "Thought Argusto was going to have a stroke."

"This is serious, Rikki. The three nations are in a precarious balance."

"Charging the Colonel doesn't even make sense-he's too far north to be worried about Aztlan's territorial ambitions. Besides, the Colonel doesn't have anyone who could pull off an operation like that."

"Aztlan seems to think he managed it." Sarah kicked her feet in the water, making waves. "They're demanding he be extradited to Tenochtitlan for trial."

"The Colonel's as popular as Elvis and he's got over eight thousand armed men backing him up, so I doubt he'll be enjoying that famous Aztlan hospitality anytime soon." Rakkim took off his clothes and dove into the water. He came up in the middle of the pool. "If President Raynaud had a brain he'd tell Aztlan to go fuck themselves-he'd have the whole country behind him. Might even get himself reelected."

Sarah watched him backstroking. "'Go fuck yourself' isn't really a foreign policy. More of a…personal philosophy."

"I should have mentioned that last night at the faculty tea."

"You weren't too miserable, were you?"

"Time of my life. If my life was being stuck in a book." Rakkim beckoned. "Come on in."

Sarah shook her head.

"There are security guards on the access roads-this is as private as it gets. Come on."

Sarah looked around. Slowly unbuttoned her dress.

Rakkim whistled, beat at the water.

"Stop it," said Sarah.

Rakkim didn't.

Sarah finished undressing, neatly folded her clothes on the bench. Looked around again, then walked down the steps into the pool. Breast-stroked toward Rakkim, trying to keep her hair dry. They embraced in the center of the pool, kicking to stay aloft. The afternoon sun turned the water droplets along her ear to gold beads.

"You'll have to thank Legault for me," said Rakkim.

"He wants you in the retrospective too."

"Not a chance."

"Such a shy boy."

Rakkim pressed his erection against her.

"Unhand me, sir," she ordered, her arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close.

"Let's have another baby," Rakkim said softly.

"This isn't…this isn't the right time."

"When is the right time?"

Sarah shook her head.

They drifted apart. Rakkim floated on his back, staring up at the glass ceiling, the clouds floating overhead.

"I'm sorry," said Sarah, "it's just…there's so much going on right now."

"Yeah, I forgot how calm and simple things were when we had Michael."

"Don't be like that."

Rakkim closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of being in the pool again, the feel of the water. So many memories in that house…most of them good. Rakkim couldn't imagine what would have become of him if Redbeard hadn't taken him home that day, made him part of the family. He would have ended up in prison…or maybe working in the Zone, someplace where risk was rewarded, but he wouldn't have ended up here. With Sarah. He owed a lot to Redbeard.

"What are you thinking?" asked Sarah.

Rakkim opened his eyes. "How lucky I am."

"Me too." The birthmark between her breasts was just above the waterline. "Don't be mad at me."

"No…we've got time."

She squeezed out her hair.

"Who was that older man you were talking to at the faculty tea?"

"Karl Hoffman," said Sarah. "Professor Hoffman's one of the world's authorities on the subject of the true cross."

"I bet that's been a real career booster." He saw her expression. "Sorry."

Christians might believe that Jesus died on the cross, but Muslims didn't. The cross was a symbol of rebirth to Christians, but for Muslims it was just the vehicle of Jesus' deception and escape from the Romans. To them, Jesus was a great man, a prophet second in importance only to Muhammad, but he wasn't the Son of God.

"Professor Hoffman is very highly regarded internationally," said Sarah.

"Last night Satrice referred to him as Professor One Note."

Sarah splashed him. "Ask your friends in the Belt what the cross means to them."

"We're not in the Belt."

Sarah swam over to the end of the pool, sat on the steps, drying off in the last of the sun. "It always comes down to that. The Belt and the Republic. Christian and Muslim. We have to get beyond that, Rikki. Look at Spider, as Jewish as Moses, but he's helping me because he knows that reconciliation is best for everyone."

Rakkim strode over to her, sat beside her, feeling her heat. "You want me to go to D.C.? I'll do it. You want me to go to fucking Mars to find the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant or any of that other junk from the Goldberg movies, fine, just say the word."

Sarah smiled. "Mars?"

"Well, maybe not quite that far." He kissed the water off her shoulder. "Just saying, if you want me to see what's really in that safe room…"

"I'll let you know." Sarah shook her hair out. "It's Spielberg, by the way. Goldberg was the political historian, Spielberg was the filmmaker."

Rakkim lightly pinched her nipple and she squealed, pushed him back into the water. He swam back, lay beside her, serious now. "I worry that maybe you're right. That we don't have time."

"For babies?"

"For anything," said Rakkim. "We walk around Seattle and everyone pretends to get along-maybe they avoid eye contact or curse you quietly, but we keep the peace. Even in the conservative districts, no one has been stoned to death in years for adultery or blasphemy. Then you go to New Fallujah…and you see what happens when fundamentalists take over."

"I know."

"You don't know. You might read about it, or see censored images on TV, but it's not the same as being there. I think about what Jenkins told me, all the new Black Robe mosques going up around the country, President Brandt backing down…Senator Chambers set to become secretary of defense. If that happens, ibn-Azziz will be able to do anything he wants. Him and his master, the Old One-"

"You don't know that Chambers is in the pocket of ibn-Azziz."

Rakkim rested his cheek against her belly. "No, but I'm going to find out."

"Redbeard had a technique…what did he call it?" Sarah played with his hair. "The affirmation trap, that was it. Remember?"

Rakkim kissed her belly button. "No."

"I had stolen a bottle from his stash of Coca-Cola and he counted and found out…but he didn't know which one of us was responsible. He confronted us separately. I said I didn't know what he was talking about, but you…you took the blame."

"It was my fault for showing you where he kept them."

"He knew you well enough not to trust your admission of guilt, not when it came to me. So he never disagreed with you, just accepted the truth of what you were saying and took it to its logical conclusion. The simpler the better. In this case, it was just asking for your help in covering up your crime."