Heart of S.T.O.N.E.

By Tess O'Connor

Geoff Trevor had once been a Navy SEAL and CIA operative; a life he left to become a professor of physics and mathematics as well as a highly successful entrepreneur. Then he meets Carrie Courtney and her two beautiful children. And Geoff's only weakness is children. He knows from experience that that weakness could be fatal. Not for him. He would, unfortunately, have to live with it.
Carrie Courtney, Professor of English and Music Appreciation at the same elite Long Island college, is very wealthy in her own right. Carrie has a mission of her own: Keep Her Children Alive. Something she couldn't do for her husband. Up against STONE, she will do anything to insure their future. And does. If it means using Geoff, so be it. He might have been the one who killed her husband, after all. And for himself, Geoff wants nothing to do with STONE or Carrie. For her sake, and of course, her children.
Geoff and Carrie are manipulated into a relationship by a bogus ploy of STONE's leader and become involved in a convoluted web of deception, not only from STONE but each other, until they decide to pool their talents and resources and fight back. They are thwarted at every turn, involving friends and relatives, all the way to the White House.
Geoff, who never wanted love because of the inherent danger, doesn't even realize he is in love until it's too late to turn back. He loves with a passion he never knew existed, let alone possessed. Carrie accepts and returns that love and passion, which she too didn't want at this critical time in her life. A love they both fear can only lead to disaster; emotions they share that cannot be denied; and a force so evil that it has to be destroyed; all put a value on life that Geoff promises Carrie will not be taken away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tess O'Connor
• Release date: Nov 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301825141

Tess O'Connor

Tess is a graduate of Indiana University in Psychology and Sociology. She has lived all over the country, now residing in Salt Lake City, Utah. She is the mother of four children, all of whom had a contribution to the series be it advertising, research, art, or computer skills. Her sister was the constant force to finally getting the book published. Tess began writing when she was a little girl, mainly scripts for her favorite TV shows. After college she even submitted some of those with favorable results, but no actual broadcast. She turned to narrative after reading some favorite authors; Robert Ludlum, William Diehl and Trevanian, wanting to write in that genre with a female voice. Other favorite authors include Jeffrey Archer, Ken Follett, Diana Gabaldon, Judith McNaught and JD Robb.

Book preview

HEART OF S.T.O.N.E.

by

Tess O'Connor

In this first book, Geoff and Carrie meet at a Fall student/faculty dance to introduce the new school year. Unbeknownst to Geoff, Carrie has joined the faculty of this elite Long Island college - and he isn't happy about it. Had he known she was even being considered, he would have denied her appointment, which had nothing to do with her qualifications. Geoff tries to distance himself, but of course has no control. He never did.

Carrie has her own agenda. Find out who killed her husband and protect her family above all else. She applies for the position of English Professor on the recommendation of an acquaintance in the CIA. She knows Trevor was also with the CIA and if it means using him to accomplish her goal, so be it. While she admires and begins to like Geoff, her children's welfare supersedes any loyalty she might have to him.

The two develop a strained friendship and mutual respect until all hell breaks loose. Carrie is attacked (more than once) and Geoff fears she is jeopardizing her entire family. He knows who is responsible and forms a tentative alliance with Carrie to thwart STONE and its leader.

From New York to Washington, from the CIA to the White House, Geoff and Carrie begin what will become a long, convoluted road to the Heart of STONE.

Prologue

I'll be a sonovabitch, said Phil Savage with his head buried in his newspaper.

Again? asked his friend, not yet bothering to glance from his own reading of the financial page. What's the matter....Wrigley getting lights? It wasn't the first or the last time that idea had been proposed and with every announcement, Phil objected vehemently. When it did happen several years later, Phil was personally affronted. He was a romantic despite his profession and Geoff ribbed him about the contrast. Geoff didn't think Wrigley Field should have lights either, but he wasn't as passionate as his friend, in more ways than lighting a baseball diamond.

They sat back in their chairs as the waitress in the Bitter End, a cozy Greenwich bar, placed their drinks in front of them. Careful, Sandy, Trevor cautioned with a wink. He's gonna be a sonovabitch today.

He stiff you for the tab again, Geoff, she asked.

How'd you know? He gave her one of his heart-stopping grins.

'Cause he paid last week.

Thanks, luv, Phil said not interested in the banter. His mind was on the article in the paper. Geoff hadn't read that section yet, having just gotten off a plane.

Wrigley Field, Geoff confided to Sandy. She nodded her understanding and left for the next table.

You remember Steve Courtney, don't you? Phil asked Geoff.

Vaguely. And to avoid further questioning, asked, They finally clear him?

They both knew the probability of that. Why do you ask such dumb questions?

'Cause my IQ’s preceded by a decimal point, Geoff shot back. You went to his funeral didn't you?

Yeah, Phil nodded. And if his wife doesn't have enough shit coming down on her with his being killed and then labeled a traitor, he looked across at Geoff, which, of course, they didn't neglect to include in this wonderful piece of journalism, he spat, her little girl's in the hospital.

I'm sure you're going to tell me why. Trevor tried not to sound too interested, and succeeded. Inwardly, his stomach pounded, but not so Phil or anyone else would notice. Although Phil was a trusted friend, he was still with the Agency and as vulnerable as anyone else in life. He also didn't like the Agency being referred to as, The Company as many called it. Too pretentious. And Trevor was anything but pretentious.

Details are sketchy, but from what the kid's brother says, someone nearly ran her over. Didn't even see her. Her brother pushed her out of the way but shoved her into a brick wall and knocked her out.

Maybe he's lying and wanted to knock off his sister.

Phil chuckled. You're an asshole, Trevor.

Usually.

Poor kid probably feels like shit.

Probably has a helluva headache.

Phil snickered. The brother. Won the war but lost the battle.

Unless she dies.

The answer I'd expect from a mathematician. Says she's stable and probably be released tomorrow.

That's why the brother feels like shit.

You're hopeless. Phil said laughing and threw out another epithet at his friend.

So's your crusade for Wrigley Field. He'd learned enough.

I hope and bet it rains the night they do it. It did.

Sandy came to the table again. Another round?

No thanks, darling, Phil answered. I gotta be getting home.

Geoff reached for his wallet and extracted a twenty. Oh Geoff, Sandy said. You'll never believe it. You know that foundation, FYF, you told me about? A company known as Future.

Um hm. It was a children's foundation that funded scholarships, children's hospitals, underprivileged children's housing, camps, and nearly every organization connected with children. Its theme song was, You'll Never Walk Alone by the Righteous Brothers. During a fund raising campaign, a sixty-second spot focusing on children striving for a better place featured that song in voice over sung by Geoff Trevor. It raised a record one million dollars for the organization in a twenty-four hour period.

I sent my son's scholarship application to them and he got it! Sandy was so excited that she pocketed the twenty. A full scholarship to the high school and college of his choice.

Good for him, Geoff smiled and held out his hand for the change.

Oh, sorry. And she was. She reached in her pocket, but added, I like it better when Phil isn't a sonovabitch.

Geoff and Phil laughed as she handed him the change and left the table. Trevor took the ten and left her four dollars. You're such a tight bastard, Trevor, Phil teased.

That's almost 67 goddamn percent. What's tight about that?

So if the bill were...

Sixty, would I leave forty? Geoff finished the progression. Hell no. Probably twenty-five and there's nothing tight about that either. He put the ten back in his wallet.

What's that ten going to do for you? Rather, would you like to know what it could do for her?

Not really. Trevor stood and Phil followed him towards the door.

Ignoring him, Phil went on. It could be a steak dinner for her and her kid. Or more likely a pair of shoes for him at some schlock house.

Trevor snickered. Jesus Christ, Phil, you're breaking my heart.

Savage grinned. Thought so. Trevor chuckled. Most knew that Trevor contributed to FYF (no one knew what the initials meant), but only one other person, and not Phil Savage, knew that Geoff Trevor was Future.

Trevor went home and made two phone calls. First as a parish priest calling to learn of six-year old Molly Courtney's condition. A slight concussion. She would stay in the hospital overnight for observation. His next call was to his boss. He avoided a meeting because he didn't want much significance placed on his interest. Ignoring it would have the same effect. Was it you or Rhinehart?

A little amateurish don't you think?

Same question.

Maybe someone's trying to do what you should have done.

I told you - I want no part of that.

You may not have a choice.

My choice is as follows: Lay off or I'll kill the whole goddamn family.

Both knew he meant it.

Chapter One

In life there are meetings

Which seem like fate.

Owen Meredith

He had never had a moral sense of right and wrong. Just a logical one - an eye for an eye - like the gun in his hand. Morality didn’t exist in his framework in the accepted manner that it did in the general population. Not much else existed in the genre of social codes and mores. STONE did that to him. That was not the reason he hated STONE. He had been used. Others had been used. And no one had any recourse for equal retribution which was his motto, and one reason for the gun he carried.

He was not a vindictive man in the sense that vindication often required an emotional human element which, throughout his life he had not possessed. He was programmed not to love, not to hate, not to feel - and programmed well. But something went wrong. He loved children and dogs. In his opinion, they were honest. He was indifferent to everything and nearly everyone else. People in his life, especially women - of which there were many - confused this indifference with an abject coldness. It excited some. The ones it didn’t, didn’t matter.

He saw the building in Gramercy Park with all its contradictions known only to a select few. It was an imposing structure in an area known as The Block Beautiful with its various styles of architecture, this one a stuccoed remodel in the early 20th Century by Frederick Sterner. The façade, the furnishings of the Renaissance period exuded a stately class. The modern conveniences for invading one’s privacy such as hidden microphones, well-camouflaged video devices, skin sensitive chairs for detecting the slightest alteration in body temperature and perspiration, the GOLD (Gem Ophthalmic Lie Detector), and SARD (Sodium Amytol Resisting Drug) were the antithesis of its obvious projection. The man inside that house was its most blatant contradiction; yet his outward and elegant manner and appearance was as false and misleading as the house itself. This man he actually hated.

Trevor had a clear picture of that man’s face and was disturbed by his feeling of hatred. He usually did not show the signs of such a feeling. But the gun in his hand, pointed directly at the man’s heart, gave him a feeling of peace he had never known. It had to be done. He looked dispassionately at this face and saw it disappear from his mind. An extraneous force had caused it. One outside this recurrent dream. For the briefest moment he couldn’t identify the disruption, then recognized a familiar voice. One he liked. One to which he attached the label "friend’. One of his few.

It had not always been that way. There was a period when Professor Carol (Carrie) Courtney would never have casually entered Professor Geoffrey Trevor’s office, smacked him on the backside and said, Up Van Winkle, time’s a wastin’.

As a matter of fact, Carol Courtney, Ph.D. of English and Music and Full Professor of both, was initially contemptuous of Geoffrey Trevor, Ph.D. of Applied Mathematics and Physics. On one point they did agree, however. They considered their Ph.D.’s just another few thousand dollars worth of paper and rarely, if ever, used the title, doctor. Professor was more acceptable. They had earned their degrees, worked damned hard for them. But after all, a hooker works equally hard at her job and doesn’t call herself, ‘Hooker Hannah’. Admittedly the analogy was trite, but it served its purpose when Carrie explained to Geoff her reason for not using the title - at a level he could appreciate.

Carrie probably would never have spoken more than a greeting to Geoff if it hadn’t been for STONE (Security Triad of National Emendation). Must have taken hours to come up with the words to fill the acronym, she thought. The mentality of the organization was represented by the individuals within its hallowed walls. Each person’s name - code name - was a precious or semi-precious stone. The Director’s name, logically, was Diamond, the ‘headstone’. Under him were the next degrees of hardness such as emerald, ruby, sapphire, and included semi-precious stones. The organization’s first director had an obsession with stones and lived and worked around that fixation. No first names, no Mr., Miss, Mrs., or Ms. Consequently, Ruby or Pearl could be a man, and Peridot or Bloodstone could be a woman. The Triad of the organization, known as GEM was self-explanatory. STONE had three functions: Government; state, national and local police forces including all military branches; Espionage; all intelligence organizations such as CIA, NSA, FBI, NATO, and Military Intelligence; and Mitigation; assassinations and mediations which included all of the above. And Geoffrey Trevor.

There was no record of this organization anywhere and leaks or defections were dealt with severely, usually by death, depending on the degree of infraction. Draftees were generally taken from college campuses. Every recruit was at least a Phi Beta Kappa, Rhodes Scholar, and/or MENSA with an average IQ of 150 indicating the elite and small membership. All members were ruthless, guiltless, ‘abnormally’ stable human beings. None of them was married or engaged in sentimental or, heaven forbid meaningful relationships. Friendships did exist outside the organization, however, but close friends were uncommon and rarely included more than a single person, and generally of the same sex. Trust within the organization was paramount, but this did not necessitate friendship. No one vied for another’s job or position because each job was specialized and there was no class structure. There were fifty-two (facets in a diamond) people in this little society and only that number knew of STONE’s existence. But not even the members themselves knew all of the other members. This was for damage control on the off chance one was broken or turned. Several of STONE’s people doubled for other intelligence agencies, particularly the CIA. Many solved cases of these units were unexplainable; but considering the satisfaction guaranteed, were rarely questioned. The members also knew who the next ‘headstone’ would be - Geoffrey Trevor. Other than Diamond himself, Trevor was the only one who knew the other fifty-one people in STONE, including himself.

Whatimizit? Geoff asked through a labored yawn as he stretched from head to toe, waking every nerve and muscle in his body, although he always woke instantly and completely.

Carrie was sitting on the edge of his couch watching this display. It’s 4:45. Time for that monthly-all-campus-informal-faculty-coffee-chit-chat, she rattled off without taking a breath and proud of herself for having done it. It was actually a monthly staff meeting they had downgraded and both hated. To Carrie, fond of alliteration, it was a preening, posturing, and (self) promoting political waste of time. To Geoff, not given to alliteration, it was a bull-shit-chat waste of time.

Geoff put his arms behind his head not intending to move. Play nooky with me?

Geoffrey! She slapped his abdomen and got a responding grunt and seductive grin.

I’ll settle for hooky then.

That grin almost made her reconsider ‘nooky’. We skipped the last four. It might behoove us to see if we’re still employed.

Tell you something… he began.

I know. You don’t care, she finished for him and mussed his thick nearly black hair.

Not one given to looks or vanity, Geoff ignored the mussing but went on with his thought. My exact words are…

She stopped him again, this time with her hand over his mouth. I know your exact words.

He did the natural thing and licked her palm assuming she would recoil. She did and he said his piece. Prude. Stop interrupting me.

Then come. She knew it as soon as she said it. And he wouldn’t pass it up.

He raised his brows. All by myself? She rolled her eyes and drew a laugh from Geoff. Carrie wasn’t embarrassed, just annoyed that she was careless. He sat up swinging his legs over the side of the couch knocking her to the floor. It was routine. Carrie rested her arm on the couch and her chin on her hand.

Geoffrey, we go through this every month…

This time he interrupted. And you always end up there on the floor and we both agree to skip the shit-chat and run off together. So let’s dispense with the next few lines of dialogue and get the hell out of here. Take the kids to see ET. He got up, took her hand, and pulled her to a standing position. You climb out of your hole today? he asked noticing she was taller than usual. Carrie was an even five feet to his six-two. He looked down at her shoes. Jesus, how do you walk in those things?

Not well, but they make me feel superior. She measured herself against him, at the same time wiping the hand he had licked on his Egyptian cotton shirt. He just grinned at her ploy but chuckled at her comment. Carrie had never had an identity crisis in her life. Geoff put his arms around her waist. One of these days, Carol Courtney, you’re going to come crawling to me on those short, but perfect legs of yours and I’m going to turn you down flat. He grinned an added, Perhaps not so flat.

She ignored the ‘short but perfect’ grammar correction which was, after all, a compliment to her, and went straight to, You my dear Trevor, would be satisfied with knotty pine.

Ooo, painful visual. He winced and went to his adjoining bathroom to splash water on his face throwing back, Maybe I will come all by myself. He looked in the mirror and felt a peculiar warmth at her image behind him.

Hung over? Carrie asked although she had never seen him drunk.

At this time of day?

You didn’t seem to know the time of day.

Geoff wiped his face with a hand towel and eyed his friend. And there was a time you wouldn’t give it to me.

Nor you me. She looked at those eyes she once termed as unreadable depths of cobalt. Now they were a little softer, still deep, still a beautiful cobalt, and still unreadable. Most of the time. But there were times…

They smiled at each other in the mirror, reminiscent and guarded smiles. It was something they rarely discussed until it became necessary. It was impossible and not of their making. Each secretly hoped that one day it would be over, but it had already lasted three years and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. Looking at each other, they both seemed to be remembering when they first met.

Fall semester opened with a faculty-student dance. Trevor showed up, Tan, beautiful and alone, a colleague told Carrie.

You’re right, Jesse, Carrie said, not bad. Definitely an understatement for the specimen who had just entered. Just your requisite tall dark and handsome god, Carrie said lightly. She didn’t feel light. This man could control her destiny.

A walking advertisement for testosterone, Jesse agreed.

But is he smart? Carrie joked. So that’s the infamous Geoff Trevor. Slow easy breath.

I can’t believe you’ve never met. You’re in the same stratosphere of society.

Big stratosphere. I know of him, of course. And we have mutual friends. And she blushed at the memory of what one of those mutual friends had told her of him.

Across the room Geoff was recovering from having seen Carrie. You know her?

Who? Geoff asked a colleague, Ross Caruthers.

Carol Courtney.

No, who’s Carol Courtney? My worst nightmare.

The ghost I thought you had just seen.

My ghost just went to the head. Excuse me a minute, will you, Ross? He left for the restroom and straight to the sink. Jesus Christ, Ffoeg, what the hell is she doing here, and what the fuck do I do now? he asked his faithful alter ego.

"Take two breaths and call me in the morning. Evaluate first. Go."

Trevor joined the dance, glanced around the room nodding and greeting people. Find your ghost, Geoff?

Hunh? He turned to Caruthers. Oh, yeah. Wrong ghost. But I could have sworn… He shook his head in wonder. The eyes go first. He looked out on the dance floor and smiled as Carrie did a pirouette.

They’re working pretty well now, Ross observed.

She’s good. Who is she? New grad student? All logical questions.

That’s Carol Courtney.

There’s that name again. New faculty isn’t she? He was angry but didn’t show it. Trevor usually had major input on hiring any faculty. Why not her?

Yes. English and Music, Caruthers was saying.

Doesn’t look old enough. Forever petite, forever young, he thought.

Our age. Geoff let it drop. Caruthers was five years Trevor’s senior. Well, your age, he added and Geoff smiled. He chuckled when he saw Carrie laugh at herself for a move she was trying to learn from a student. Great gams, he said. She was in a simple blue paisley skirt with solid blue matching silk blouse. It moved freely as she danced. She’s actually having fun, he thought and felt a twinge he couldn’t identify. He turned his attention elsewhere. Enough of Carol Courtney for now.

Caruthers wouldn’t let him forget. Goddamn matchmaker, Trevor thought when he turned at the sound of his name being called. Mrs. Carol Courtney, I’d like you to meet Geoff Trevor. He noted the short pixie auburn hair that only she made classic. Carrie took his hand. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Geoff. You can do this.

Pleasure’s all mine. She reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.

Not entirely, but you may claim half if you’d like. I know that voice, she thought.

He laughed sincerely, Thank you, and bowed slightly. I saw you dancing and you looked as if you were having a good time.

She tilted her head to the side, a gesture he would come to know well. Why shouldn’t I?

Damn, she’s quick. No sense denying it. These things are so often quite boring.

You’re here, she thought, but said, I’m too new to be bored. Where have I heard him?

Somehow I get the feeling you wouldn’t allow yourself to get bored.

I wish I could get that feeling. She rolled her eyes with the comment and he laughed again. Her eyes were so expressive and she knew how to use them.

Are you always so polite?

Not as often as I should be, she answered. What do you mean?

You didn’t correct Ross when he introduced you as Mrs. Carol Courtney. Shouldn’t it be, ‘Mrs. Husband’s-name Courtney’? She smiled and shrugged it off. I’m sorry, he said. You caught me. I was fishing. And he hated it.

But she fielded it well. A more educated query than most. Technically speaking, it should have been Mrs. Stephen Courtney. Technically it was debatable but she wasn’t getting into that.

So what do you teach, Mrs. Stephen Courtney? he asked quickly.

English and Music Appreciation.

Very different subjects.

The English was their choice, the Music mine. How about you?