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

Part 25.

The meeting on the next day was in London, at the Ministry of Defence. The security was tight, as the agenda related to anti-terrorism and the measures that we, the US and British, could take to prevent it. The British had been fighting Irish Terrorism for years, and they were very experienced at seeking the hidden army that lay lurking pretending to be ordinary people.

There was a presentation by a senior SAS officer, and then it was the turn of the Scotland Yard Anti-Terrorist Branch Commander to give some insight of the incredibly difficult task that the authorities now faced. The Americans had little experience but had plenty of ideas, and after lunch, a joint presentation by two intelligence specialists, one American and the other British, into how best to utilise IT solutions in the war against terrorism.

This was my field, and the General made it plain he wanted some intelligent questions and observations from me, to justify his belief that his department was a key player in this area.

Fortunately, the lecturers were not experts in IT, but working from a script which had been prepared for them. The man who prepared some of the technical material was seated at the back, and on my seventh technical question, he was brought forward to answer it.

I displayed a sound level of knowledge, and was able to impress the General that not only that I knew what I was talking about, but also that as his staff officer, his department was ahead of the game.

Indeed, at the tea at the end of the day, the technical expert sought me out, and we had an in depth discussion on how best to utilise the Internet, and various financial systems to track down terrorist and criminal money transactions, and thereby tracking the terrorists.

I overheard one of the British Security men saying to my General, “Typical of you Americans, not only do you bring along the only stunning blonde, who displays a greater knowledge than the specialists, but also manages to look incredibly sexy while she does it.”

I grinned and drank my tea, feeling I had earned my place on the trip.

As I drove the Jaguar back to Woking, Howard sat up front with me.

“I was very proud of you today, you impressed a lot of important people,” he said.

“You wanted intelligent questions, I tried my best,” I replied.

“You did well. I had the head of the British Secret Service asking about you. I didn’t tell him you should really be working for him.”

The General chuckled.

“I still feel a fraud. I’m wearing a uniform I don’t feel entitled to, I have a name I wasn’t born with, and so my whole life seems based on a whim. It is as if I am playing a role, which has turned into reality, and I don’t know how to stop,” I said.

Howard looked at me. Before the trip, I had told him everything, so he had signed out the Zurich file to see for himself. He told me never to tell anyone about my past, so together, we built a new past for me, including family snaps and school reports with photographs.

“Do you want it to stop?”

I shook my head.

“Not really, but I keep thinking a grown-up will come in and catch me red-handed.”

He laughed.

“No, you are one of the grown-ups now, and you play the game as well as, if not better than the rest. Monique, you are a natural. You can take a role, and expand it to such a level of reality, that it becomes infinitely believable. I have one reservation.”

“Oh?”

“Your young man. Alex.”

“What about him?”

“Is it wise?”

“Probably not. But then I reserve the right to be an idiot at least once in my life.”

He smiled.

“I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

“That’s good, because neither do I.”

“Can I ask you one favour?”

“Of course.”

“I know you love him, and you plan on getting married. But can you both wait a few years.”

“Why?”

“You are both so young, and if he is going off to be a soldier, I would hate for you to become a widow.”

“So would I. But believe it or not I want him and want to be with him.”

“I don’t argue with that, but in reality, you will both be apart for the next few years. So, set a date in say three years. You will both be very young still, and maybe, all being well, your feelings for each other will be even stronger because of the delay.”

I drove in silence for a moment.

“If he agrees, I don’t have a problem with that. I do accept that our different careers will keep us apart,” I said.

“Good girl. I wish all young people would be as sensible as you.”

He changed the subject, and we chatted about a variety of subjects until we arrived at our temporary home.

The next day was Saturday and Stacey had persuaded me to show her London. Of course, John had to come too, so we set off at ten o’clock in the morning, after I had had my run.

We took the train up into town, and we had just arrived at Oxford Circus when my mobile rang.

It was Alex.

“Hi.”

“Monique. Where are you?”

“Oxford Circus. Where are you?”

“I am just leaving Sandhurst. Can I meet you for lunch somewhere?”

“Sure, why don’t we meet at Hamley’s Toy store in about an hour, and find somewhere to eat after that.”

“I’ll see you there. Why the toy store?”

“Because I have yet to grow up, and I love the place,” I said. He laughed and hung up on me.

It was a great day. For a start, the sun was out and it didn’t rain, always a bonus in the UK. Stacey was dying to meet Alex, and when we all met up, she whispered to me, “I can see why you kept faithful, he’s gorgeous.”

I bought some more clothes, and so did Stacey, much to John’s disgust.

“Why you need any more clothes, it beats me,” said my beloved. ”This girl has more clothes than anyone I know.”

“Stacey has more than me,” I said, and she grinned.

John found some computer games he was after, but thought they were really expensive.

“Welcome to Britain, where the government taxes the hell out of everything,” I said.

In the afternoon, I took them to the Tower of London, and they saw the TowerBridge open for a Russian tall ship as it sailed up the Thames.

Alex was pleasantly surprised to see me in jeans and a tee shirt. I appeared the ordinary girl next-door, and clung to him every moment I could. We went to the Dickens Pub on the dockside near the TowerBridge. It was a really old pub that sold real ale, and had sawdust on the floor.

I bought John his first pint of real ale, and he actually liked it. I didn’t, but didn’t say so, but he had not really become addicted to Budweiser, fortunately.

We took in a show, and rolled in to Woking station at about eleven thirty. I then realised we still had Alex in tow.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m staying with you,” he said.

“Who says?” I asked, aware that as a guest in the Munroe’s home this was not on.

“I says,” said Stacey.

“Huh?”

“Don’t sound a dumb American Blonde. I told Daddy that Alex was here, and he told me to ask him to stay.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

“Oh come on. Monique, you have been pining for him for weeks. I did you a favour, after all, you are engaged, aren’t you?”

I smiled.

“I guess,” I said.

“Jeez girl, you are so slow,” she said, and giggled.

We trooped back to the house, and Howard greeted Alex as soon as he walked in the door.

“Ah, you must be Alex. I’m Stacey’s Dad.”

“How do you do, sir,” said Alex, a product of the BritishPublic School system.

“Glad that you could make it. My staff officer has been virtually useless as her fiancé has been otherwise engaged up until now. See you sort her out, there’s a good chap. Well, I shall bid you all a good night,” Howard went off to bed, and Stacey grinned at us.

Sufficient to say, Alex and I slipped off to bed very soon afterwards, and very little sleeping was done that night.

Stacey woke us at noon, and we appeared at half past, rather sheepish, but very content.

The weekend passed too quickly, and Alex was back for his final week. Actually, he had another six months at the College as a commissioned officer before joining his regiment. This was his last week as an officer cadet.

There were two official meetings, so I drove Howard to both. They were concerned with security and intelligence handling. There were so many agencies dealing with both fields, that there was a fear that central coordination and control would be poor, and that vital mistakes would be the consequence, and important intelligence lost forever.

The desire was to attempt some form of unification and pooling of resources, so that all the NATO and other Western allies were all in tune. But, as ever, no one was willing to hand over control of national intelligence or security to anyone else, least of all the Americans. So, these meetings were to attempt to build an international coordination group, that would act as a clearing house for policy and intelligence that was deemed appropriate for circulation to all members of the group.

I sat at the back and smiled.

These men waffled, using all kinds of pompous words, yet all were unable to give an inch, their respective governments wanted to keep national interests under their own control, and no one wanted the Americans getting a look-in.

Howard, one of the few non-political appointees to the meeting, was getting more and more irate. I drew him a little cartoon, with all the world leaders at the time of the Second World War, all saying the same things, with the caption…. “They call it progress. What happens when politicians try to do anything important.”

I passed him the piece of paper, just as he was about to lose his temper.

He opened it, looked at it, and smiled. He carefully folded it up, and put it in his pocket. He relaxed, and looked back at me, and nodded.

When he spoke, he was calm, and very serious.

“Gentlemen. We can sit here and talk ourselves into the ground. The reality is simple, whilst we are nationalistically selfish, the terrorist will win. He knows no boundaries, he knows no barriers, he recognises no authority. Our little differences are his strongest weapon against us, and until we learn to be like him, we will lose.

“So, I am leaving. You represent your respective governments, and each has your own agenda. A very wise colleague of mind reminds me that the major nations of this world formed the Treaty of Versailles, which failed to protect the world against Hitler. The same nations formed the UN, and still we fail. The day of the politician is near the end.

“My agenda is to fight and beat the terrorist, and if I can’t do it with your help, then I must do it alone. Good day.”

With that, I stood and held his hat and brief case. He turned, took his hat, and I followed him out of the meeting. There were many stunned expressions looking after us.

He was silent, and walked very quickly out of the building, and I struggled to keep up. I unlocked the car and he sat in the front passenger seat.

“Thank you, my dear. I almost lost my temper back there. You are a very fine artist, if I may say so.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“Why oh why are we so short sighted and petty minded?”

“That’s men for you,” I said, and he chuckled.

“You are probably right. Give power over to women and they’d sort them all out.”

“Not necessarily, sir, but at least the curtains would match the carpets,” I said, and he burst out laughing.

since 04/29/05