Using the "Edit" buttons below, you can modify the text on your Book Store page of authorhouse.com. Simply click on the "Edit" button for the section you wish to modify and then make your changes. Making changes here will not affect your cover or galley if (type of (tagVars) = "undefined") ; About The Book Three Santa Barbara sailors depart for Ensenada Mexico to take delivery of a forty-four foot sailboat named the Swan. But before they leave on their journey, one of them, an attorney named Tom slips in the crosswalk of an intersection in front of the courthouse and is temporarily knocked out. When he comes to, a man with a black hat and a soft voice is leaning over him. It is none other than the Prince of Pop himself, Jeremy Princeton, who almost hit him while riding in his limousine. Concerned that Tom may be injured, Jeremy takes Tom to his estate Tierra Bella in Santa Ynez to see his physician. There, Tom is shown two masterpieces, a Renoir and a Rembrandt, which had been stolen from the Swedish National Museum and then mysteriously shipped to Jeremy in a box of musical instruments. Along with the stolen masterpieces, Jeremy also has in his possession a mystical sphere called the Black Piper which grants the owner great wealth and power at first but eventually becomes a curse.

Top Secret

Eleven Years of Blood, Sweat, and TearsBy DALE KISER

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Dale Kiser
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-8298-7

Contents

Chapter 1. Molly and Jim Meet......................................1Chapter 2. Jim Owens...............................................13Chapter 3. Sonia Obrusk............................................16Chapter 4. Jim and Molly Date......................................20Chapter 5. Molly returns to Seattle................................35Chapter 6. The Breakup and the Makeup..............................43Chapter 7. Molly Unable to Accept Jim's Work.......................59Chapter 8. Jo Ann Peterson.........................................64Chapter 9. South America and General Thomas........................87Chapter 10. Jim and Sonia Obrusk Meet................................112Chapter 11. Sonia and Jim Travel.....................................131Chapter 12. Mollie and Her Dilemmas..................................144Chapter 13. Mollie to CIA Training...................................167Chapter 14. Sally Redkin and George..................................200Chapter 15. Mollie Begins Work as CIA Operative......................225Chapter 16. Sonia Obrusk.............................................248Chapter 17. Mollie and Jim Work Together.............................276Chapter 18. Sonia and Jim Travel.....................................310Chapter 19. Sonia Uncovered as KGB Operative.........................328Chapter 20. Double Agent.............................................364Chapter 21. De-bugging...............................................390Chapter 22. Sonia's Disappearance....................................408Chapter 23. Mollie's Hurts...........................................420Chapter 24. Jo Ann and Jim to Prague.................................425Chapter 25. Thomas Rhodes, Alias Angel in Prague.....................457Chapter 26. The Prague Caper.........................................483Chapter 27. House of the Golden Key..................................497Chapter 28. The Exchange.............................................510Chapter 29. The Escapes..............................................538Chapter 30. Little Greek.............................................557Chapter 31. African Chase to Avenge Jo Ann...........................569Chapter 32. Jim and Mick Return......................................604Chapter 33. Athens, Greece and Georgia...............................618Chapter 34. Return to Alaska.........................................636Chapter 35. Chase to the Orient......................................644Chapter 36. Resignation..............................................662Chapter 37. Healing Time.............................................674

Chapter One

The end had finally come. The end of years of blood, sweat, and tears. To end with the few words, "I'm leaving. I can't take it any more. I've given all I had and I'm getting out." Just like that, he told me everything had come to an end. Then he simply walked out of my life and was gone.

Definitely there had been blood, sweat, and tears. I'd shed much sweat and hundreds of gallons of tears. It was a miracle there weren't tear troughs down my cheeks. I'd cried over him, and over myself for eleven years, most of the time hoping to undo the tremendous hurt I'd caused him. And hoping that eventually when he'd forgiven me, we could start a life together with me by his side as his wife. But the deep-seated hurts, along with his inability to sanely rationalize our situation, coupled with all the other problems he'd had, in the end had finally driven him from me. Now he was gone.

I gave him much, and I received much from him. I had given him much pleasure, as well as a lot of hurt. I was his confidant, his love, his lover, but never his wife. I let him down on at least three occasions, all of which were desperate for him. That was at least a major contributing factor in his leaving without me. I believe he could never fully trust me after the last of those times. Much time passing and much time spent working together had not erased the hurts. Eventually the hurts and the problems created by the job were more than he could bear. Now everything had fallen apart. Even as hard as I'd tried to atone for the times I'd hurt him, we were not able to get back where we had once been in our relationship. Could we ever really have gone back once we passed a point in time? Maybe we didn't admit that possibility to ourselves. Some seem to be able to go back, but not us.

But of course few had ever been where we'd been, or through what we had been through. I felt like a huge tidal wave had hit me. Like an earthquake that measured the maximum on the Richter Scale. Like the quake we'd gone through. We had stood and watched and felt huge buildings crumbling around us. Huge chasms in the earth opened up, as if the earth was trying to swallow us. But the shock of that, and the resulting destruction was minor to the way I felt I was about to crumble. For eleven long years I'd suffered, sweated, and cried. I didn't crumble through all that, yet I was about to now that he was gone.

As I climbed "our hill" I couldn't help but remember the first time, and all the other times we'd climbed up together. Over the years our hill had become a very special and meaningful place to us. I know it was there that I first fell in love with him as I watched and listened to him the first time we were here. We stood on the hill and talked and marveled at the great creations of God. We sang the song "North to Alaska" many times as we looked around. He once said I made him glad that he'd made the long journey north. At one point in our relationship, he said that all the struggles and all the hardships had been greatly lessened because of my presence. And he said that when he was going through those darkest hours of his life, the thoughts of me had helped him persevere. Why wasn't he able to let himself accept my love and admit that all the hurt we caused each other was erased?

Yes, I thought to myself, I certainly would trade all the gold, and all of everything else buried in this land, for a band of gold for my hand. A band of gold placed there by him.

It had been a hell of a battle for the eleven years. Would we ever get over it? Would he ever be able to forget and live with the heavy load of guilt he was carrying? Would the mental scars ever heal and be erased? Or, would they simply dim to the point where he could cope? Time! Time and only time would answer these and other questions. The physical scars and pain he would suffer, would always be with him as gross reminders. Perhaps in time, he would be able to look at them, while feeling pain, and not suffer.

At one time I felt than an hour with him was worth a lifetime of other pleasures. Had I truly become his conscience, become a part of him, as I said I would the first time we were on "our hill?" Perhaps so. Certainly I'd tried to show him some justification for what he had done when he was depressed and questioning himself severely. I did that after I finally accepted him and the job he was doing. But the thoughts and hurts of those critical times that I had rejected him, had in the end, proven to be the end of us. But was that really true? I'd never be able to completely understand the complexity of his mind and what happened to us, and what had happened to me.

As I spread the blanket out on the ground, I felt as if he was near. I laid back, my mind wandering back over the years to that time, back eleven years to July.

I saw him as he came around the corner just across the street from me. He was well dressed, maybe too much for this little northern town. The blue blazer over gray pants and yellow shirt made him stand out. I guess that's why I first noticed him. At first sight, even from across the street, there seemed to be a purpose about him. I guessed his age at mid twenties. Quickly the notion hit me that this young man should be here to celebrate, instead of what he was doing. Purpose! That's what he seemed to be about on this warm July fourth day. What is his purpose, I wondered?

Other than his clothing and the sense of purpose, there wasn't anything particular outstanding about him that I could see. But a strange feeling, almost like a cold chill, ran through me as I watched him walk down the street. He wasn't moving fast, but I still got the feeling there was a definite purpose on his mind. How did I know that, I asked myself? His walk and the way he carried himself seemed to say, "not pleasure and not hurry, just purpose." I definitely sensed he was here for some reason other than to be a part of the Fourth of July celebration that was in progress.

He looked to be a little above average in height. I guessed between six foot two and six foot three and about one hundred and ninety pounds. Why was I even thinking about that? It certainly was out of character for me to be looking at a man so closely, much less trying to analyze everything about him.

One had to look closely to discern the almost hidden suppleness of his body. There would be a strength there that was camouflaged, I reasoned. And I felt there would be an inner strength that might be even stronger than his physical strength. What was happening to me? Was I in some sort of trance? I didn't know what had come over me. I was captivated by him. So unlike me. I was so out of character.

I wasn't close enough to see his eyes. What would I see in his face? Just what was there about this man that caused me to be so intrigued with him? I'd met lots of good-looking men, few of which had been of any concern to me. Usually I looked at them and just shrugged them off. I wasn't interested. Certainly, I'd never stared at a man nonstop like I was doing at this one. I was embarrassing my self.

An urge swept over me that said I must know more about him. It was almost uncontrollable. My better judgment told me to forget it. I started to turn away and go about my business, but I couldn't turn. Something within seemed to grip me and turn me around. It said, "go on and forget about your strict upbringing for once." My feet began to move in the direction he was going. I suddenly realized I was going to follow him. I couldn't understand it. I felt like I might feel if I were drowning.

There were few people on the street as I dazedly began to follow him. I had little trouble following. I hoped he wouldn't see me and know what I was doing. That would be embarrassing.

A man stopped him about a block from where I first saw him. As they were talking, two others joined them. A serious and animated conversation seemed to be taking place. I was almost close enough to hear what they were saying when he seemed to wave them off to go about their business. As the two passed by me, I could see they were serious about something. What could their business be here in this little town on the Fourth of July?

He continued on down the street, going into a restaurant. I followed like metal drawn to a magnet. Instead of following directly behind him into the restaurant, I walked on down the street. I didn't want to be too obvious. After half a block I stopped, pretending to be looking at clothes in a window display. Then I turned and walked back to the restaurant. Again I wondered what I was doing. I'd never done anything like this before so why was I doing it now? There was no logical answer. There couldn't be one. I definitely was completely out of my normal character.

He was sitting in a booth with his back to me. My eyes searched for a place to sit close to him. I wanted to be close enough to see his eyes and face. But, even if I could see them, what made me think I could read them? Was I going crazy?

I began to make my way toward a booth next to his. As I walked by, he glanced up. I caught a quick glimpse of his face and eyes. Even though they were young, there was evidence of maturity beyond his age.

Quickly my eyes left his face and moved to his left hand. There was no ring. Why had I looked for a ring? Obvious? No! I didn't know him, yet I looked for a ring. I'd hoped there wouldn't be one.

It was difficult for me to keep from watching him continually as he ate. I decided he wasn't especially handsome, but there was an attractiveness about him. His clothes were stylish, much more so than what the men in this town wore. I wondered where he was from. Why? Had the gleam in his eyes pulled me all the way in? And why was he eating alone without his friends?

He finished and got up to leave. As he paid his check, he looked at me. There was a trace of a faint smile on his face, as if he knew something. For an instant our eyes were locked onto each other's. He looked at me very intently for a moment. My stomach began to churn and my legs felt like rubber. He seemed to be searching out my thoughts. Could he read them, I instantly thought? The gleam in his eye said he could. If he could, I was in trouble. The smile broadened for a moment, then left his face as he turned to leave. Instantly I thought I detected a warning in his face.

Through the window I could see him walking in the direction of the dock. What was down there that might interest him? I was tempted to follow him once more. But that would be too obvious. And besides, there was something in his face that told me to leave him alone. The urge to follow him was still strong within me. But I knew I must not. Would he still be here tonight during the street dance? I hoped he would. I was not heeding the warning I'd seen on his face.

As I left the restaurant, it suddenly dawned me that I'd also seen a great sensitiveness in his face. But what sort of sensitiveness was it? Something in his eyes and face had revealed that. It had taken it a while to sink into my mind that I'd seen that. Was it a sensitiveness toward people, or was it directed toward his surroundings? And I realized I'd seen some unrecognizable things written in him and again I shuddered as the strange feelings about him swept over me.

Throughout the day as Susan Olsen and I participated in the celebration activities, I looked for him. I was beginning to think he might have left. I was so engrossed in thinking about him that Susan finally said that I seemed to be distracted.

I answered, "I saw a man earlier today who intrigued me a lot. I just can't seem to get him out of my mind."

Susan said, "I was curious about what's been wrong with you all day."

"You'll just have to forgive me for being such bad company. I can't seem to concentrate on anything but looking for him."

Susan answered, "I doubt there's a man in this town even remotely worthy of that kind of attention."

"I don't think he's from here. I think he's from somewhere else."

"Well, I suppose he's one of the many who've come for the celebration," Susan responded.

I said, "I don't even think that. At least not entirely."

"Why do you feel that way?" Susan asked.

"I don't know for sure. We probably would have seen him by now if he were here for the celebration. Looking at him made me feel so strange. It was as if I'd seen someone very different. When I first saw him, a cold chill went all over me."

"Is he that good looking?" she asked.

"It wasn't looks. It was something else. I even followed him."

Susan exclaimed, "You what! Now that is strange knowing you. I want to see what it was that made you follow him. That's got to be just about the most unusual thing you've ever done."

"I guess you're right," I said.

Susan changed the subject. "Let's walk down to the dock and see what's happening there." So we headed toward the Alaska Steamship Company dock.

The freighter Klutina was at the dock being unloaded. There were several boats in the harbor. Some people seemed to be having a good time speeding around over the water in their small boats.

We were about half way out on the pier when I saw him. I nudged Susan and excitedly said, "There he is. He's the one in the middle looking at the boxes."

Finally Susan spoke, "I see what you mean. He's not from Valdez and neither are the other three with him." We watched them as they looked over some boxes that had apparently just been unloaded from the ship. They seemed to be inspecting them very closely. Moments later he left the others and went into the freight office, returning a few minutes later. I pretended to be watching a couple of small boats that were racing wildly around out in the bay. But I was watching him out of the corner of my eye. Susan was watching too, seemingly very engrossed.

He left the others and boarded the ship. I saw him making his way toward the ship's bridge. As he approached, the captain came out. I saw him take out his wallet and show the captain something. They talked for a few moments before going inside.

"I wonder what's up?" Susan said.

"Me too," I responded. "There's something going on."

"Now that's a brilliant deduction if I ever heard one," Susan said.

"Call it what you like. I suppose something is wrong with a freight order. Maybe they didn't get all they were supposed to, or something like that." I was grasping at straws for an explanation.

"Could be. That would be a logical answer to something small that we're trying to make out to be something big."

But I was thinking that it seemed to me that anything involving a freight order would be settled in the freight office and not inside the bridge of the ship.

He came out and left the bridge, heading toward the others on the pier. They stood talking, seemingly very serious.

Susan interrupted my thoughts. "That blond haired fellow looks very good to me. But I guess we should leave before we begin to look suspicious. On the other hand, we could just walk right up to them and introduce ourselves. If they didn't ask us for a date, we could ask them. Right?"

"Good heavens no," I answered quickly. "You might be able to do that, but I can't."

"That good old church upbringing still in your way, eh. I suppose you'll be unkissed and still a virgin when you get married."

I said, "Well, I intend to be a virgin at least."

Susan laughed and said, "Miss Prude, we'd better leave before they notice us staring at them. I don't want you to be embarrassed. Anyway, it's getting late and we need to get back to my house to eat. Then it'll be time to change for the dance. It may take me hours to get ready."

As I turned for one last look, the four of them started walking in our direction.

"Too late," I said. "They're coming toward us. We'll have to wait until they pass by us."

We turned and walked to the rail, pretending to be looking out over the bay. As they passed behind I couldn't help but look at him. As I turned my head, I saw his eyes on me. A smile came to his face. For a moment I thought he was going to stop and speak. But he didn't. His head nodded slightly toward me, ever so slightly, but discernible. That strange feeling came to me again. It started in my eyes and spread throughout my entire body. So strange, as if I were being completely consumed by something. Something I couldn't see, nor understand. I felt like I was drowning. I was so befuddled that I didn't know if I smiled or nodded my head in return. I was a complete blank.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Top Secretby DALE KISER Copyright © 2010 by Dale Kiser. Excerpted by permission.
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