Free Surrept by Taylor Andrews Page B

She bites his ear hard enough for him to get the message.
    David winces. "Ow, that hurts, Dana. Jesus. They do not have geishas in Korea, that's Japan, and I'm quite happy with what I have right here at home, as long as you quit biting me."
    She coos, "You weren't complaining last night and this morning about my biting."
    He pulls her close to his neck. "You are a naughty girl, and I love it. When is dinner? It smells great."
    Dana slaps him on the back of his head with the dishtowel. "You sure aren't one for spontaneity are you? You sure know how to kill a moment. Dinner is in twenty-five minutes, King David." She storms into the kitchen.
    He did not mean to offend her. "Honey, I have to get these e-mails out before I go, and I haven't even looked at what has come in all weekend. You have kept me a little busy, you know."
    Dana leans out of the kitchen and responds wickedly sensuous. "News flash, boy toy, you better be prepared to step up after dinner to the tune of seven day's worth, and I mean ready to get busy and surpass all of our previous efforts. And I mean big time, so get to steppin' on those e-mails of yours, because your baby is going to rock your world, so don't count on much sleep, you can do that on the plane. Mr. Nonstop, First Class." She disappears back into the kitchen.
    David types faster and says to himself aloud, "Well, Davie, old boy, it certainly does not suck to be you."
    ***
    That evening Ahmed is reviewing chemical equations and molecule schematics on his laptop. He has been working on his clandestine mission all day. He reviews chemical formulations and is calculating molecule schematic equations when combined. He clicks to the next page and hits print and the new machine on the floor begins to copy his work.
    Ahmed reviews the document and smiles, satisfied that he is finished, creating his masterpiece. Ahmed knows that the man at the university will be pleased with his work. He places the papers in his backpack.
    He looks over at four large plastic bottles on the floor. Two are ammonia and the other is bleach, and there is a bag of large Ziploc freezer bags.
    An audio prompt on his laptop sounds off signaling an instant message has arrived for him. He has never received a message before. He clicks the message icon, it reads: "Thirty-Six Turns Of The Glass."
    Ahmed panics and looks to the bottom of the screen to check the time the message came in, "Sunday seven fifty-nine P.M." He finds a pencil on the table and scrawls on a piece of scratch paper. " Eight A.M . Tuesday," and draws an hourglass next to it.
    Ahmed knows that this will be the only communication he will receive; the time has finally come for him to fulfill his destiny.
    ***
    The next morning a black Lincoln Town car speeds east on Highway Seventy east of Denver through the suburb of Aurora, Colorado. The freeway sign shows arrow transition to the right for Denver International Airport and Pena Boulevard.
    The driver glances in the rearview mirror at his passenger as he makes the turn toward the airport. "We will be there in about twenty-five minutes, Mister Bloomfield. That should give you a good two and a half hours for pre-board screening according to your itinerary, sir, and we should be fine."
    David sits in the back with his shades on and his head is resting on the seat. Dana was not kidding about her pre-trip itinerary last night. David lifts his head to see where they are at and realizes the hassle he is about to experience at the airport. "We should be fine? I get to stand in line for over two hours, in a human cattle drive with a bunch of pissed off people, and have some knick-knack rifle through my stuff. And then, some TSA person is going to look at me like I'm some Mook, who is trying to get over on them. Fanfriggintastick." He lays his head back with dread.
    They arrive at the international terminal and the driver rushes to retrieve David's luggage from the trunk. David reaches for his carry-on bag and then his wallet as