The Empire Builder

Mercer Island was extensively developed, but the Loftis house was on a secluded site on the Lake. The house had a high fence preventing entrance from the street and a hedge for privacy. Jason typed in the code to open the electric gate, and they turned into the drive. As they did, two men armed with automatic rifles jumped out from behind the hedge.

Ellie slammed on the brakes and tried to throw the car into reverse, but just as she did, there was the flash of lights, and the wail of sirens four police cars drove past their Ford, and the gunman decided to run.

"Holy shit," Ellie exclaimed.

A big, black SUV pulled up directly behind their small Ford, and Two women dressed entirely in black got out they approached on opposite sides of the Ford. As they did, the uniformed police were jumping out of their patrol cars and chasing down the gunmen.

The woman on the driver's side tapped on Ellie's window.

"FBI," the woman began, "I'm special agent Crawford, and agent Sims and I have a warrant to search this vehicle and its occupants."

With that, Ellie and Jason were removed from their rental. They were patted down for weapons. Agent Sims searched the car and agent Crawford had Ellie and Jason empty the contents of their pockets onto the hood.

Agent Sims recovered an envelope from Jason's luggage. This was apparently what they were looking for.

"Mr. Bishop, would you mind opening this envelope?" Agent Crawford asked.

"Not at all," Jason replied.

Jason unsealed the envelope that seemed to be almost bursting at the seams with something, and he then handed it to agent Crawford without removing the convents. The FBI agents removed what appeared to be a bundle of papers and began inspecting them.

The police had apprehended the two big thugs. Ellie realized that they were the same men she had seen get on the train in Whitefish. They were unceremoniously shoved into the back of separate patrol cars.

Agent Sims walked over to a uniformed officer, and Elie could hear the agent thanking them for their assistance. They shook hands, and Sims came back to speak to agent Crawford who didn't look happy.

"What's going down here?" Ellie whispered to Jason.

He gave her a smile and said, "Looks like the FBI just saved our lives with an assist from the Seattle PD."

"But what's in the envelope?"

"Nothing we need to be afraid of," but as Jason said this, a small man riding an e-bike appeared in the drive.

At the little man's appearance, Jason's whole attitude shifted from confident to worried. The FBI and police paid the new arrival no attention beyond a Police officer walking over to the man to casually ask him his business.

Crawford turned from her discussion with Sims to confront Jason.

"Mr. Bishop, can you explain why you have a deed for a property in Brooklyn and a mortgage for five- hundred-thousand dollars from Anthony Mancuso."

"Well, I suppose that's because Mr. Mancuso, who is a mortgage broker, has sought a small bridge loan from Loftis & Bishop Ltd. It was inconvenient to file those with the virus and all. But as soon as things settle down ..."

Crawford seemed frustrated as she said, "money laundering is a crime. Where is the cash that Mr. Mancuso gave you in Penn Station?"

She had received the tip from the Utica, New York, office, which specialized in organized crime. She was expecting to find an envelope full of unreported cash. Instead, she had a bundle of legal documents that looked otherwise legitimate, but her gut told her they were part of a money-laundering scheme.

"I assure you, Ms. Crawford, that Mr. Mancuso only gave me his mortgage in return for the money he borrowed. I'll produce the bank records if I must, but in the interim, may I have my documents back if you are finished examining them."

A reluctant Crawford handed the papers back. You can't prosecute based on your gut, but at least her raid had nabbed the two Russian hitmen.

A police officer escorted the little man on the bike forward. He whispered something in Agent Crawford's ear, which brought a smile to her face.

The little fellow walked over to Bishop and asked, "Are you Mr. Bishop—Jason Bishop?"

Jason said, "Yes." In a very somber tone.

"You've been served the little man said, producing a large manila envelope from a satchel he carried. Then he walked back to his bike.

Jason slowly opened the envelope as everyone, but the little man watched. Inside was a petition for divorce and a series of court orders freezing his assets and requiring him to stay at least five hundred feet away from his wife and his home in New York.

Little Bob was appointed the temporary trustee of Loftis & Bishop, Ltd. The orders were good until a hearing was possible following the state of emergency.

Bishop's shoulders slumped, but he quickly stood up straight and looked agents Crawford and Sims in the eyes.

"If that's all, may we go now?" Bishop said.

"Yes, but we might come back to speak to you later," Crawford replied.

"If you must, and please extend my thanks to the Seattle police for saving our lives."

With that, Bishop shepherded Ellie into the Ford and drove up the drive to the house.

By the time they reached the end of the driveway, Ellie could see that the FBI and most of the police had left,. Still, one patrol car remained just outside the gate, which had been closed.

Ellie stood before the house. It was set atop a slight hill, which you had to take a stone path to get to. Another path led around the house to a set of stairs. You could see the vast lake beyond the stairs, which must lead down to the lakeshore.

Bishop began walking toward the house. It was very modern and seemed to grow organically out of the hill. It was all metal, glass, and concrete. Still, it was a fine-looking house in a beautiful setting. They walked past flower beds that were blooming but bedraggled as if in need of a gardener's care.

Ellie stopped to look at the view and appreciate the sun that had begun to break through the sky which had remained stubbornly overcast since they had reached the Western side of the mountains. Bishop stopped at the door and waited for her to catch up.

"Welcome to my house," he said. "It may be my only possession when my divorce is over. That is, of course, if I can still afford the taxes."

He opened the door onto a vast interior that had been deceptively hidden by the modest front of the building.

Bishop pulled Ellie to him and lifted her into his arms.

"Thanks to my bitch wife, I can now do this," he said, kissing her and carrying her into the house.

There was a short flight of stairs that went up and one that went down just beyond the entry. He took the stairs that went up, still carrying her, and then turned to his left. They entered a room that had floor to ceiling glass on three sides and at its center a great king size bed. Beyond the glass walls and sliding glass door was a broad deck cantilevered out over the lake.

Bishop carried her to the bed and set her gently down.

"I may be presuming that you still want me after I have lost my wealth."

"Well, it wasn't your money I was after, but your story. However, now I think I've found something more interesting," she said, running her hand over his crotch."

"Well, that will have to wait. It's nearly suppertime, and I haven't eaten."

He unbuttoned her jeans and began to pull them down, but they were too tight. He had to stand by the side of the bed and pull. As her body lifted with the force of his tug, she kicked off her shoes.

He was still fully clothed, but she sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt. She pulled it off him and began planting kisses on his bare chest. He pushed her back and, with one quick grab, divested her of her panties.

Jason fell to his knees and spread her legs. He began licking and kissing from her knee up her thigh. First, the left leg then the right. She sat up enough to remove her shirt and her bra. She let herself slip back down on the bed as he began to circle his tongue around her vulva. Her nipples were hard and erect.

Her hands began to caress her nipples and then pull on them hard as the circles Bishop was making with his tongue got tighter and tighter. She turned her head, and she could see out to where the lake water sparkled beneath the setting sun, and the far shore ran the spectrum from bright green to dark.

She began to moan softly as he moved in on his target, and then he was there. He paused. He was teasing her. She went to reach down and force his head, but before she could, he flicked his tongue across her clit. It had the force of an electric shock. It sent her body into an arch, and before she could come back down, he had sucked her clit between his lips.

She must have let out a sharp cry then because she heard it like a disembodied shriek, but she was already shaking with her orgasm and marveling how fast it had come and how good it felt.

He was on her then. He drove his cock into her with two quick shoves that felt like he would split her in half. She wrapped herself around him as he drove into her. She couldn't seem to form thoughts. She was lost in the intensity of it. She felt her orgasm rise again as if it were happening to someone else. She just wanted to hold him forever to keep him with her.

She must have passed out. She recovered as he came in her and then she must have fallen asleep. In her dreams, a phone was ringing. Not the musical chime of her cell phone, but an old-fashioned phone, ringing and ringing. Someone must have answered because it stopped.

Ellie was exhausted. She had driven all afternoon through the dark Cascades. Mountains arranged in sharp rows like the teeth of a dragon. But something told her she had to get up, "he needs you." It was a voice that came from deep within her.

Ellie fought off the sleep, and suddenly she was awake in a strange room flooded by bright moonlight. It was a huge moon, and the night was strangely quiet. Not silent for there was a steady buzz of sound and the sigh of the lake against the shore, but there was no traffic sound, no engine, no voices. No light beyond the moon and the quiet elegance of the stars, so clear so bright they seemed alive.

Where was he? The side of the bed where he should have been was empty. She went to where the sliding doors gave access to the deck. He was out there sitting in a chair by a small table. He seemed to be gazing purposelessly over the water. She opened the glass silently and stepped onto the deck.

She was naked, but for the puffy pink socks, she had put on yesterday, or was it now the day before. She smiled to think she had worn them through their steamy sex, but they were little help against the chill in the night air.

She walked over to where Jason sat, ungodly still, in one of two Adirondack chairs set to look out over the lake. As she approached, he moved only enough to take a bottle from the table and take a swig before putting it back. Was he drinking because he was having second thoughts about them?

She walked quietly over the deck until she was standing in front of his chair. For a moment, it seemed he didn't see her, and then he opened the terrycloth robe he wore and said, "COME." Naked, she eased onto his lap, burying her head against his chest. He refolded the robe around them. His body felt warm, but she could sense something was wrong.

She lifted her head so she could look at his face, which was eerily lit by the moonlight. His countenance was grim, and she thought, "his eyes look sad." She asked, "Are you thinking about the divorce?" she asked her voice betraying the fear that was rising within her.

"There will be no divorce," he said sternly.

Her heart sank. They hadn't discussed marriage or even being together beyond tonight.

She turned away. She looked up at the moon so high in the sky but seeming so close.

"The moon is so big and bright," she said.

"The Flower Moon," he said.

"Will you go back to her?"

He grabbed her tight. He pulled her to him and planted a gentle kiss on the side of her head, as you might kiss a child. She could feel the damp of his tears on his cheek.

"No, my love," he said. "Elizabeth took sick the night we spent in Whitefish. They hospitalized her as we came through the Rockies, and she died as we exited the Cascades."

She could feel her own tears well up. They were a mixture of grief and joy.

"How do you know?' she asked.

"My lawyer got the news from her law partner about four a.m. our time. He called me first thing on the landline by the bedside."

"I heard it ring..." she sighed.

"You were tired. I let you sleep," he said and reached over to grab the bottle.

He offered her a drink, but she shook her head. It was a fifth of vodka about half gone.

"There were times I wished her dead," he said, his voice trembling into a sob.

"Don't go there," she told him. "She betrayed you. Tried to steal from you. You were angry, that's all."

"Tony offered to kill her. I told him no. But I was tempted."

"You said no because you are a good man. One of the last of a dying breed. It's why," she paused and then, "It's why I love you."

She kissed him then, first on the mouth, and then the eyes, kissing his tears away.

"You know what this means," he said and pressed her even closer as he whispered in her ear. "It means you have to be with me always because I love you."

They stayed there wrapped warmly in each other's love until the night noises gave way to the sweet sounds of the morning. They embraced a new day while the moon faded against the sun's light. As they got up to go in, Ellie paused, looked out over the lake, and whispered to the sun in the East, "Thank you."

The woman she was thanking couldn't hear her, because she was pushing a shopping cart a half of a continent away. But somewhere in heaven, an angel got her wings.

____________

Epilogue

Sergei Petrokof was seated in a charming outdoor café in Stockholm. A city that could be the only genuinely open place remaining in Europe. Sweden had decided to ignore the pandemic and rely not on social distancing or staying home. Here they relied on their general good health, advanced medical services, and generally snotty superiority.

They were ignoring the deadly virus. The death rate was high, but the stubborn Swedes assumed the angel of death would pass quickly. If he didn't, at least he would cure the chronic housing shortage.

The problem was that there was little to do in Stockholm of interest to a Russian degenerate. Sergei would much rather have stayed in New York, but that city was sick, and Sergei held little hope for a quick recovery. Ultimately, he was sure that what he believed was the first city of this modern world would recover, and the properties owned by Loftis & Bishop would soar in value.

He couldn't go home to Moscow yet, not while Bishop lived. He would have more to worry about than a virus that President Putin said wasn't there. No returning to Russia yet, He must wait until he could bring Bishop down. It was merely a matter of finding the right opportunity.

There was a spectacular blonde sitting alone at a nearby table. It was a pleasant spring afternoon, and a slight breeze brought the occasional whiff of her perfume. It was very French and stimulating. She had come with a man, but they had a small verbal fight in what was clearly German, and her escort had abandoned her to her expresso and salad. Sergei decided the fool was not worthy of such a prize and so he made his move.

"Bitte," he began "Sprichst sei Russisch"

She smiled at his poor attempt at German and said, "Nein, but I speak English?"

He returned her smile, and placing his hand on the seat opposite said, "May I? it is so unpleasant to eat alone."

"O-kay, but just essen...eating," she said, waving her finger and giving a cute little pout."

She was eating a little salad, and Sergei ordered a pickled fish and picked at the unpleasant dish in order to enjoy her attractive company and her cute accented English. He missed New York with its fine cuisine, but the women here were amazing.

She was a big girl but thin by American standards. Her long golden hair was up in a large twist held in place by a substantial hairpin like a Japanese Geisha. Her dress was a mixture of the latest European styles, but her blouse was what drew his eyes.

It was off the shoulders and cut low enough to show the beginning of her cleavage, which was prodigious. The puffy sleeves descended to the elbow, hiding her extremely developed biceps from his view. His eyes were wandering between her luscious blue eyes and her delectable tits. Her appearance was marred only slightly by the wedding ring on the fourth finger of her right hand.

"Why would such a lovely woman be eating alone?" he asked.

"You must have seen mein mann. He is angry with me. Jealous."

"Well, can we blame him when you are so," he paused, seemed to stumble for the word, "beautiful!"

She smiled and reached her right hand across the table, so her fingers touched his. He covered her hand and its wedding ring with his. Their eyes met. His were hungry with his desire, fueled by his rising cock. She blushed and went to pull her hand away, but he held it.

"I cannot," she said.

"Why? He left his queen, unguarded. He needs a lesson," Sergei whispered.

She giggled, "are all Russians so wicked."

"No, he shot back. Only the very—good ones."

She leaned forward, her lips almost touching his, "I must use the facilities," she whispered.

She got up and began walking toward the back of the café. Her hips had an exaggerated swing, and as she reached the toilets, she looked back over her shoulder. Sergei followed. There were two unisex rooms. He tried the handle on the one she had entered. It was unlocked. He smiled and slipped in.

"Oh," she said, pretending innocence as he entered.

He pushed her against the wall and pressed a wet kiss on her sexy lips. His hands ran over her tight figure. She didn't resist only saying, "I must not. What will I tell my husband?"

"Lies," he said.

He went to reach between her legs, but she blocked him as her hands went to his belt and skillfully undid his pants. She maneuvered him against the bathroom door and eased his pants down, following them into a squat before him.

She pulled his boxers down and released his stiff manhood. With her index finger, she pulled down on his cock and then released, causing his sex to bounce. She gave a little giggle like a child playing with a toy.

She wasn't playing. She pressed her lips to his flesh. She brushed her lips along the length of his shaft and then slipped him into her mouth. She was good. Oh, so very good. She brought him to the edge but held him back.

He reached down and took her head with his hands. This seemed to send her into a frenzy, and he found himself pumping his seed into her waiting mouth. As he emptied into her, she reached up and pulled the pin from her hair, sending it cascading downward.

She slid up his body as if she meant to kiss him with her cum filled mouth, but at the last minute, she pushed on his chin, exposing his neck, and then she struck. With one swift motion, she drove her hairpin into his neck, up through his chin, past the roof of his mouth, and into his brain.

Sergei Petrokof's death was instantaneous. There was no blood, a minor virtually unnoticeable wound. She took the dead weight of his body and placed him on the toilet with his pants still down. She then washed her pin, fixed her hair, and retouched her makeup. Exiting the restroom, she tripped the lock, so Sergei was locked in.

It was hours before the restaurant noticed the locked door and used a master key to enter. The emergency services were called, and Sergei was taken to the morgue. There didn't seem to be foul play, only an unexpected death.