07.31.06 Avarice - Even the Innocent

I: Monday, July 31, 2006, England - in the Shires, in a forest

Even the innocent must die.

A day's hunting does wonders for one's nerves, for one's soul.

It is a beautiful Summer's day here in the Shires. I am at my wits end, and have only it, and a small flask of scotch to keep me company.

And a rifle.

My prey today is a beautiful young deer, a fawn, I spotted about an hour or so ago.

Amongst the deciduous trees it lurks, eating nimbly at whatever passes its fancy.

Its hide is smooth and beautiful. A light brown, spotted white, antlers partially growing: Bambi indeed.

It will look wonderful in my bedroom, for her Ladyship would not want such an icon hanging in the midst of her London flat.

The chirping birds sound out every few moments as the sun struggles to penetrate the deep bush. If they are warning the deer, I'd advise they do so quickly.

I may be an old man, but my cunning, so I'd like to think, has not abated. Although I do feel a fool dressed up in this hunting gear.

Some J&B later, and I do not feel so foolish.

I take a few steps forward, where the fawn has stopped dead in its tracks.

I huddle over towards a bush and lower my head, silently watching, trying to keep my breathing to a minimum. Although at my age, it might not be such a good idea.

I know it senses danger.

As I have the moment the She Devil entered his life, and has brought me to this point. Jim has been invaluable in keeping me abreast with happenings, although his disappointment regarding his planting of a web camera some weeks back - I am still not quite sure what a web camera is - was palpable. He apparently had hid this object to try and catch out Her and that Paulus fellow in the act, and had found nothing but her napping.

Although that camera captured nothing, I know she has captured much more: his wealth, his heart, his mind, his inner being, his life.

And I know, I know, the worst is yet to come for her, and for him.

The time to end this is near - the sun won't be up much longer.

Even the innocent must die.

Silently I advance on the fawn, which has moved only slightly ahead.

I draw out my rifle again

and take dead aim.

I pull back on the trigger

BANG.

"BLOODY...GODDAMN..."

I pull myself up from out of the bush to see the fawn bound off into the bushes.

I collapsed and stumbled forward, sending a bullet into the ground.

An hour's worth of patience, of calculation, planning, scotch - for naught.

Now I must return to London, my pride shaken, and the confidence in my own body shaken even further.

Can I even do this anymore?

Will I fail and continue to do so?

Only one way to find out.

II: Monday, July 31, 2006, New York City, New York - Daniel Restaurant, 60 E. 65th St.

"He's got Heidi, Paulus."

He looks up with more than interest, as he wipes his mouth and places his napkin back in his lap.

"She's gorgeous," is the first thing he can say, his German accent just accentuating everything he says. It does turn me on so.

So she does to me frankly. Ever since that evening with Tanya, I've had a new found appreciation for the female form.

She did things to me Robert never did or could.

I will watch his match with her with great eagerness and excitement.

"Think your Englishman can win?" He leans back, smugly, his wine glass in hand, sloshing the red wine about.

I bite my lip and look at him deeply, wanting to do him there and now on the table, but I doubt these fucking prudes would appreciate it.

"I don't know. The asshole pushed him to the limit. And she's one of the best. But I think he can do it."

"Oh?"

"He's got me baby...and the little bitch will have to counter us both. And I'm sure I can be," I cross my legs for Paulus, running a hand down my leg, "a bit of a distraction."

The horny son of a bitch didn't take his eyes off me as I crossed them. I giggle.

"So I can see. You know I could not give two shits for the son of a bitch you married...not to be rude Fräulein..."

I laugh, "Don't be sorry, you know I feel the same way."

"Indeed."

He attacks some more of the pasta on his plate as I pick away at a salad I'm not too fond of. Whatever fucker thought putting noodles in a salad is a good idea ought to be shot.

"But," he continues, taking some more red wine in, "I was glad to see that Herr Edwards bleed. He is a cancer in this sport and knows nothing but the sound and wisdom of his own voice."

He's so fucking smart. I blink at him.

"As for Fräu Heidi...she will push him to the brink again. But there will be antics."

Antics?

"This trial series, no?"

Of course. She needs to win a certain number of them...

"Shit," I concede. I push the remainder of my salad away and wait for my main course.

"He better do his damnedest then, otherwise he's going to go down as the worst champion in history."

"Aw." He takes my hand and rubs it. His hands are so warm. "You won't let that happen, no?"

I won't. I fucking won't. He won't ruin my image. I too will push my Robert to the fucking edge. I'll kill him rather than have him embarrass me, and I will have him so fucking ready to disassemble little Heidi that he won't have any choice but success.

I shake my head negatively at Paulus.

"But we have more important things to talk about my love."

He's right again. Like embezzling from the Idiot. Funneling as much of his personal wealth into our accounts as possible.

And guaranteeing my family's succession to the Duchy of Wessex, and wiping out the pitiful Lancastrians off the face of the Earth.

"Of course," I sweetly smile.

"I fear for poor Edward," he relates with feigned concern.

"Me too sweetie," I sigh.

"And I fear for you, having to get pregnant by that English bastard."

"Fuck that, maybe I can do invitro." We laugh.

"But we should move quickly in this matter," his expression turns a bit grave. "He's not going to stay ignorant in the dark forever. He may catch on. And everything may come crashing down to the ground."

That is my ultimate concern.

Edward then should be step one. I recall that dream from months ago...the swimming pool...

...still gives me chills of exhilaration.

"Poor little Eddy..."

Even the innocent must die.