This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.
Unfortunately no politicians or lawyers were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie.
I will always welcome contact.
AUTHOR'S HEALTH WARNING
Dear Reader,
Life can be a crock sometimes, so if it all right with you, I actually prefer happy endings. So, if you want the hero(ine) to have a really miserable time, READ SOMETHING ELSE.
But if you want to see good prevail, and end up with a soppy smile, then I have achieved what I set out to do.
Please enjoy.
Tanya
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The legal stuff.
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
Monique
by Tayna J
Parts 13 - 15
Part 13.
On the third day, I was a little more animated, and Chris visited.
"Where is Vine?" I asked, almost immediately. He laughed.
"Safe!"
"Seriously, where is the bastard?"
"Stateside!"
"And Aziz?"
He shrugged.
"We got all his men, but he slipped the net. Over 100 people have been arrested in the USA, and twelve in the UK. We have seized assets worth nearly a billion dollars, and broken his organisation."
"We still need to catch him." I said.
He smiled and nodded.
"We were tracking the paper, but last night it stopped transmitting."
"Oh, does that mean he found it?"
"Not necessarily, he probably burned the lot. But, Monique, I need to ask you a serious question."
"Go on?"
"You stated you would be willing to work for us. Is that offer still on the table?"
"Would I be any use?"
He just looked at me.
"Have you any idea what you achieved, virtually alone and without training?"
I shook my head.
"Take it from me, we can use you."
"That would suit me."
He opened his briefcase, and passed over a document.
"This is an employment contract. Sign this, and your soul belongs to Uncle Sam."
I started to read it, and gave up.
"How long for?"
"Minimum of five years, maximum at age sixty-five. A get out clause with mutual agreement. But you can't discuss your work with anyone until you die." he said, with a little smile.
I signed.
"Okay, Monique. You will have to go on an induction training course at Langley. I want you on my team, and as from three days ago, you have been on a salary
He passed over a laminated ID card, with one of my Woolworth's photos. I was now a CIA employee. It was dated four days ago.
"This way we can take all the credit." he said.
"I don't care. What will happen to Vine?"
"I guess he will be staying at Langley for a while, and I suppose we will turn him over to the British authorities. He did murder your father."
"Has he admitted it?"
"No."
"Then I can't give evidence, not now. Can we seize his assets, his house and stuff?"
"Sure, we have enough to prove the corruption charges." he said.
"Then give that to the British. They will seize his assets, and then we can pressurise him to confess."
"You are a vindictive little girl, aren't you?"
"He screwed up my life."
"You could argue that he pushed you to be who you are now?"
I thought about it, and smiled.
"Maybe, but I was still scared shitless."
"When you are better, and come Stateside for training, I'll take you to Langley, and you can see him, if you want?"
"Yes, I do want."
"You leave your gun outside."
"Aw! Spoilsport!"
"I know you."
He looked at me.
"What?" I asked.
"I have just completed a full report on this matter. I have been cooperating with the Swiss Police, and have full access to their files. They are now more or less aware of the whole story, and have detained half a dozen corrupt financiers and bankers."
"So?"
"They showed me the photographs of the two Arabs in the apartment block."
"Oh!"
"The police told me that whoever did the kills was a professional, and that the murder weapon would never be found."
I smiled.
"Well?" he said.
"I dropped it in the river just after I did it."
He nodded.
"As they said, professional."
"Your point?" I asked.
"Look in a mirror." he said, and stood up. "You look like butter wouldn't melt. All you have to do is smile and flutter your eyelashes, and there isn't anyone alive who could believe you capable of dong some of the things you have done."
I smiled.
"See? I look forward to working with you, Monique."
"Me too. Thanks Chris, for everything."
He bent down and kissed my cheek.
"Hell, kid, if I were twenty years younger."
I laughed and he left me alone.
Two weeks later, I was discharged. It was still August, yet it felt like a lifetime. Alex and Alison were waiting for me. Alison had been summoned back to face an enquiry into her conduct, despite a glowing report by the American State department and the Swiss Police. She was resigned to her fate, and was relieved that she was now able to wipe the slate clean and start again.
Alex had told his father that he was giving up any aspirations for the medical profession, and was applying for a regular Commission in the army. He also told them he had met a special girl in Switzerland, and would eventually bring her home for them to meet her.
I had decided to return and deal with my father's funeral. I was still one of his heirs, and Carol was due to fly back from California in a couple of days. I would leave my past behind and fly out to meet Chris in Langley in three weeks or so, when the doctor said I was fit enough.
We were taken to the airport by another darkened Ford with diplomatic plates, and Chris handed me my shoulder bag, minus the Glock.
"I took the liberty of placing most of your loose cash into two accounts. One in Switzerland, at the Banque Helvetia, where your mother's jewellery still is. And all the Sterling is with the National Westminster Bank, the phone account, Primeline, I think it is called. You have another account with the Columbia Bank, based in DC. All our employees use that bank, so your pay check will be paid into there automatically.
"All the account details are in your bag, with all the passports, etcetera. You will get everything sent through to your address in England. Or should I say, the Thwaites' address." Chris said with a smile.
"Thanks Chris. I'm not likely to be picked up at Heathrow, am I?"
"No way, that is all squared away, besides, you aren't Matthew Thwaites any more, are you?"
"No, I don't suppose I am." I said, with a grin.
"The British Security Services have co-operated with us, and your name and details have been changed officially. You are now Monique, legally in three countries. So, take care, and I'll see you at Langley when you are fit again."
He then surprised me by giving me a kiss.
We all had first class tickets, and we sat in the lounge being pampered prior to the flight. Alex was very attentive, and still treated me like an invalid. I now had three large suitcases of clothes, having undertaken several courses of retail therapy with Alison. Alex, bless him, had found a trolley and pushed them all to the check in.
Alison was well on the way to recovery. She had used the time to lose a little weight, and was looking good. She was more relaxed than I had ever seen her, and smiled a lot more. We had become really good friends, despite the age difference. As she kept remarking, I was at least twenty-six in many ways.
I felt wonderful. I had healed beautifully, and done all the exercises as required. Dr Schumman had personally discharged me, stating that I was his piece de resistance - his finest work. All I knew was that I couldn't pass a mirror or shop window, without looking at his work, and grinning like a fool.
If anything, I was now more confident, and self assured than ever. I was wearing a charcoal grey dress, with gold piping, and matching shoes. I wore stockings, and some of the most wonderful underwear that I could find. I looked, and felt, fantastic, and wanted everyone to share my joy. As I sat in the airport lounge, with Alex pacing up and down, I realised that I was finally at one with myself and the world.
Alex was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Alex, what's your problem?" I asked, when I could take no more.
"Huh?"
"You are behaving like a caged tiger."
He sat down beside me, and looked perturbed.
"I'm not sure, I just sense that you've changed."
"Me?"
"Yes, it is silly, but it is almost as if you have sort of grown up so far ahead of me, that I am left behind." he said, frowning.
I looked at him, and suddenly it dawned on me that he had no knowledge of the terrible constraints that I had only recently been freed from. I was behaving like a complete tart. I was revelling so much in my new femininity, that I had forgotten him, and his contribution to my life.
I leaned across, and kissed him for about three minutes.
"Never, ever, forget that you saved my bacon, and if ever I seem to drift off in my self-made glory, please bring me back to planet Earth." I said, when we surfaced to breathe.
He smiled, a little uncertainly, so I kissed him again.
This time, he began to respond with more than a little enthusiasm. I broke it off purely because in a few seconds, we would have started to undress, and I did not want to be thrown off the flight.
He sat back, with a completely different expression on his face.
"Alex?"
He looked at me.
"You do know that I love you, don't you?"
He smiled and took my hand.
"I had hoped you did. Thanks for telling me."
"Oh, pl-ease." said Alison, with a grin.
The flight boarded, and Alex and I sat together. We snuggled up close, and I came very close to wanting to try out my new equipment. But Dr Schumman had been very clear when he said goodbye.
"Remember." he had said. "You are not a transsexual. You are a woman. In a few weeks you will start to ovulate, and you will menstruate. This means that you will become pregnant if you do not take suitable precautions."
I had never even thought about these aspects of my life, and although it was all wonderful, it was not without responsibility.
I dozed after the meal, and Alex gently shook me awake as we came in to Heathrow. We followed the crowd, and I used my new UK Passport to gain entry through immigration control. The bored officer hardly glanced at it.
We collected the baggage, and met by the carousel.
"So, what now, people?" I asked.
"I have to be in front of the Assistant Commissioner tomorrow." Alison said.
"Are you going back home?"
"I suppose so. It will seem odd without you hanging about." she said.
We hugged, and both cried a little.
"Ring me, and let me know how you get on." I said.
"I will. Good luck, with whatever you do. Knowing you, as I do, I know you will be a wonderful success."
She kissed Alex and turned and went through the green channel.
Alex and I walked along, side-by-side, pushing our luggage trolleys. We went through the green channel, and out into Arrivals.
We stopped, and moved to one side.
I flung my arms around his neck, and we kissed, with such a depth of passion and love that the outside world ceased to exist.
I suddenly felt him go rigid, and a voice broke through into my consciousness.
"Alexander! My God boy! It is you!"
We broke off and Alex looked round.
Still holding me tightly, he smiled.
"Dad!" he said.
I partially disengaged my self from around his neck, and looked the same direction. A tall, older version of Alex stood there with a broad smile on his face. He had slightly less hair, but there was no doubt that they were father and son.
"Well, are you not going to introduce me?" he asked his son, he had a similar Scottish accent.
"Dad, this is Monique Bonnard. She is the girl I told you about. Monique, this is my Dad, Andrew Drummond."
"Enchante." I said, and Alex laughed.
His father frowned, and shook my hand.
"Monique, I take it you are French?" he said.
"My mother was French, my father was English. I have dual nationality, and am fluent in both languages." I said. "It is a pleasure, I have heard a lot about you."
"Aye, and I bet he told you that I have been pushing him to become a doctor?" he said, with a wry smile. I looked at Alex.
"Your mother tore me off a strip. I'm sorry Alex, I never considered that you had other plans." He said to his son.
"Its all right Dad, I didn't really know until I actually went for it." Alex said.
"Anyway, I was down on business, and I thought I would surprise you." he said.
Alex looked at me, and grinned.
"You certainly managed that, Dad, thanks."
I knew if I didn't leave him now, it would be so hard to do later. I had so much to do, and I just had to do it alone. This part of my life had to be kept a secret, for a while at any rate.
"Look, I have to go. Alex, please call me, you have my mobile and home number."
"I will. When can we get together?" he asked.
"I don't know, I have to sort out my father's funeral, and there is a lot of legal stuff that will need dealing with. Give me a week or so, or are you going straight back to Edinburgh?"
"Would you like me to give you some moral support through all this?" he asked.
I was tempted, but shook my head.
"No, you are sweet to offer, but I need to show myself that I can do something alone."
Alex looked at his father.
"This girl is the most capable girl I have ever met, Dad. Is it all right if I stay with you for a while?"
His father smiled.
"I'm here for about ten days, perhaps longer. You can do what you like. I'd like to have some time with you, as there are things we need to get clear." Andrew said, then he turned to me.
"I can quite see why Alex will be wanting to hang around down south for a wee while. Why don't you give us a ring when you feel up to it, and come over for dinner, or something?"
"Give me a few days, I think I'd like that." I said.
"Okay! I love you Monique!" he said.
"I love you too, Alex!" I replied, and we kissed again.
I left him with his father, and caught a cab to return to my home!
Part 14.
I sat in my father's chair, the same one in which he had died. I had been home for just over a week, but I no longer felt that this was my home. Mrs Rogers had answered the door when I arrived from the airport, and I had the devil of a job to persuade her that I had once been Matthew.
I explained that I had been suffering from a clinical condition, and had always been female. Once she accepted the truth, we got on quite well, but every time she saw me, she would shake her head and mutter. I had impressed upon her the delicate nature of the circumstances, and that it was highly confidential. I hoped she understood, but only time would tell.
I had taken great pleasure throwing out all Matthew's things, and had moved myself into the main bedroom. I had found some stuff of my mothers in the attic; Dad had obviously been unable to throw everything away as he had told us. I took great delight in wearing a few of her old clothes. Somehow, I felt closer to her by wearing things I remembered her wearing.
I found some old photographs, and as I glanced into a mirror, I caught my breath, I thought that I looked just like she had done when a similar age. No wonder my Dad had difficulty relating to me. I hadn't realised I looked so much like her. Poor Dad, it must have been so hard for. I now felt sorry for him, but he could have opened up to me a little, instead of shutting everyone out.
Carol called me from the States, and because she was due to give birth, imminently, she had her husband had decided that there was little point flying all the way over to the UK for the funeral of someone she had little regard for, despite its being her father. I told her all about my adventures, and she shocked me when I told her that I was now a girl.
"That explains an awful lot. It doesn't surprise me in the least. I actually thought there was something wrong with you since you were about six." she had said.
We chatted for ages, and it was almost as if we had grown closer because of my change in circumstances.
"Look, I hated the old bugger. I am not going to be hypocritical enough to come and blub over his coffin. I actually feel completely numb to him. So I shall leave it to you. I'm sorry to lumber you, but I have a new life, and he was never part of my life over here." she told me.
"I have a meeting with the solicitor tomorrow. It will be interesting, he doesn't know about me yet." I said.
She laughed, and told me to send her anything that he left her in his will.
"Was there any jewellery of Mama's?" she asked.
"Some, it's in Switzerland." I had replied.
"Look, you keep it, you deserve it. I wouldn't mind a couple of rings, or something to remember her."
I agreed to send her some, and we parted as sisters, and friends. I promised to come and see her after she had had the baby.
Richard Thompson, my father's solicitor arrived at two pm, prompt. Mrs Rogers met him, and brought him into the study, as I had asked. I was sitting behind Dad's desk, having spent at least two hours on my appearance. I was wearing the grey and gold dress again, and I knew that I looked sophisticated and about as far removed from Matthew as I could ever get.
He came in, and I stood up, and walked towards him. I held out my hand, saying, "Mr Thompson. I am so pleased you could come. My father often spoke of you."
He shook my hand, and sat in the chair I showed him to. I returned behind the desk, and he was frowning dreadfully.
"I'm afraid, you have me at a disadvantage." he said.
"I'm sorry. I am Monique, I am Charles' younger daughter." I said.
He stared at me, and the frown strove to make his eyebrows copulate.
"I was wrongly identified as a boy at birth, but as you see, I am actually a girl. I used to be called Matthew." I explained, putting him out of his misery. "I have here a copy of a letter from Dr Schumman from a clinic in Switzerland. It documents my case, and I have used it to have my identity altered accordingly. I have adopted my mother's maiden name by deed poll, for obvious reasons."
"Oh!" he said, completely lost for words.
"My sister, Carol, is due to give birth any minute. So, she will not be able to get back. I spoke to her yesterday, and she sends her apologies."
He looked at Dr Schumman's letter, my new birth certificate and passport and accepted the explanation with no comment. We spent the next two hours going over the will. There was an enormous amount of legalese, but once we cut through the crap, it seems that Carol and I had an equal share of an estate in the region of twenty million pounds sterling. After inheritance tax, of course. Mrs Rogers had been left £200,000. There were no other beneficiaries.
In real terms, taking the depressed stock market into account, I was worth in the region of six to eight million pounds. The crafty old sod had placed it in trust until we were both twenty-five, so I had eight years to go. Carol had only a few months.
I was quite happy, as I knew I had already squirreled away a small fortune without the knowledge of HM Inland Revenue Services, and I was due to be paid more than a reasonable salary by my new employers.
By the time he left, I believe the old Monique charm had worked, and we had come to an understanding. He and Carol were the executors, and I was more than content with that arrangement.
I had called Jenny Robbins, and had gone to visit her. She was about as amazed as anyone could be, but was very happy for me. She very kindly wrote off the money I owed for the injections she had given me that started everything off. I offered to send the pills I hadn't used back to her, and she was happy with that. She then gave me similar advice to Dr Schumman, and so I knew I would have to visit a doctor as soon as I got settled.
Alison was not required to resign, but she was taken off CIB, and went back to a CID office in Central London. In actual fact, the letters from the US state department were so complimentary, that the Assistant Commissioner would have been hard pushed to take her job away. She promised that we would get together soon, but was busy getting her life sorted out.
The funeral had been a dismal affair. Eight people turned up at the crematorium. I was the only family, and sat by myself at the front. The vicar was bored, and whizzed through the service. The coffin disappeared, and I turned and walked out. I spoke to no one, except the undertakers, and no one attempted to speak to me. I think the seven others were in the wrong funeral. Dad had not been religious, and had plainly stipulated that he wanted no church service.
I went back to the house, and here I was sitting over the stained carpet, close to where I had hidden on that fateful night.
I was contemplating the stain when the phone went. I always left Mrs Rogers answer it, so I could evade any awkward enquiries. She knocked on the door, and popped her head round.
"It is a young man called Alexander Drummond, Miss Monique." she said.
"Thanks, I'll take it." I said, and picked up the phone. Mrs Rogers disappeared.
"Hi Alex!"
"Monique! You have no idea how much I have missed you." he said, and my heart soared as soon as I heard his voice.
"Me too."
"Dad went on and on about what a nice girl you were. I didn't tell him you are an assassin."
I laughed.
"I'm not an assassin. I just happened to kill two nasty men."
"Still, I had to be a bit evasive when he asked me what you did."
"What did you say?"
"I told him you were hoping to work for a multi-national corporation, as an interpreter/translator, but were also considering going back into education."
"Good thinking! I don't really want everyone to know what I do."
"So, how has your week been?"
"Bloody depressing. I buried my father yesterday, and I am glad you phoned. I miss you, Alex."
"Why don't you come and stay in the flat? We are here for another week."
"Is your dad there with you?"
"Yes, but he's fine. He asked me whether we were sleeping together."
"What did you say?"
"I told him the truth. I said you weren't that kind of girl."
"How do you know?"
"I know you, and I respect you for it."
I laughed.
"Alex, you don't know me that well. I haven't slept with you because I was clinically unable to. Not because I don't want you. I almost let you screw me in the airport lounge in Zurich."
"Oh! I thought you were...sort of.... you know?"
"No, tell me?"
"I thought you wanted to wait."
"Until when?"
"I don't know, just until we were... sort of... you know?"
"Alex, you are waffling. Until when?"
"Until we were engaged or something."
"Alex, I am a normal girl, with normal desires and feelings. I want you, and I intend to have you, and so it is up to you when 'something' happens. Okay?"
There was silence on the other end.
"Alex?"
"Can you come and stay?" he asked. I sensed that he was grinning.
"Would you like me to?"
"You have to ask?"
I looked round the dark study, and thought of the huge empty house. This wasn't my home, it was somewhere I kept my clothes for the moment.
"I'll be there as soon as I can get a cab."
"I can come and pick you up."
I gave him the address and directions.
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
I sought out Mrs Rogers. She was in her small flat on the first floor, above the garage.
"I am going to stay with a friend for a few days. If you need me urgently, then you have my mobile number. Otherwise, you don't know where I am." I said.
"Right, Miss Monique. And where will you be?"
"You don't know, remember?" I said.
"Oh, right."
"Mrs Rogers, how long have you been my father's housekeeper?" I asked.
"Since your poor mother died, dear."
"I think we are going to sell the house, I don't want it, and neither does Carol. I talked it over with her and we want you to look for a flat or bungalow, wherever you want, and we will buy it for you. The solicitor knows, and has agreed to handle it. Just notify him of the details. That way you don't need to break into the capital that Dad left you. It is only right." I said, and left her gaping after me.
I went to my room, the room that my parents had shared. I loved the huge bed, but found the atmosphere of the house was generally oppressive.
I packed enough for a month away, and felt as giddy as a schoolgirl on the eve of her first party. My life had turned into something wonderful, and I almost didn't want to go to bed, in case I missed some.
My body had virtually healed now. The scarring was evident, but only if you knew where to look, and with each day, it became less obvious. I would spend long luxurious moments in the shower or bath, just enjoying my new body. I loved it when I was clean and scented. I had spent ages finding a perfume that appealed to me, and adored the feel of fine fabrics next to my skin. I had bought some lovely lacy lingerie, with Alex in mind. My breasts had filled out more, and were almost the same size as my old falsies.
When Alex arrived, driving his father's Audi, I was sitting on my suitcase on the drive. When we eventually broke off from our kiss, he glanced up at the house, and whistled.
"This is a huge house." he said.
"When you are the only occupant, it is a mausoleum." I said.
He looked at me.
"You look even better than when I last saw you."
"So I should hope. I was still recovering from a major operation."
"I love you so much."
"You are a soppy sod. Kiss me, and put my stuff in the car." I ordered, and he complied, willingly.
He chatted aimlessly all the way, and I knew he was as excited at seeing me, as I was at seeing him.
I really had missed him, and here was someone that I could still act my real age with. I didn't have to prove anything to him, and I just loved being with him. I felt slightly guilty at withholding certain truths about myself, but I knew that if we developed our relationship any further, I would tell him everything, or nearly everything.
I expected a small flat, and was surprised to find a very nice three bedroom spacious apartment in a very chic neighbourhood. His father wasn't home when we walked in, and Alex showed me to the room I was to have. He carried my case in, and plonked it on the bed.
He showed me the rest of the flat, including his parents' room. There was a photograph of the family all together, his dad and mum, his two sisters and Alex.
"How old are your sisters?" I asked.
"Becky is fifteen, and Roz is thirteen."
"Oh, so you are the big grown up brother. I bet they tease you whenever you bring your girlfriends home." I said.