The Pawn

This is the sequel to "The Samaritan", and the plot thickens (you'll really have to read "The Samaritan" first.)

Cautionary: straight sex only, kinky sex, including anal play; this isn't as 'sweet' as The Samaritan...

Setting: Europe, Contemporary.

Characters:

Michael, male, 33 years old, male lead

Natasha, female, 23 years old, female lead

Mischka, female, 3 years old, Natasha's daughter

Dusek, male, 25 years old, Natasha's partner, deceased

Nicky, female, 30 years old, Michael's ex

Peter, male, 33 years old, Michael's enemy

Tom, male, 32 years old, Michael's friend

Note to the reader: I welcome feedback, but (especially) if you have something negative to say, please substantiate your comment.

The Pawn

Sequel to The Samaritan

Part One

It's a beautiful spring day as Michael enters Batavia; the restaurant is his favorite place to have lunch at when he's in Utrecht for his monthly visit to his company's HQ. After entering he immediately notices Tom is already sitting at their usual corner table. Tom is a former colleague and an old friend who, unlike he himself, works in Utrecht permanently. They always use the occasion of his monthly visit to HQ to meet up again.

The Indo girl behind the bar waves at him, smiling, he's a familiar face and she knows he's here to have lunch with Tom. Walking over towards where Tom is sitting he inhales the restaurant's familiar atmosphere; the traditional dark woodcarvings adorning the walls, the smell of Indonesian food, and the soft Krontjong music. "Hi Michael," Tom greets him from behind a glass of beer.

"Long time no see, Tom" he replies. Tom had missed their previous meeting due to some emergency at work last month. He takes off his jacket and drops it over the back of a chair, then sits himself down on the chair next to it, opposite Tom.

He has barely sat himself down when the girl shows up with the menus, "Would you like something to drink?" she asks him, while handing them the menus.

He points at Tom's beer, "A Bintang for me too please," he winks at her, "and have one yourself too."

The girl smiles, "Well thank you sir!" then hurries back towards the bar.

When he looks back at Tom again his friend is clearly studying him, then looks quizzically. He raises his eyebrows, "What?"

Tom grins, "What's her name?"

He plays innocent, "What do you mean?"

Tom chuckles, "Fuck man, you've been depressed for ages, and now you just shine, so who's the lucky girl?"

He chuckles, raising his hands in surrender, "Alright, you got me, her name's Natasha."

Tom smiles, "I knew it!" then raises his glass and toasts him.

Michael grins, "Actually, it's two girls, I now have a Mischka too..."

Tom almost chokes on his beer, "Come again?"

He chuckles, "Natasha has a daughter, she's just three years old, and cute as a button."

A beer gets planted down on the table in front of him, and when he looks up the waitress smiles at him, then winks, "Good for you, sir." She gets out her notepad, "Have you decided already?" He hasn't opened the menu yet, but he knows what he wants, looks questioningly at Tom, who nods back at him.

He smiles at the girl, "For me the Saté Kambing, with some Ketan rice please."

"And for me the Martabak Telor, with Atjar Ketimoen," Tom chimes in.

The waitress writes the order down, "Thank you gentlemen," she picks up the menus, turns and leaves again.

Tom sits himself back, raising his eyebrows, "This is serious isn't it?"

He nods, smiling, "Yeah, hook line and sinker, I'm done for..."

Tom smiles, "Congrats man, I'm so happy for you." Then he looks thoughtful, "Names sound eastern European."

Michael nods, "Yes, they're from Slovakia."

"Oh, that's a beautiful country. How old is she?"

Michael grins, "Twenty three..."

Tom winks, "You scoundrel... Don't tell me she's as good looking as Nicky is."

He gets out his phone, looks up an image of Natasha, then shows Tom.

His eyes widen, "Holy fuck..."

He grins, "Nicky is a beautiful woman, but she can't hold a candle to her, and that goes for both the outside and the inside, especially the inside."

Tom sighs, "Yeah, it really sucked what Nicky did to you."

He nods, "You don't know the half of it."

Tom shakes his head, "I had never thought..," he sighs again, "I can tell you know, I suppose, I have always had feelings for Nicky." Michael raises his eyebrows, Tom raises his hands, "I have never... She was yours. I have always respected that."

Michael shakes his head, "That really sucks man, for you I mean."

Tom shrugs, "Do you know she's going to marry that fucker she cheated on you with?"

His face darkens, "Yeah, she sent me an invitation..."

Tom's eyebrows rise, "Why the fuck would she do that?"

Michael shrugs, "Not because she wants for me to turn up at her wedding anyway."

Tom winces, "That's just mean man, I never thought... What a bitch." He nods, Tom shakes his head, "Enough about Nicky, now tell me how you caught that Slovakian angel of yours." He knows he can trust Tom, so he tells him the entire story. How she and her boyfriend had ended up in Paris a good week before Christmas, and what had happened there. How she had then fled to the Netherlands. How he had found her and Mischka, almost literally in the gutter. How he had then taken them into his home three months ago. And how he then had found out how stunningly beautiful and lovely she was.

When he's finished Tom looks at him for a long time, then smiles softly, "I'm proud of you man." He feels himself blush, Tom reaches out over the table, they clasp hands, "Really man, you did good."

That's when the waitress arrives with their food, they both sit back as she puts their dishes on the table before them. She smiles at them, "Selamat makan! Enjoy your meal!" She leaves again and they both dig in. The food is delicious, as always, and they discuss other topics while they eat.

By the time they've finished it's time to go back to work again, so they say goodbye in front of the restaurant, "See you next month Michael."

He raises his eyebrows, "You're not going to Nicky's wedding?"

Tom smirks, "After everything that happened? I don't think so. Are you going?"

He shrugs, "Maybe, to show off Natasha, show Nicky I got the better end of the deal after all."

Tom grins, "Good plan, and she did that to herself." He nods, they hug, and then they part ways again.

***

Ten minutes after saying goodbye to Michael Tom enters the nondescript building he's working at. The small bronze plaque next to the door says it houses a consultancy, and the lower floor actually does, but that is nothing but a front. The floors above it house a department of the MIVD, the military intelligence and security service. For the outside world he's a consultant specializing in foreign trade, but in reality he works as an analyst specializing in counter terrorism.

He had joined the KMA, the Royal Military Academy, after finishing secondary school. That's where he had first met Michael. After graduating they had both served in the army, in the same unit, and so they had ended up doing a tour in Iraq together. After Iraq Michael had decided to leave the army, and so had he, officially. But while Michael had sought, and found, a civilian job, he himself had joined the MIVD.

Once behind the desk at his small third floor office he starts to dig into his usual work again, but he can't really concentrate on it, because something is nagging at the back of his mind.

Paris, five months back,

he suddenly thinks, then,

No, that would be too much of a coincidence.

Still it is too important to ignore, he brings up the case on his laptop. It had been a request coming from the Israelis, from their military intelligence colleagues at Aman, but the request had originated from either Shin Bet or Mossad. That was unusual, but there had been reasons.

The Israelis had rolled up a terrorist cell, and that cell had been in the final phase of building a 'suitcase nuke', a portable nuclear bomb. The fusion material for the bomb had been traced back to a so called 'Broken Arrow' event, an American nuke gone missing in the sixties. But the special detonators, and some other specialized high tech parts needed, had come from somewhere in the former Soviet Union, probably Ukraine. Mossad had tried to trace those detonators back to the supplier, but the trail had gone cold in Paris, five months ago...

He connects to the Interpol system, looking for killings in Paris, and soon finds what he's looking for; 'Wanted for interrogation, female aged twenty to twenty five, accompanied by young child, probably female, nationality presumed Slovakian.' It fits with Michael's story. There's a video file attached, he downloads it and plays it back. Images of a hotel lobby, a young woman and a young man carrying a child, walking in and out of the lobby a couple of times.

The video freezes a number of times, occasionally when her face is in full view, the quality of the footage isn't great, as usual, but he still recognizes her easily. There's also footage of her entering the lobby without the man, carrying the little girl herself. He watches them wait for the elevator to come down, then enter it after some guys come out. In a reflex he stops the video, reverses a bit, then looks at the time stamp,

It's evening, why the fuck are they wearing sunglasses?

He reruns the scene a couple of times, concentrating on the two guys. They are wearing hoodies, and they look North African, far from strange in Paris. One of them is carrying a sports bag, it makes the sleeve of his hoodie run up his arm a bit, partly revealing a tattoo. He feels the hairs in his neck stand on end, punches up the file that came with the request from Aman. Images of death terrorists, their faces, but also identification marks on their bodies.

He runs through them,

There!

He pulls the frozen video image up too, zooms in on the partly exposed tattoo, then curses loudly. Tom spends the next half hour thinking, looking at how to keep Michael and his girl out of this, but comes up blank.

Fuck.

Still this is too important to ignore, these people have to be stopped, if they aren't, millions of innocent people might die someday. Then a new realization sinks in.

Those Slovaks that hired them will be looking for her, she's the 'loose end' that connects them to those terrorists. They will be looking to have her killed, and her little girl, and Michael will just be in the way, so they'll probably kill him too. He scrolls back to the file header on the Aman file, looks at the contact information. The file came from Shlomo Gabai, he actually knows the old guy; met him a couple of years previously at a symposium in Rome.

***

His eyes drift to the clock, but then he remembers it is just one hour later in Tel Aviv. He takes up the phone, the old fashioned one, and deals a secure connection. It takes a while for the connection to establish, then the phone goes over, to be answered quickly. "Hello Shlomo, this is Tom from the Dutch MIVD, we met a couple of years ago, at a symposium in Rome, remember?"

It stays silent for a moment, then "The Dutch guy with the presentation on the trafficking of stolen military weapons, we had a discussion afterwards, yes, I remember. What can I do for you Tom?"

He thinks for a moment, "I may have a lead for you Shlomo, in the Doombringer case..."

It stays silent for a moment, "You may have a lead?"

"Yes, I may have, some innocent people are involved you see, I don't want to see them end up hurt."

He can hear Shlomo sigh at the other end, 'You know what this is about Tom, you know what the stakes are..."

"Yes, but you got the bad guys, and you got the fusion material stash, so the immediate threat is gone. This is about setting an example, and eliminating a source."

It stays silent for a moment at the other end, then Shlomo answers, "Alright, I'll play, but you know how it is in this business, nothing is guaranteed."

"I want your word on it."

Shlomo sighs, "You have my word on it."

Tom sits himself back, "The stuff came to Paris by courier, from Bratislava. They used a young family, who thought they were going to Paris with a package of money, to exchange for drugs, to smuggle back to Bratislava. They were the erasable link, to be killed at the 'exchange', but your Arab friends only got the boyfriend."

Shlomo's voice sounds harsh, "They chose a young family because they would arouse the least suspicion. How old is the kid?"

"Three years Shlomo."

The Israeli curses loudly at the other end, "Fucking bastards!"

He can only agree, "I'm going to e-mail you a video file Shlomo, at some point you will see two Arabs wearing hoodies and sunglasses exit a lift, one of them is carrying a sports bag. I'm pretty sure those detonators were inside that bag. They left Bratislava three days earlier."

"Okay," Shlomo answers, "Can we have access to the woman? To see if she can come up with some useful info regarding their employer's identity?"

Tom had known the request would come, "No Shlomo, she doesn't even know what she's involved in, and I would like to keep it that way."

The Israeli sounds slightly disappointed, "You don't think there's any trail for them to pick up?"

He had thought of that too, and had already come to the conclusion that if there had been a trail the Slovaks would have come calling already. "No," he says, "I think they are safe, at least for the time being."

"Good," the Israeli says, "Bratislava isn't that big a pond. We'll probably find them without her assistance anyway."

"My thoughts exactly," Tom agrees, "that leaves one thing though."

"Yes?" Shlomo replies.

"I want you guys to contact our French colleagues at the DGSE, have them bury the case, and get her off the French wanted list."

"No problem," Shlomo answers, "We've provided our French buddies with tons of intel over the past years - we have some leverage there."

"Thanks a lot Shlomo," he replies.

He can hear the Israeli chuckle at the other end, "No problem Tom, we owe you one. Oh, and should we find out there's an actual threat towards the woman and her kid, I'll get back to you."

Tom sighs, relieved, "That would be great, this one's close to home Shlomo."

The Israeli sounds serious again, "Yeah, I sort of got that already. We'll be in touch Tom." The connection cuts off, Tom breathes out slowly, putting the phone back in its cradle.

Part Two

Michael wakes to the feeling of someone polishing his morning wood. Six weeks have passed since Natasha slid herself beside him beneath the comforter for the first time. The morning after, little Mischka had interrupted her going down on him, and she had been making up for it, with a passion, ever since. He moans loud as he feels her take him inside, into the warm wetness of her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the helmet, then she takes him deeper, all the way to the back of her throat, lapping at the underside.

She comes up a bit, he feels her swallow down the residue of last night's lovemaking. He can only moan, she goes down again, gags a bit, then pushes her lips down his shaft all the way to the root. His hands have found her head by now, caressing her silky soft hair. He had never asked her to do this, to take him all the way down her throat - she had started doing it all by herself. He feels her throat constrict around his cock, she hums softly, "Ooh fuck," he groans.

Slender fingers curve around his scrotum, starting to massage his balls, then she comes up again. He feels her inhale, her tongue swirls around the head, then she moves down on him again - all the way. Up and down she goes, slowly, but quickly building the fire in his loins. She hums happily, eagerly. He trembles, feeling himself swell inside her vibrating throat. She rises slowly; he has learned by now he doesn't need to warn her he's going to cum. Her tongue swirls around the head again, then concentrates on the sensitive rim.

Michael feels his sperm surge up from his balls, as he explodes inside her mouth, holding back a scream. She softly kneads his balls every time he ejaculates, moaning softly while he fills her mouth with sperm, groaning loudly. He feels her starting to swallow, she always does: the thought makes him cum even harder. When it's over he sinks back in the cushion, moaning softly, his muscles relaxing. Natasha surfaces from below the comforter, licking her lips, looking sweaty, and happy. Her eyes sparkle, "Good morning, naughty boy!"

He grins, "Naughty boy? I did nothing!"

She snuggles up against him, kisses his chest, "You woke me. By poking me in my back with that big cock of yours."

He chuckles, "I was still asleep!" Then pulls her up a bit against him. She looks up at him, smiling. He kisses her on her forehead, then aims lower, for her lips.

She evades him, shaking her head, "No, not after you came in my mouth; you know I don't want that."

He smiles back at her, "I only want to show you how much I love you."

She doesn't budge, crawls up a bit further, moving her head against his, cheek to cheek, "I know you love me Michael - me and Mischka both."

He hugs her close, "Yeah, she's my little girl now."

Natasha sighs, "I'm so glad she bounced back like she did, after that terrible experience in Paris."

"Young kids are resilient," he says.

She lifts her head, locks eyes with him, "It sure helped that you accepted her like you did, as your own, became a second father to her. I love you so much."

They just lay for a time, cuddling, then there's the faint sound of an alarm going off, though it gets silenced quickly. Natasha rolls away from him, onto her back, pulling the comforter up to cover them both. Mischka doesn't need the alarm to wake, she has probably been awake for an hour at least already. The alarm only serves to tell her the ban on entering mummy's and daddy's bedroom has just been lifted. There's the sound of a closing door, little feet on the landing, then the door to the bedroom opens slowly, and in she bounces, clutching her bear against her.

He watches her run up to the foot of the bed, then hop on top, moving up towards them. She eagerly crawls beneath the comforter between them, Natasha hugs her close, he ruffles her hair, "Good morning little pumpkin, did you sleep well?"

She nods enthusiastically, "Yes daddy." She's picking up English fast, he rolls himself towards them, then hugs them both, pecking Mischka on top of her little nose. The little girl coos, then reaches out and pinches his nose.

He knows what she wants, and starts to tickle her. She crows with pleasure, and Natasha joins in, tickling him back. "You too?" he says, and she nods smiling - mayhem results.

***

By the time the three of them have showered, dressed, and munched their breakfast down it is already well past ten. They leave to get the Saturday shopping done as usual, and afterwards they have lunch at home. Then it's back to town again, to get both ladies to the hairdresser, because he wants them to look their best for the wedding party. After receiving that malicious invitation he had been doubtful whether to attend Nicky's wedding or not for weeks, but after his last meeting with Tom, now two weeks ago, he had decided to go, even if it was really to rub his new found happiness in her face.

Once at the hairdresser he watches the young woman turn Natasha's long chestnut hair into a braided work of art, while Mischka sits on his lap. He's amazed at the little girl's patience as she looks on in wonder. When the hairdresser has finished with Natasha it's Mischka's turn; she climbs the salon chair eagerly, and is transformed into this little lady, her blonde curls being braided into the same style as her mother's. When she's finished the hairdresser shows her the result in the mirror, and Mischka beams proudly. "Now don't touch your hair anymore," her mother says, "Or it'll get all messy again."