The Cygnus Agenda

by Richard Martin

  By the time she hit the sidewalk a surge of relief washed over her, bringing some extra pep to her stride. She knew that if the strategy had gone wrong and Arnie had taken the hit, the betrayal and her conscience could have destroyed her. What had made her take that risk she had steadfastly refused to address and now she felt justified in doing so. She had just lost the biggest story of her career, was facing a future that held only uncertainty, but she knew she was back, back to being an investigative journalist with self respect restored. And that, for the time being, would do.

  CHAPTER 36

  Arnie was getting impatient as he waited for Jessica to return from D.C. and after an hour of watching T.V. news reports he got up from the couch, moved towards the window and looked out at the gathering storm. He watched a gust of wind pick up and swirl a heap of leaves from the patio then fling them in all directions. Branches were beginning to bend as the howling wind raked through the trees, heavy drops of rain starting to spit on the window pane. He didn`t like storms, felt trapped by them, and tonight was no different. Turning away from the window he walked over to the desk in the corner, took a pen and piece of paper from the drawer and began to reflect on the investigation. The betrayals, the killings, all of it due to the crushing weight of raw political power. The unanswered questions were still bugging him, such as how did Jessica get access to Reverend Stone, and what hold did this person in D.C. have over her in return for his help?

  Right from the start he had felt a deep unease about the whole affair, and now, at the forefront of his mind was this nagging doubt, a question about Jessica herself and the loose end she had returned to D.C. to tidy up. What was it she had kept to herself, kept from him, and why? If trust was the issue then it meant he had to confront her, but it was a move he knew could break them.

  Returning to the window and peering into the looming darkness, his eye caught a flash of lightning in the group of pines at the end of the driveway, a flash that was unusually late in its connection to the thunderclap. It was odd but he paid no heed, the isolation of the cottage more of a concern due to the possibility of a power outage. Hearing another thunderous crack his mind now turned to the arduous journey Jessica would face when driving back from the airport: debris on the road, possibly even a fallen tree. Dismissing the thought he returned to the couch and switched the T.V. back on.

  At a few minutes past 9pm his cell-phone buzzed, a text from Jessica stating that her flight was late and that arrival at the cottage would be after midnight. He considered suggesting she stay in Seattle due to the storm then realised that bad weather wouldn`t be a deterrent to someone like her.

  These days, Arnie didn`t drink much, but tonight to help with the pain of his shoulder wound, he headed for the kitchen where he found four bottles of liquor. He looked at the gin, then the white rum, and finally the two bottles of bourbon. Bourbon it was. Pouring himself a large one he slugged back most of it. Refilling the glass he suddenly stopped and turned towards the kitchen window in response to another flash of light, a smaller one, but this time not accompanied by a thunderclap. He peered through the window and thought he caught a glimpse of movement over by the barn. He knew there was plenty of action out there, whipped up by the storm which was worsening by the minute, but he couldn`t shake a growing feeling of edginess as he listened to the sound of whacking branches against the roof and the distant clang of a metal trash can rolling along the paved back yard. He gave it one more look to satisfy himself that no one was out there and vowed to hold his imagination in check.

  After a few moments he switched off the kitchen light and headed down the hallway. Halfway along he stopped dead, the loudness of a banging noise causing him to tense and spin around. He stared back through the darkness of the kitchen to what looked like a looming shadow outside the opaque, half-glass door.

  As the banging continued, faster, more determined, he realised someone was in trouble. He switched on the light and put down his glass of bourbon, eyes trained on the outside shadow that now had an outline shape to it.

  As he unlocked the door it flew open with the strength of the wind, a shower of raindrops hitting his head. The visitor`s face showed no emotion, no alarm, just piercing eyes set into deeply tanned skin, focussed, like a timber wolf.

  The sudden blow hit Arnie just above the eye socket, knocking him backwards. As the pain made him cry out, another blow to the side of his head sent him reeling towards the kitchen sink.

  Shocked and staring through watery eyes, Arnie instinctively knew he had only one chance, and took it. Ducking down then springing up, he rammed his right fist into the assailant`s jaw, his left fist following but resulting in only a glancing blow.

  The near miss was enough to give his opponent the edge, the time to launch a crushing strike with a metal weapon that caught Arnie on the other side of his head. With one eye beginning to swell he didn`t see the final attack coming, as a vicious hit to the back of his skull sent him crashing to the floor.

  Simi-conscious, he was dragged down the hallway and into the living room. Taking two short pieces of rope from the belt in his jeans, the man bound Arnie`s hands, tied his feet together and threw him onto the couch.

  Taking a seat on the opposite couch, the intruder took off his rain-jacket and hat, throwing them into a corner of the room. With a malicious grin, the man spoke, his thin lips unable to hide bad teeth, the tone of his voice hard. “So who are you? I was expecting only the woman!”

  Arnie could feel the blood running down his cheek and the swelling of his eye getting worse. He knew a refusal to answer was pointless, more pain inflicted until he did. “I`m a friend, staying here for a few days while she`s away.”

  “And when is she back?”

  “Not for several days, the weekend.”

  “Don`t lie to me!” the man shouted.

  “I`m not lying.”

  In two swift steps the intruder crossed the room and aimed another vicious blow at Arnie, hitting him in the mouth, a pool of blood oozing through his teeth and spilling onto his lip.

  “Cell-phone, where is your cell-phone?” the man demanded as he clamped Arnie`s chin in a vice-like grip.

  Arnie swivelled his eyes in the direction of the cabinet beside the couch as the man stepped forward and picked up the phone before barking out another instruction. “Password, give me the password!”

  Fighting a surge of pain, Arnie gave it up without a moment`s delay, knowing hesitation would result in more suffering.

  Seated back on the couch, the man checked Arnie`s recent texts and smiled. “Midnight eh? So a couple of hours and then the fun will begin. Now I rest, so no talk, and if you move I will hurt you again, understand?”

  Arnie nodded, his good eye staring, the damaged one almost closed as he realised his options were zero. The thought of what was about to happen to Jessica was something he could barely stand, that she was about to walk into hell itself, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  It was twenty minutes to midnight when Arnie`s cell-phone buzzed to indicate a text, the intruder punching in the password. “She will be here in one hour,” he said, smiling and taking duct tape from his pocket before wrapping it over Arnie`s mouth.

  When the crunch of gravel on the driveway came, it could barely be heard above the anger of the storm but was just loud enough for Arnie to hear, his head snapping round to face the window. He watched as the intruder abruptly stood, took out a large handgun from the back of his jeans, waved it at him and moved towards the lounge doorway.

  Jessica had pulled up much closer to the house than usual, cut the engine and stepped from the car into a wave of lashing rain that made her sprint to the porch. Coming through the entrance she dropped her overnight bag, and against the pressing power of the wind slammed the door shut. As she fluffed up her hair to get rid of the raindrops, she marched down the hallway and called out Arnie`s name, feeling slightly
puzzled at getting no reply.

  Not seeing the intruder, who stood behind the door, she stared in a state of disbelief at the sight of Arnie tied up, battered and bruised. Before she could make sense of the scene, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, the force behind it pinning her to the wall in a vice-like grip.

  “Don`t scream, American bitch. I hate it when women scream,” the man said, as he clamped his other hand over her mouth. “You have upset important people in Honduras, threatened their business, and they don`t like it. They have sent me to teach you a lesson, and to let your government know there will always be a price to be paid for disrespecting us.”

  Taking a step back but maintaining his grip he dropped his voice. “I`m going to remove my hand from your mouth, but you must stay quiet, understand?”

  With a rapid shake of her head, she indicated compliance, the fear in her eyes totally convincing. Spinning Jessica around, her face now pushed against the wall, the man took another piece of rope from his belt, bound her wrists then threw her onto the couch opposite Arnie.

  “This is better than I was expecting. So pretty,” he whispered, as he kneeled down and stroked her hair. He stared at her a moment then reached for the duct tape he`d placed on the couch side-table, tore off a strip and slapped it over her mouth.

  Jessica could feel the panic rising, heart pounding out of her chest as she looked into the eyes of the Honduran who now started to rip off her blouse. Running his hands over her breasts he reached down between her thighs, gripping her panties as if preparing to tear them from her.

  But now he laughed and then stood, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and jeans while looking down at her. “Don`t be foolish woman, this will not be painful. And I`m going to remove the tape on your mouth so I can kiss those beautiful lips, but scream and you will know pain like you could never imagine. Do you understand, American bitch?”

  Straddling Jessica on the couch, the Honduran slowly peeled away the duct tape, an excited sneer his only expression. And now she began to fight, her bound hands thrashing at his head, legs and knees pumping furiously in an effort to throw him off. Her fear had turned to rage, her impulse to tear at his face concentrating her energy as animal instinct took over. With the last piece of tape now ripped from her mouth she lunged forward and plunged her teeth deep into the man`s ear.

  With a scream he pulled himself bolt upright and hit her hard across the head with the butt of his gun. “You fucking bitch, now I really make you pay!”

  On the other couch, Arnie reacted instantly, pushing himself up with his bound feet and launching himself at the intruder. As they crashed to the floor, Arnie wrestled furiously, his tied hands clamping onto the man`s arm as he fought for control of the gun. But the Honduran was stronger than Arnie, whose only chance was to summon up as vicious an attack as he could. Now thumping at the man`s face then connecting with a full force head-butt, he created a split second opportunity, enough to let him grab for the gun once more.

  With the two men rolling in a tangled heap, suddenly a shot rang out just as Jessica scrambled off the couch. She stood in shock, mind soaked in dread as she stared at Arnie`s limp body, a scream trapped in her throat. As the Honduran hauled himself to his feet he seemed to smile as his eyes met Jessica`s look of horror. It was only a second or two but appeared to be longer as she watched him stagger back, a look of confusion now on his face as he stared down at his belly and the blood oozing between his fingers. With a strained look at Jessica and only survival instinct keeping him upright, his knees began to buckle, legs now giving way as his body crashed to the floor.

  “You got the sonofabitch, Arnie, you got him!” Jessica shouted.

  Slowly rising to his feet, Arnie looked at the Honduran`s body. “Yeah, we got the bastard, Jess,” he said, dropping the man`s gun and moving towards her.

  Hands still bound, he hurriedly untied Jessica`s and in a few moments she was free to embrace him, tears in her eyes, the nightmare over. As she pulled back to look at him she winced at how battered his face was. “My God, he hurt you bad. Let me untie you.”

  It seemed like an age as she struggled to undo the ropes, her fingers trembling, picking too fast, her speech quickening with frustration. “Goddamn these knots.” Then she stopped, her eyes staring past Arnie who could see the sudden change in her expression.

  Looking over his shoulder he was a fraction too late. The Honduran was halfway up from the floor and raising his left elbow which he crashed into the side of Arnie`s face, the power of the blow sending him sprawling towards the couch.

  “I`m not finished yet, bitch, now I will kill you!” the Honduran yelled as he lunged at Jessica, his bloodied hands reaching for her throat.

  Still bound by the ropes, Arnie sprung back from the couch and threw himself at the man, both of them crashing back to the floor as Jessica jumped away. Slamming his fist hard into Arnie`s jaw and stunning him, the Honduran was soon back on his feet, strength seeming to return, eyes wide with intent, features distorted by adrenaline fuelled rage.

  But meeting that face of rage was another, one of even greater intensity, and with an ice-cold look of revenge. Jessica was staring the Honduran down, her legs astride, his gun pointed straight at him, her finger on the trigger.

  As the Honduran looked down the barrel, he slowly raised his arms and took two hesitant steps back, a move of surrender and sufficient to relieve the threat. With blood dripping from his wounded gut but his face showing no pain, he smiled at her.

  Nobody spoke as a chilled silence prevailed, the Honduran and Arnie staring at Jessica.

  Feeling the gun`s weight dragging her hand down as exhaustion took over, Jessica saw the barrel waver from its target. As she raised it back up, she looked into the Honduran`s eyes and could feel Arnie inching towards her. “Take it easy, Jess,” he said.

  And now it was her that smiled, waited a moment, then pumped three rounds into the Honduran`s chest.

  Staring at the lifeless body on the floor she turned to Arnie. “He was a monster, deserved what he got. I told you that after Honduras I`d shoot anyone who ever threatened me like that again.”

  END

  COPPERHEAD CANYON

  PROLOGUE

  August 2004

  “They killed your wife first.”

  The statement provoked no answer, no change of expression.

  “Then they killed your maid. And both of them had been tortured.”

  Sitting on the other side of the desk, in a cramped, windowless room, the man being interviewed showed not even a flicker of concern. He was calm, not shaky, as anyone just hauled off a newly landed flight by men in dark suits ought to be.

  “Thank God you had no children,” the questioner continued.

  Still the woman interrogator got no response, as she drew in a deep, exasperated breath of the room`s stale air and increased the intensity of her glare. The combination of the man`s arrogant demeanour and contempt in his eyes was getting to her, an impulse to hurt him growing by the second.

  Her patience right on the edge, and now struggling to keep her cool, she suddenly slammed her right hand down on the desk. “Speak, goddammit!”

  With a deliberate delay the man crossed his legs, folded his arms, and with a sneer on his face, finally responded. “No kids? Her choice, not mine.”

  “It`s not about that, you murderous bastard. You don`t care do you? Don`t give a damn about what you left behind in Namibia?”

  “I didn`t think they`d kill her, being a native Namibian. And as for the maid, she`d be of no consequence to people like that.”

  “So you admit you know who these people are?”

  Another refusal to respond.

  “Well we do!” the woman continued. “And we also know every move you made before getting the hell out of there with your stolen diamonds.”

  At last, the tiniest wince, f
ollowed by a look of realisation as the man cleared his throat. “You know more than I had assumed.”

  “We`re Israeli national security for Christ`s sake. We know everything about everybody who lands on our soil.”

  “So the Namibian media coverage of the explosion didn`t get past you guys at Mossad. Not surprised.”

  “Who mentioned Mossad?”

  “Okay then, Israeli security. Same thing, no?”

  Pushing back in her wooden chair, deliberately set higher so as to look down on those opposite, the woman flashed a fake smile then dialled down her tone.

  “It was a well planned strategy, I`ll give you that. The Americans and the British bought it, but not us. What you fail to realise is that the corrupt bastards you teamed up with are the same bunch we are in with. Knowing the good guys get`s you nowhere in the likes of Namibia. The bad guys are where it`s at.”

  “Don`t have to tell me. Got an offer I couldn`t refuse, otherwise I`d have been replaced as head of the Corporation. And that meant a bullet to the head.”

  Now she had his attention, had got him engaged, but it didn`t ease her anger. “So not your fault, that it? Just a matter of survival eh?”

  The man leaned forward, his voice almost spitting the words. “Until you`re in that kind of position you don`t know the limits to your morality. You start off small with these people then discover your whole life is owned by them. So yes, I did what I did to survive.”

  “You carried out the heinous act of blowing up the mine when workers were still down there, you psycho bastard. Thirty seven dead, all buried alive. And I suppose taking the whole $27million in diamonds, which belonged to the Corporation`s government pals, was not part of your plan, just the way things turned out?”

  “They were going to kill me anyway.”