Read Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 02 for Free Online Page B

to
stop.
                “What about college?” she asked.
                 “I’ve
been accepted at a dozen schools,” he replied in perfect mid-Atlantic American
English. “I haven’t made up my mind. I was even considering skipping a
semester, getting away from it all. I’ve even thought about enlisting in the
Marine Corps. I told that to my stepdad once. He said it might look good on a
resume if I want to run for a congressional seat someday. I’ve never forgotten
that.”
                 Janet
still had a bit of trouble keeping up with his fluent English—years earlier she
had been schooled in English as much as he but had lost much of her skill out
of disuse. Still, she understood enough to be amazed—the clarity, the realism,
the precise detail of his story . . . The Academy rarely if ever managed to
teach their students to his degree of authenticity.
                 He
stood, his back toward her. She eyed his tall, youthful, athletic frame—broad
shoulders, thin waist, tight buttocks.
                 It
seemed Andrei Maraklov had so totally immersed himself in the life of Kenneth
Francis James that he had assumed his emotional identity as well as his documented public one. How else could Andrei reel off
intimate, secretive aspects of his— James’—life so naturally? Of one thing she had no doubt: this man could easily
beat the best interrogators, polygraphs, hypnosis or even drugs.
                 Andrei
Maraklov is Kenneth James . . .
                 “But
now I’m on my way to Hawaii,” James/Maraklov continued. “I’m going to take it
easy, maybe raise some hell, maybe do some painting, I don’t know . . .”
                 He
turned toward the bed once again, but she was too caught up in his eerie
transformation to think about having sex with him again. Actually, he
frightened her ... he was a stranger. Uncharacteristically, she clutched the
sheet tight to her breasts.
                 “Cathy
Sawyer gets wet every time she sees me,” he said, a slight smile on his lips.
“I know it. But when we’re alone she won’t touch me.” He moved toward her, and
she flinched.
                 The
smile disappeared, his eyes narrowed. “All right, damn you, you’re like
everyone else.”
                 She
had pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. He seemed to be
frozen in place, his powerful chest rising and falling. As she tried to step
around him, he quickly reached out and grabbed her arm.
                 “Kenneth—”
                 “No,
I’m not leaving and neither are you. Not yet.” He grasped her forearms with two
powerful hands. The sheet fell away from her breasts. He pulled her forearms up
and toward him, drawing her toward him so that she was barely touching the
floor. “I’m going to show you what I did to that bitch Cathy Sawyer the night
before I left. She never showed up for graduation, did I tell you that? They
thought we ran off together, but we didn’t. Poor Cathy ... I wonder what happened
to her . . .”
                 He
is going to kill me, Janet thought. He’s crazy, he’s going to . . .
                 Abruptly
the terrifying grin was replaced by a broad, pleasant smile. His body relaxed
and he let her drop back onto her feet, then planted a playful kiss on her
nose.
                 “Gotcha.”
                 “What?”
Her voice high, edged with fear. “What do you think you are doing?” She said it
in Russian.
                 “Uh
oh, remember, lover, English only is spoken at this academy ...”
                 “I
thought ... I thought you ...”
                 “.
. . were crazy,” he said. His smile was making her even angrier. “I know what
you’re thinking. Every time we’re together you want to hear my little stories
about the American.