MISSING SCENE FROM POL

(This is what I have, where it starts...)

No dial tone. At four she made herself a sandwich and sat on a stool at the counter. A new

but equally somber announcer was droning on about the latest drive-by. Men, women, and

children were shown lying in their own blood. A bawling woman held a bullet-riddled body

to her bosom.

At five-fifteen the roar of aircraft drew Alice to the patio. Four jets were streaking in low

over Tecala City. They banked in tight formation, veering to the south, and she was amazed

when one of the pilots launched a missile at a hilltop to the southwest. Smoke spewed in a

thin trail, the missile flashing to its target in less time than it took her to blink. On the hill,

a fireball erupted in a roar.

Shaken, Alice went back in. She needed company, needed someone to talk to. Dashing to

the front door, she threw the bolt and headed across the street to Eliodoro's and Norma's.

No one else was out and about. The street was deserted, the entire block as empty as a

graveyard. To the west a dark plume of smoke spiraled into the clouds.

Alice hammered on their front door with her fists, her skin prickling. No one answered.

No one came to admit her. Venturing to their carport, she discovered their station wagon

was gone.

A noise out in the street startled her, the rasp of metal on metal. Every nerve jangling,

Alice surveyed the block from end to end, but saw no one. She headed for the Scorpion

House. A low growl from an adjoining roof demonstrated she wasn't the only living

thing left. The guard dog at the next home had bared its fangs, hackles raised. But was

it growling at her or someone else? Unwilling to linger to find out, she darted inside

and slammed the door.

Alice felt more alone than she ever had before. She tried the phone for the hundredth

time. The lights kept flickering. Static spiked the TV, and the image broke apart every

few seconds. As near as she could tell, the president of Tecala was being interviewed

by a swarm of reporters, homegrown and foreign. Government troops were seen

blasting away at emplacements on a mountain. A phalanx of police stormed a building

held by the E.L.T.

"Where's Terry when I need him?" Alice said aloud. He had never left her by herself

for so long. The possibility that he had been hurt, or worse, speared fear deep through

her. She paced in front of the kitchen counter, watching image after horrifying image

fill the screen. So much bloodshed. So much carnage.

On an impulse, Alice went up to the second floor and gazed out over the city from her

bedroom window. It was worse than she had imagined. Eight or nine fires blazed. Smoke

rose from a score of others. A cacophony of sirens keened like demented specters.

Alice sat on the edge of her bed, her hands in her lap, feeling small and insignificant,

neglected, sorry for herself, and, she admitted, very scared. Frightened to death that

the fighting would spread to her neighborhood, and that she would be trapped in the

thick of it.

The sun dipped over the rim of the earth and night made its advent.

Again the lights flickered, only now they faded completely. Alice looked up, waiting for

them to come back on, but they didn't. She went back downstairs. The TV screen was

blank, the house as silent as a tomb. Remembering that there used to be a flashlight in

one of the kitchen cabinets, she groped around for it without success.

The dog next door began barking. Alice walked to the patio door and looked toward the

neighbor's roof, but she couldn't see a thing. The dog was barking like mad, snarling and

snapping as it if had gone berserk. She started to open the door, but froze when the dog

gave a high-pitched yelp and was quiet.

Alice saw someone slinking along the edge of the roof nearest the Scorpion House, as if

looking for a way down. Panic-struck, she backed away from the glass, whirled, and raced

to the front door. She needed Terry, needed him and the safety he provided more than

she had ever needed anyone. But when she jerked the door open, she paused. She didn't

have a vehicle. Sandro had taken the jeep, and the police had never returned Peter's

Volkswagen, claiming it was evidence.

It would take an hour to reach Terry's hotel on foot, an hour adrift in a bloodred sea of

mayhem.

From the back of the house came a sharp scraping sound.

In a rush of adrenaline Alice was out the door, fleeing into the fire-splashed nightmare of

a city in the throes of self-destruction. She didn't look back. She just ran and ran and ran,

and when she was so tired she could scarcely stand, she pressed herself to run some more.

Only one thought was on her mind: She had to reach Terry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terry Thorne had taken three cold showers that day, and it didn't help.

All afternoon Terry wrestled with a desire he could no longer deny. That morning in the

alley, when their bodies were pressed together, it had been all he could do to concentrate,

all he could do to keep from taking Alice into his arms and kissing her with all the passion

pent up inside of him.

She was a client's wife. As taboo as taboo could get. In the K&R trade, there were certain

things a negotiator never, ever did, and up there at the top of the list was becoming

romantically involved with the client or any of the client's immediate family.

It just wasn't done.

But to Terry's profound unease, knowing that and convincing his heart were two different

things. He couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop envisioning the two of them

locking in a passionate embrace. So he had stayed put. He had spent the afternoon in his

hotel room, taking cold showers and pacing and sometimes lying on his back on the sofa

and staring at the ceiling fan.

Terry wasn't unduly worried for her safety. He'd kept the radio on all day, tuned to a

station that broadcast news updates every fifteen minutes. The fighting wasn't anywhere

near the area where she lived, and the bombings were all strategic points: government

buildings, police and fire stations, major intersections--anywhere the blasts would disrupt

services and communications and sow widespread panic.

Now night gripped the city, and still Terry couldn't bring himself to go see her. He was

afraid of what he might do. He was even more afraid of how she might respond. So he

refused to budge, even when the lights went out.

The Intercon Hotel was one of the finest in the city. Along with a four-star restaurant

and an Olympic-sized swimming pool, it also boasted its own generator. The lights were

only out a few minutes before they flared to life again.

Terry placed a forearm over his eyes and attempted to doze off, but he was too wound up

to sleep. When the phone rang half an hour later, he was grateful. Anything to take his

mind off her. Hoping it was Dino, he got up and stepped to the desk.

It couldn't be Wyatt. Their English friend was no longer in-country. They had seen him

off the day before. Or, rather, packed him off, since he was too besotted to stand, and they

had to carry him onto the plane.

"Thorne here."

"It's me. Hey."

Alice. "Hey," Terry said, the mere sound of her voice rekindling his desire to a fever

pitch. She sounded out of breath and scared.

"Maria never showed up today and neither did Sandro. Norma and Elio never came back

from their weekend trip. The phone went out, but I kept trying to call."  Alice was

spitting words out like a Gatling gun. "The lights kept dimming. The power went off.

And then, honest to God, I think someone killed the dog next door. He was going nuts

and I--"

"Is Cinta there with you?" Terry interrupted, inwardly cursing his reluctance to go

over to the Scorpion House.

"I'm not at the house. I left. I was completely freaked and I--"

"Where are you?" Terry cut her off again, afraid she was stranded in the middle of the

city, where some of the heaviest gun battles had occurred.

"I'm here."

"Here where?" Terry asked. The obvious eluded him.

"Downstairs."

Terry looked for his shirt. He had taken it off and thrown it somewhere. "Okay. Hang

on. I'll be right down."

"Forget it," Alice said, "I'm coming up."

She hung up before Terry could talk her out of it.

"Bloody hell," he said. He had to convince her to go home. He would drive her. It was

safer for both of them. As he moved toward a pile of clothes, the lights went out again.

The hotel generator had run out of fuel.

Forgetting about a shirt for the moment, Terry hunted for his flashlight. Alice would need

it if she were coming up the stairs. Suddenly a thought hit him, and he sped out the door

and down the hallway. He was taking for granted the fact that she wouldn't use the elevator,

not with all the power outages. But he had to remember she'd never been in a situation

remotely resembling strife-torn Tecala. She might not know what was safe to do and what

wasn't.

"Alice?" Terry said, playing the flashlight beam over the empty corridor. "Alice? Where

are you?"

"Terry?"

Her tiny cry brought Terry to the bank of elevators, their control panels as dark as

everything else. "Which one are you in?"

"Here! This one!" Alice thumped the door. "I'm stuck! It won't open!"

Her fright was understandable. Terry set the flashlight on the floor and applied his

fingertips to the crack. The door parted a hair, but that was all. "Are you okay?"

"I can't see a thing. God, what a night! The whole city is out." Alice was pressed to

the crack, her breath fluttering over his fingers. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stay there. I

just couldn't do it."

"You have nothing to apologize for. Hang on." Terry braced his feet against the doorframe,

bunched his shoulder muscles, and pulled. His sinews rippled and bulged but nothing

happened. Locking his knees for added leverage, he exerted himself to his utmost, his

teeth clenched, his head thrown back. Inch by gradual inch, the door opened. Her hand

fell on his, but still he strained, his back arched, his fingers about to crack.

The next second the door jerked wide, allowing Alice to squeeze through. Terry let go

and straightened to comfort her, but she had other ideas. Just like that she was in his

arms, kissing him, embracing him, as starved for him as he was for her. He resisted for

all of three seconds. Then he was matching her ardor, his hands exploring her body, his

need overwhelming, a tidal wave irresistible in its intensity.

Terry hooked an arm under Alice's legs and lifted. Their mouths fused. He headed for his

suite and kicked the door shut behind them. The gunfire outside, the explosions, the fires--

none of it mattered anymore. There were just the two of them alone in the dark, and there

was no denying their need.

The bed was unmade. Terry gently deposited her on the crumpled sheet, and she pulled

him down beside her, her hot lips roving over his face, his throat, his shoulders. He

reciprocated, his hands everywhere, exploring, fondling, caressing. She yielded, a rose

opening its petals. And when, after an eternity, their two bodies became one, she cried

out in the flush of ecstasy.

Cast adrift from time and space, they soared to pinnacles of mutual release.

Neither wanted the night to ever end.

~~~~~~~~~~

Terry came awake, conscious of being stared at. He rolled over in bed and saw Alice in

the chair by the desk. Her hair was wet and had been combed out, the comb still in her

hand. He had the impression she'd been watching him for quite a while.  "Morning."

"You're a good sleeper," Alice smiled half-heartedly. "I took a shower. I've been trying

not to wake you."

"The power is back on?"  Terry sat up and saw Peter's dossier on the desk where he had

left it lying open, Peter's photograph on top.

"Yup."  Alice looked at the photo, too, her guilt as blatant as her despair.

Terry swung his legs over the side of the bed and retrieved his underwear. "Are you

all right?"

"I don't know. What happens now?"

"I don't know either," Terry admitted. He had guilt of his own to contend with, a sense

of shame at having taken advantage of a vulnerable woman.

"Have you ever done this before?"

Terry wasn't offended. She had every right to ask. "No. It's sort of the cardinal sin."

"I guess we're breaking all the rules, huh?" Alice listlessly ran the comb through her

hair. "I've been sitting here, thinking how it would be if we'd just met. If it wasn't like

this. If it was just, you know--"

"Somewhere else?"

"Another place, another time, that sort of thing," Alice said. "What would that have been

like? If I was just in my life and you came through. Like we could know that, right?" She

turned the photo of Peter over. "This is just so not like my life, that's all. Nothing that's

happened is like my life anymore. So I'm a little lost here. Maybe for you it's not that

confusing. I mean, this is your life, right?"

Terry snagged his pants. "Is that what you think?"

"No. I don't know," Alice gestured. "And I'm not saying that I did it because I was

stressed out, or I was drunk, or it was late or anything. I'm not trying to let myself off

the hook. Because this was me. I know that. You never would have made a pass. I know

that, too. So obviously I'm just--"  She caught herself. "Oh, God. I don't know what I

am anymore."

Her sorrow, her confusion, ate at Terry like acid. In one respect she was wrong. He was

as much at fault as she was. He could have stopped it if he'd really wanted to. "Don't be

so hard on yourself. None of us are saints."  Terry stood. "And we're not hurting Peter.

That's not what this was about."

Alice's eyes brimmed with tears. "I can't stop thinking about him. I can't help it. Where

is he right now, do you suppose?"

Terry said the one thing that would soothe her guilt. "It sounds to me as if he's right here."

Alice smiled, sniffed, and rose. "I was looking for a hair dryer. Don't you have one?"

"They can send one up. I'll call down." Terry watched her pad into the bathroom and

close the door. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he dared not voice his

feelings. To do so would mean destroying a marriage. It was best for everyone involved

if he erected a wall around his emotions until the whole affair was over.

When the hair dryer was delivered by a chambermaid, Terry handed it to Alice. Ten

minutes later Alice emerged, so breathtakingly beautiful than an ache formed in

Terry's chest at the thought she could never be his.

Alice couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, which stung him severely. Terry walked

her down to the line of taxis always waiting for fares in front of the hotel. She finally

looked at him as she was about to climb in, her expression inscrutable. Instead of

hugging or kissing him, she clasped his hand and gently squeezed.

"Thank you."

"For what? Losing control?"

"For being there when I needed you most."

Alice slid in and the cabby whisked her away. Terry stood watching until the cab was

lost amid the flow of traffic; then he inhaled deeply and turned to go back in.

Tecala City lay quiet under the bright glare of a new day. The sirens were stilled, the

smoke was gone. Both sides in the conflict were taking a breather. But it wouldn't

last long.

Terry showered and shaved and made a few calls to local contacts. He had to reestablish

communications with the E.L.T., and by sending out feelers he was optimistic they would

contact him. That afternoon he went to the Scorpion House. Alice remained reserved

around him, and when he went into the radio room and fired it up, she didn't tag along.

For hours he tried to reach Marco, vainly trying frequency after frequency, saying, "This

is Tio calling Marco. Do you copy?"  It was a lost cause.

That night Terry couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, flushed with vivid images of Alice,

of their passionate lovemaking. He craved more. Several times he sat up and reached for

the phone, but he couldn't bring himself to dial her number.

Toward dawn Terry finally dozed off. He slept until nine. Still unable to keep Alice out

of his mind, he donned his swimming trunks, threw a towel over his shoulders, and headed

for the Olympic-size pool. He hoped an hour of exercise would help since cold showers

were obviously overrated.

Terry had the pool pretty much to himself. Hostilities had yet to resume, but most people

were staying off the streets and out of public places. Martial law had been put into effect,

and there was a ten PM curfew.

Terry dived in and began swimming laps. The mere act of doing something physical felt

good. He concentrated on stroking cleanly, smoothly. For a while he was able to shut Alice

out and forget about the mess he had made of the whole affair. For a while he was spared

the guilt that had been gnawing at him since the morning before. But only for a short

while. On his third lap, as he came up after swimming the entire length of the pool

underwater, he saw Dino waiting for him, holding a towel.