One Rule for the Rich, A Sequel

I got about halfway down when I saw one of the more muscular young men chase Clare across the sand. He caught her, picked her up, and started carrying her off toward one of the changing stations on the far side. She was playfully pounding on his chest, pretending to fight him off. He grabbed the top of her bikini and pulled it down. I watched as they disappeared behind the building. The last thing I saw was her laughing and him mouthing her tits.

I turned back around but Aji wasn't there. I looked up and saw she'd gone back to the main party. I went back and caught up with her. She looked at me and said, "I'm tired and I have a headache. I want to go home."

Going home meant me dropping her off at Brea's, so we said our goodbyes, Aji got several notes from men as we left, and we went to the parking lot where a valet brought our rented Mercedes. I went to get her door, but she pushed me out of the way. I had no idea...

On the way out, about halfway down the drive Aji swung around just about as hard and as fast as she could and corked me a good one right on the chin.

I was stunned. I asked, "What was that for?"

She squatted down in her seat, and looking straight ahead said, "Because you're a loser."

I said, "Jesus."

Angrily she turned around, "You can forget about ever marrying me. I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth. Besides, I have to marry within my faith and you're a Christian."

I was doubly surprised by that. I said, "You think me being a Christian and you being a Muslim would matter that much?" My own statement caused me to lurch. Damn she had me talking about marriage!

She replied, "Any child of mine would be raised in my faith."

I played along, "So we could get married and I could stay a Christian while you raised any kids we had to be Muslim."

"Never," she said.

I yelled, "Why the fuck not?" Then it hit me; we were talking about marriage like it was real! She'd walked me right into it! How could I be more stupid?

She yelled back at me, "What, I'm supposed to tell our kids; their daddy's going to hell because he won't change his faith?"

It was the first time she'd said daddy and not father, then it really dawned on me, we'd been traveling together as companions, not just friends, we'd been a real couple for months, and all that time we'd never even kissed, not privately anyway. Sure we'd danced, we'd held each other in our arms, but nothing other than a little arousal, nothing sexual had happened. That wasn't true, I was aroused all the time, but all I could say was, at that moment I felt very nervous. I pulled the car to the side of the road. I reached over and tried to touch her hair. I needed to touch her, I needed to hold her.

She ferociously pushed my hand away. A wave of passionate energy swept over me. I couldn't explain it, it wasn't sexual, but it was real and it was powerful. I had this overwhelming sense of urgency, like if something didn't happen right then and there it would never happen. I said, "Aji..."

She looked at me; her dark eyes were vivid, coal black, her skin was shimmery with moisture. I knew she felt it too. I said again, "Aji."

With cat-like speed she was across the console and in my lap. Her hands were wrapped around my cheeks, then my shoulders, her voice was deep, low and husky, "Conall, Conall, oh Conall."

We didn't kiss, there was nothing sexy, no caressing, no grabbing or fondling, just two people wrapped in each other's arms, holding on as tightly as they could, desperate, like two people trapped in a whirlpool afraid to let go, afraid if they did they'd both drown. I held her as tightly as I could. I didn't say anything. She felt so warm, so small, so soft, so vulnerable. She started to cry, not loud boo-hooing, just soft sobbing, like the sound someone makes when their mother or their dog just died.

I whispered, "About Clare. I have to know... one more time."

She let go, and just as swiftly climbed back to her side of the car.

I said, "Look, it's important. One more time, one more try," she wouldn't look at me, I added, "I'll change. I'll become a Muslim. Give me one more chance, if I fail I'll do whatever you want." I knew my mother would kill me, but I didn't care, that was another time and another place.

Aji looked over, "We'll talk to Brea. She'll find a way. But just one more time, just one. I can't go through any more of this."

I looked at her. She was certainly beautiful. Most any man would love to have her. I didn't know; did I love her? I knew I was sure fond of her. I believed I could make do with that. I also knew she had a way about her, she had a way that made me feel more like a man than I'd ever felt with anyone else ever before. I wondered if it was her Islamic nature, or was it just her, but I knew she sure was fun to look at, and more, she was a damn delight to have in my arms. When we were together I felt good, happy, but every time I dropped her off at Brea's I felt hollow inside. I'd go back to my flat and think about the next time I'd pick her up. I was lying to myself and I knew it. I said, "OK, we'll go see Brea." How did things get so fucked up?

Neither of us said anything the rest of the way to Brea's. I know I kept glancing over at her. Every now and then I caught her looking at me. She was right; this had to stop, one way or the other this had to stop, we couldn't go on the way we were anymore.

+++

It was another two months before Brea said she'd found the opportunity I was looking for; two months of hell. For two months Aji and I had been thrown together at parties, receptions, private dinners, and daytime visits to countless homes, some were for business, but many were simple social engagements, or groundbreaking activities for future deals.

Aji seemed to grow in beauty with each passing event. She had no money of her own; all her clothing, cosmetic supplies, and pampering came at Brea's expense, and Brea spared nothing. Brea had hired special tutors who'd been tasked with continuing to improve Aja's social and intellectual skills, and it had reached the point where there was nothing, no topic the girl wasn't conversant in, she was becoming the perfect product.

Privately I had to admit whenever we went out Aji garnered more attention than any of the many other women; men crowded around her like moths to a candle. On the one hand it made me proud; it added to my confidence not to mention my sales ability, but on the other hand I was growing increasing jealous of the attention she got, where once she clung to me and guided me away from female suitors, it was more often me diverting or blocking her from male aspirants.

+++

On one occasion we nearly had a catastrophe. We'd been invited to a wedding, and were attending the reception at an old Scottish castle several miles north of Edenborough. The happy bride and groom had been a couple for well over ten years without ever apparently consummating their relationship so this event was particularly well received. There were over a hundred people on hand.

We passed through the crowded hall meeting and sharing the joy of the happy event with everyone we met. I knew several of the couples, but for Aji this was a uniquely difficult experience, since for her, occasions like this one had been rare. That wouldn't have mattered except that there were groups of people who did know her, who knew me, and who also knew of my past experience with David the Russian. Many also knew a little about Aji's Chechen past.

I didn't know it, but spies loosely affiliated with the rebel movement in Chechnya had been closely watching me and my companion for some time, and they'd kept their Caucasian overlords well informed. One of the rebels was Durgali Sadulaev, Aji's older brother, a strict Muslim, and an avowed believer in "honor killings". For Aji and me, though we had no knowledge of it, Durgali's strict faith had led to even further complications. Aji's older brother had assumed the mantle of family leader and arbiter of all that was right and wrong.

Worse, Durgali had taken an interest in the Islamic Caliphate that had emerged in northern Iraq. He'd gone south from his homeland north of the Caucasus with several followers, he'd met the Isis fundamentalist leader Abu_Bakr al-Baghdadi, had sworn his undying loyalty to the Caliphate's cause, and he had fought for several years against American supported Iraqi forces.

Even worse, he'd participated in the invasion of that smallest of minority groups the Yazidi, he'd raped and murdered his way across the region, and had absconded with one of the Yazidi's most prestigious wives, a woman he kept in isolation as his personal mistress. Durgali's concept of good and evil had been forever, and utterly twisted, distorted beyond all recognition.

In short Durgali was a savage brute who was well aware of his younger sister's romantic relationship with a hated American, and he was aware of his sister's obvious public failure to honor even the least of Islam's public precepts pertaining to a woman's modesty. Even worse, as the despised Russians, Syrians, Iranians, and American led Iraqi forces had closed in on the Caliphate's strongholds he'd fled the region with a tiny handful of personal followers. With the "Great Cause" a shambles all Durgali's hate fell on the one person he might be able to reach, his sister. For Durgali to kidnap and kill his sister might be a suicide mission; but he didn't care.

At the very moment Aji and I were celebrating in the great hall of that old Scottish castle Durgali was ensconced in a private room in a small Inn just seven miles away. At the same time his cohorts were busy mingling among the very guests Aji and I were enjoying. Durgali was there because he had a very special plan for his "unfaithful" sister, a plan that involved cruel torture and a very long slow death.

+++

Aji smiled up at me with undisguised affection. She thought, just one more attempt to regain my former wife, and if that failed I'd belong to her forever. I looked down at her, my left hand lightly touched the back of her neck sending chills up and down her spine.

We'd been talking more, and I felt like I'd really gotten inside her head. She thought, no she was sure she loved me; maybe she said, once when I got past my foolish notions regarding my ex-wife she'd bring up her marital demands in a new way; that maybe I wouldn't absolutely have to convert to Islam and together we might teach our future children about "my" Jesus and "her" Muhammad. Yes, I believed she'd come to see the differences between my Christianity and her Islam weren't that great, and together we could teach our children the meaning of tolerance. I felt like together we'd come a long way.

Just at that moment Aji glanced across the room and espied someone she was sure shouldn't be there. She knew her brother was on the loose, and she knew on sight a few of his companions. "Conall,' she whispered, "Don't be obvious but look to your right; there's man standing there."

I put my cup of punch down and turned around. The room was crowded. I couldn't be certain, "The swarthy one with the thin beard?"

"He used to travel with my brother," Aji replied.

"You think?"

"I'm afraid Conall. Security's lax here, and my brother's been gone missing for several weeks."

I took her hand, "Come with me," we walked to a nearby plain clothed security officer.

Aji spoke, "There are terrorists here."

The security man looked surprised as he reached for his cell phone, "Can you point anyone out?"

Aji turned and pointed in the direction of the man she'd recognized, he was still there, and he was looking right at her! "Him," she said.

"Got it," replied the security agent. He spoke into his phone, "We've got an outsider, a dark complexioned man wearing a white shirt and black slacks. Aji, the security agent and I watched as the young man realized he was spotted.

The agent said, "He's headed around the southwest buffet table. He's coming toward me."

Fifteen feet from where Aji, the agent, and I were standing the young man stopped. He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a tiny pistol. He shouted, "Praise Allah and death to the whore!" He fired at us, point blank.

Never a great athlete, a little soccer and lacrosse was all, I yanked Aji hard toward the ground as I jumped in front of the speeding bullet. I felt a hot searing pain as the bullet lodged deeply in my left shoulder. As I fell I managed to see two other agents catch and grapple the terrorist to the floor.

Aji was down on her knees cupping my head, "Oh God! Oh God! Someone get help. My husband's been shot!"

Out of nowhere some woman emerged, "Out of my way. I'm a doctor! Let me look at him."

Within minutes an ambulance arrived. A path was cleared, I was rushed out of the party, into the ambulance, and off to the nearby clinic. I was awake and aware the whole time.

Aji was hysterical. She kept crying and screaming, "You've got to save him. He's the father of my children! Please, he's bleeding! Save him, oh God please save him!"

I tried to calm her down, "Quiet down girl. It's not that bad. Come on, you're causing a big scene."

She climbed in the ambulance with me, holding my head, crying and pleading with God and the ambulance driver, begging God to save me, entreating the ambulance driver to hurry up. She cried out both to Muhammad and to Jesus.

At the hospital they got the bullet out. It had been a low caliber pistol and an erratic shot. The bullet had hit a shoulder bone and stopped. The doctors said I'd be all right with a heavy dose of antibiotics, time, rest, and a little therapy. I wasn't so sure of Aji; I heard her in the hallway crying and hysterically yelling at all the medical personnel, but as she wasn't really my wife they wouldn't let her in to see me. I finally persuaded them to let her in.

Face wet with tears, blouse covered in water, presumably tears, and blood, she was inconsolable, "It's my fault! This is my fault! It's my brother, he hates me so much. Oh, what if you'd been killed. I don't know what I'd do."

I wasn't able to reach her and hold her, but I managed to get in a few words, "Look, shut up. Your brother can't be too far off, they'll get him, and it'll all be all right."

She sobbed, "You think so?"

There she was, this hard assed take no prisoners Muslim woman crying and sobbing like a little girl, what a difference, I tried to laugh when I said, "Yeah, don't you worry. They'll get him and we'll be safe"

They didn't get him. He got away, but they had the gunman, and they nabbed another outside the Inn where Durgali had been hiding.

We were interviewed a few days later by members of British S.I.S., a C.I.A. agent was also on hand. They told us very little except they'd caught her brother while trying to escape from England to France, and that he was an important target. To my surprise her brother asked that Aji go to court and try to get him released on bail, but the Crown Prosecutor in the district where he was being held wouldn't allow it.

I never thought much about our intelligence agencies before Scotland, but afterwards my esteem for those people sky rocketed. I recalled reading about Ignatius Loyola and the "Society of Jesus" in high school, "God's Shock Troops" they called them. They were men and women above reproach, dedicated, honest, and incorruptible. I guessed our secret service and F.B.I. were like that, above reproach, honest and one hundred percent loyal. I was proud of them. I knew I was glad they were on our side.

About Aji, she surprised me; she felt she should try to do something for her brother. I asked her if she was crazy; her brother wanted to kill her. She dropped the subject after that. Whatever they did with the other two they caught neither I nor Aji cared, but once I was up and about I decided to secure gun permits and training schedules for myself and Aji. What happened when I tried that came as a shock.

Being from the United States obtaining a pistol was like buying fudge at a chocolate shop; lay down the money and select the firearm. Such was not the case in England, try as I might when it came to getting a weapon it was, "sorry, no can do."

I was so upset my anxiety even spilled over to Brea. Was I stupid or what? Two days after I vented my anger Brea appeared with two pistols, a great big Smith & Wesson for me and a pretty little Berretta for Aji. She'd even arranged for lessons. .

I guessed the biggest take-aways from the Scottish incident, other than our being aware of her brother, was that I sort of knew I'd never be able reclaim and remarry Clare. I still wasn't ready to admit I loved Aji, but I did have to admit she'd gotten under my skin. Another thing, before Scotland Aji was almost arrogant in her independence, after Scotland she was more wary, not fearful, just much more cautious, and more watchful regarding me. Just the same I held the course; whether I married Aji or not I still knew I had to get Clare away from David.

+++++

A couple months after Scotland Brea met with me and Aji; she'd found an event where I might get close to Clare. Someone was throwing one of those outdoor receptions, this time it was at some yacht club for some elderly woman who'd won some award for something or other. I couldn't tell exactly where it was, someplace either in or near Le Havre. The place had a big swimming pool, not much grass, but there was a beach nearby. Inside the food was pretty good, but otherwise the place didn't impress me.

Clare never showed up, and that was a concern, but another even bigger concern was raising its disquieting head. Aji had started to openly refer to me as her husband, and worse, when we danced, when we sat at table, and when we traveled among other guests she made a conscientious effort at making very open intimate displays of affection. Having to sit beside her at table with her in such close proximity, with the allure of her perfume, the sweet fragrance of her redolent breath, plus the overwhelming appeal of her natural warmth had been having a nerve wracking effect for a long time, but now to have her hand on my thigh, her fingers lightly caressing my privates from under the table, her discreet opening of my zipper for a closer touch was more than a man could stand. In fact it was close to catastrophic for I knew what she was doing.

There's nothing more enervating than to have someone you cared about openly fondling the back of your neck with one hand, while having her second hand inside your pants titillating your glans. I'd been circumcised so that made it all the worse, and then to have to brusquely stand up when she insisted on a dancing when the music started. I'm sure every man who ever attended public school can remember their eighth grade math teacher, usually a woman, insisting they go to the board to work a problem at just the most imprudent moment. Yes, Aji was becoming a villainous bitch, and for me, I was loving every minute of it.

A couple days before the Le Havre event Brea sat me down; she had a few things she wanted to tell me. First, there was something I absolutely didn't know; Clare and I had been apart for almost four years, and in that time she'd had a baby, the kid was at least three, but he was a sickly kid, some kind of incurable disease that required some kind of transplant plus chemotherapy. I couldn't think of anything else, I figured it had to be Leukemia, but when I asked, Brea got real tight lipped.

Brea also warned me that Clare had changed a great deal, but I remembered seeing her some months before and I sort of knew she'd pretty much dropped off everyone's "respectable" list. If I had it right she'd become pretty much degraded, just another one of the "bunnies" who provided the desired eye candy at social events for the very rich, something like the background noise they used to play at dentists' offices. I was prepared for that.