Fletchina Archer - Psychic Detective

“How do you avoid it?” Ronda asked, her eyebrows arching to emphasize the question.

“I’ve been dealing with an FBI agent who’s been nosing around. As soon as he showed up, I agreed to work with him. I’ve even worn a wire to tape-record some of the stuff my business associates are doing. But I had no idea they had so much spy gear in our offices snooping on us. He must not have believed me. So on the way home, I called and gave him the whole story. I get immunity if I testify against everyone else. Bunch of crooks.”

“What are you talking about?” Ronda’s look of puzzlement became more intense.

“Look, all those trips to Hong Kong, Copenhagen, Tokyo, Beijing, New York… Those were trips for all of us commodity dealers from around the world to get together. To set prices. Bowman, Lyons and Heartland is the eight-hundred-pound gorilla of world commodities, so we told them what the prices would be. They couldn’t argue with us. That’s the way it was. No market. No nothing. We just fixed all the prices of all of our commodities. Soybeans, corn sweeteners, fiber, cooking oil, everything! Everyone else had to follow along or get out of town. Simple as that.”

There was silence except for the clinking ice cubes in Jeff’s glass.

Jeff looked from Ronda to Angela. “That’s against the law. Big time.”

“So you turned them in to the FBI?” Ronda sat stock-still, her face intent.

“I was going to. I was working with the FBI ‘til the agent thought the case was airtight. But then some of our guys got the tech guys in there and they found all kinds of bugs. The corporate brass figured they were FCC bugs and they had the goods on us. But half of them were probably FBI. I’m sure they were checking out my stories. If they’d been tapping our phones, listening in on our conversations, hell, even videotaping us in our offices, they must have the goods on everyone. I guess that was necessary. The FBI couldn’t just believe one guy.”

“So what happens now? Are we going to live in a trailer house again?”

“No. I haven’t fought my way up this high for that. I know it’s been rough on you, honey. I know I’ve neglected you. But you didn’t say anything about it. I thought you were enjoying everything…being rich. See, in my family the guy is supposed to be the big macho hunter and bring back the bacon. That’s the way you show your woman you love her.”

“I’d trade all of this for a trailer court if I could have you. You’re what matters to me.”

“Well, there’s another side to it. It’s fun.”

“As good as sex?” Ronda took a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know. Is Merlot as good as Pinot Noir? Is wine as good as gin? They’re all good, just different. But yes, it’s exciting. Not hard-on exciting like you naked playing with yourself. Or you.” His eyes went to Angela with appreciation. “But exciting like a football game or downhill skiing or rock climbing or something like that. On the edge. You get to a certain place and you want to take it one more step. You don’t think you can fall. But you know you could fall. You know others have fallen. That’s what makes it exciting. The possibility that it’ll all come crashing down around you. And the possibility that you might just pull it off. If you’re smart, when you’re climbing you are sure you can’t fall. You have ropes. That’s what the FBI was. My rope to prevent disaster.”

“But you say that’s what makes it exciting? The possibility that you might fall?” Angela had finished her drink and was sucking the lime.

“Yes. But you don’t want to really fall. You want the excitement, but not the possibility of dying.”

“So you…?” Ronda queried Jeff with her eyebrows.

“First I made sure I had a golden parachute in place. If they terminate me they have to give me severance pay of five million bucks. That took care of being fired. I’d seen enough double crosses.”

“So let the fuckers fire you.” Ronda leaned forward in her chair.

“When they found out the FCC was on to them, they started shredding documents…it was chaos. I got out of there and called my FBI contact. I checked with him. I’ve been cooperating, so I won’t go to trial. And if they terminate me, I get a nice severance package. If they don’t, then…”

“Then what?” asked Angela.

“Then I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. But I’m taking some vacation time right now. I think it’s a good time to disappear for a while so nobody but my FBI pal can find me.”

“Where to?” Ronda asked.

“You know when we were kids I was always talking about a slow boat to China?”

“A Chinese junk?”

“That’s what I had in mind. So I have one stashed in Marseilles. The captain and crew are there. They take it out now and then to keep it in shape, but it’s waiting for just such an occasion.”

“Wow, it must be really nice to be rich.” Angela set her glass on the coffee table and sat on the couch.

“It sure is. Nobody but me knows about it. So it’s okay. The tracks are covered and I have immunity anyway.”

“So…” Ronda raised her eyebrows in question again. “So?”

“So we head for France, get on the junk, and disappear into the ocean for a while. We can come back whenever we want. We’re safe.”

“Will you come with us?” Ronda aimed the question at Angela.

“I think maybe you two need to be alone for a while. You were talking about teaching Jeff some nuances.”

“But I don’t want to be away from you.”

“I have a business to run. I can’t just bail out on my staff and clients.”

“Oh come on! Any one of those five operatives could do it!”

“Operatives?” Jeff showed definite interest.

“It’s just business. My business.” Angela detected Jeff’s curiosity and decided to deflect it. “And there’s my daughter to consider too.”

“You have a daughter?” His tone was incredulous.

“Twenty-two years old.”

“I wouldn’t have thought… A daughter? Twenty-two? How old are you?”

“A gentleman wouldn’t ask that. And my daughter doesn’t come into this story. She has her own life to lead. But I’m part of it.”

“I just didn’t know that women who had had kids could be as tight as…as virgins.”

“Well…” Angela looked at her feet to hide what felt like a blush coming on.

“If you don’t go, I don’t know if I want to. How would you feel about going alone, Jeff? After all that’s where I’ve been for a long time. Alone. Maybe you should try some of that aloneness now.”

“If you didn’t like it, why would I? And believe me, all that jet setting is plenty of aloneness for anyone.”

“Sorry to cut this short, but my phone is vibrating. I really have to go and tend to my business now. I’ll catch you guys later.”

It was a perfect day in the South China Sea. The day was bright without being hot, a breeze was filling the sails of the Chinese junk and keeping the passengers and crew comfortably cool, but not so cool that it was uncomfortable to jump in for a swim or lie on the deck to dry in the sun.

Ronda wore only a sarong, her breasts bare and tan. She lay on the deck, her arms raised overhead, basking in the sun with her bathing suit top down, resting inside out on her sarong.

Barefoot and wearing bathing trunks, Jeff walked silently across the teak deck to sit beside her and gently untie her sarong.

“The crew…”

“The crew is always here. Let them be invisible. We’re invisible to them.” He unwrapped the sarong to expose her firm, long, tan thighs and legs to the sunlight. She reached down and pulled the top of her black one-piece bathing suit over her breasts. The hair of her armpits was silky and long. The hair of her head was long now, coming down to the middle of her back after months of not cutting it.

Now they were both swimming all the time, their bodies were trim and toned. They jumped off the junk and swam whenever the weather was good-which was all the time. Or whenever they felt like it-which was most of the time when they weren’t fucking or otherwise making love. The exercise of fucking and swimming kept both of them slim and he was even more muscular than when he’d been working out in fitness clubs in downtown in Chicago. Her breasts and hips were smaller but firmer than when they’d lived in the Frank Lloyd Wright house. His pecs were surely firmer and his thighs and butt tight.

Ronda shivered as Jeff ran his fingertip along the underside of her arm, stopped to twirl the long silky hairs of her armpit in his fingers, and outlined the underside of her breast through the swimsuit. “You are a beautiful woman. Thanks for letting your hair grow out. All of it.”

He’s finally figuring out how to make love with me. Sometimes I still fantasize about Angela when he goes down on me or when he strokes my clitoris with his finger, but I enjoy his attentions more and more now that he has some time for me and isn’t putting all of it into his corporation.

“Why don’t you take me below and make love with me?”

“Not right now. Much as I’d like to.”

She pouted. “You don’t have any meetings to get to, do you?”

“No, but we have to make a landing soon. I don’t want to be interrupted while we’re making love.”

“Since when do we have to do anything?”

“Well, this is a surprise, humor me. Let’s just say we have to pick up some supplies.”

“What could we need? We still have several months’ supply of fine wines. This junk has to have the best wine cellar in all of Asia. Not to mention fresh fruits and fish.”

“My love, we couldn’t replenish the fruit without stopping all the time.”

“You’re right. But why would it interrupt us. It doesn’t usually.”

“I thought you might want to go ashore.”

“Why, where are we?”

“Coming up on the Parcel Islands. Sand Island to be specific.”