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A drift of smoke came through the window. Its acrid smell evidence of the disaster unfolding outside.Bob struggled to his feet. The Africans spread out searching the farmhouse. The couple could hear glass breaking the tearing sound of wood. Tears rolled down Victoria's cheeks. Bob stared defiantly at the leader of the thugs.'Who else is here?''No one.'Bob's words were defiant. Sounds of destruction filled the air from both inside the farmhouse and the surrounding lands. There was an armed police presence just down the road, but he knew better than to expect any help from that quarter.The African grinned at Bob. He knew full well there were others here. His reports had been clear on that though who the visitors were he did not know. His men would search the farm and surrounding land very thoroughly.He picked up a picture from the floor. One that had been swept from the nearby dressor. He studied the picture. He looked at Bob, and studied the picture further.'Then who are these Bob?'. But, gazing at the bishounen across the table, she felt the boy in her mind rise up in a glorious panic. With this one, she would have to remain in control, he expected her to be a girl. She carefully blended the boy that wanted out with the girl who wanted a smooth evening, and came away a geeky, clumsy, self-effacing girl with oddly smooth and erotic undertones. Yes, now she was prepared. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. She had looked perplexed for several minutes, and he had become concerned that he’d done something wrong. He was as bad as the boy in her head. She smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it, Chryse. Just logistics of some totally unrelated things. I need to relax and stop thinking about work.’ It was a lie, yes, but far easier than trying to explain. He shrugged, puzzled, and went back to the plate of Capellini a’la Romana she had made for him. It was a modest meal — Italian food and some rolls, but she’d made it herself, and was fairly proud of it. There was nothing she wanted more.
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