Cobalt

by Shelley Grace

  Madeline walked across the raised boards to where the gondola were moored. Seeing a young man waiting patiently for a fare, she approached him. Settling back into the red velvet cushions of the boat she thought it would have been nice to have Rick there with her, but the journey through the grand canal would be just as impressive, on her own. As the gondola drifted through the water Madeline remembered the case. It had been nine years ago, yet it still affected the things they did. She had been at the agency for five years when it happened. Rick and herself had been assigned to what was to become the most difficult case of their careers, and the case with the most repercussions. The bush murders was one of the most horrific case to have been investigated in the whole of the CIA’s existence. Women aged between nineteen and twenty-eight had been disappearing all across the Tennessee, Kentucky and Alabama region, and then turning up raped and murdered, by decapitation, five days after their disappearances. Along with the FBI, the CIA had been brought in to investigate, and solve this murder mystery. Madeline and Rick had been assigned to this case, as they were the best the CIA could offer, in violent crimes investigation. Marcus had been deputy director then, and it was widely known that he was in line for the directors position, when the present Director, Timothy Pickett resigned. Rumour quickly spread that Madeline had only been offered this case because she was sleeping with Marcus Shaw. After all she was only relatively new to the agency, and longer serving operatives resented the fact that she was assigned to the ground-breaking case. It was also widely known that who ever solved the case would be assigned as the new Deputy Director when the promotions occurred. As the case progressed, and they became closer to solving it, it became known to Madeline, that Rick had started the ‘Madeline’s sleeping with Marcus’ rumour, to slightly taint her perfect image in the eyes of the National Security Council, the Senate and of course the President, because he knew it was ultimately their decision as to whom would receive the promotion. He knew that she was the smarter and more dedicated of the two, so it was obvious to him that she was the main reason he was assigned to the case. Rick wanted the promotion, and he knew that if he had to compete with Madeline, he would loose. Madeline on the other hand, knew that whatever the outcome, Rick would receive the promotion, anyway. The women’s movement hadn’t quite made it in to the CIA building. Of course Madeline didn’t mind so much, that Rick had spread the rumour she was sleeping with Marcus. Most that knew her, also knew that she would never sleep with the self-centred, ego controlled Deputy Director. What she did mind was the fact that he had undermined her credibility as an investigative agent. That, and the fact he put her life in danger, for a quick arrest.

  One of the facts not widely known, by the press and the public, was that all the victims had been beautiful, dark haired prostitutes, and Rick, using this to his advantage, placed Madeline undercover, as the next victim. He lied to Marcus, and told him, she was doing research, every time the Deputy Director called a late night progress meeting, and he lied to Madeline by telling her, that Marcus, and Director Pickett had cleared this manoeuvre personally. Rick had been right on target when he placed Madeline undercover, as it only took five days for the new ‘prostitute’ in town to be noticed, and abducted by their suspect. Using the tracking device Madeline was wearing, Rick, and the rest of the investigative team, caught up to their suspect four hours after he kidnapped Madeline, just as he was about to perform the decapitation. To this day Madeline didn’t know what had taken them so long to pursuit. She shuddered as she remembered everything that had happened to her during those four hours.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Madeline stood leaning against the stone wall of the building in down-town Washington DC. She had been on her feet for nearly six hours now. And this was just tonight. She had been on the street for the past four days, working during the day at the agency and then from six until six on the street in hopes that their suspect would make his appearance soon.

  She looked down at the outfit Rick had picked for her tonight. The very short, very tight black skirt that barely covered her and the red, halter-neck silk blouse that displayed far too much of her cleavage than she was comfortable with. Rick assured her than no man would be able to resits her in this outfit. He’d said the same line for four days. Madeline just felt stupid. The outfits had gotten more and more revealing, shorter, tighter more ridiculous as the evenings went by. And then there were the boots she was wearing tonight. They were by far the stupidest part of the whole ensemble. Long, black boots that came to just above her knees, they had a six inch spike heel. She leant back further against the wall and lifting one foot, she rubbed at her toes through the stiff vinyl. I’m going to kill the man, the misogynistic bastard that invented heels, she decided, rubbing at the blister she knew was forming. No, I’m going to kill Rick. He’s why I’m wearing these god-awful boots. She gingerly put her foot down on the ground and looked at the other four women standing next to her. Amber, a tall, red-head with oversized silicon breasts was smoking a cigarette and pacing the side-walk. Not many prostitutes were still working once news spread that the Bush-murderer had moved to Washington DC. Business was slow. It had been over the past week and a half, or so Brittiny had told her. Madeline glanced over to where Brittiny was sitting, resting on an up-side down garbage can. The girl was no more that sixteen years of age, blonde- but badly dyed blonde, and flat-chested. Madeline could just imagine the cliental she attracted on a regular basis. She shuddered thinking about it, but then stopped herself. She was here on a mission only, and she was under no circumstances to feel emotion towards these women, sympathy or otherwise. It was an in and out mission- no association with anyone.

  To her left stood Brigitte, a cross-dressing, transsexual- Madeline hadn’t been told which- with a French accent, cinnamon hair and two centimetre long ruby red fingernails. She or he, depending on who’s story was right had been in Washington DC for nearly ten years, after being rejected one too many times in Hollywood. All in all Brigitte was, as Madeline assessed, a rather good-looking woman, or an extremely beautiful man. The last of her brave companions was a natural looking girl of about twenty-four years of age. She had soft features, long mid-brown hair and greenish, grey eyes. Of all of the girls on the corner, this girl was the one Madeline felt strongly for. Pity mostly. Madeline had never been told her name, but she had heard one of the others call her Lea. Leah, Leanne, Kelly all ran through her mind. Each with a question mark behind it. Over the last few nights she had seen the other girls go on jobs, each seeing at least three ‘John’s’ a night. Lea had seen no-one.

  Madeline was drawn from her contemplation as a red Corvette pulled up beside the curb, and the passenger side window was wound down. Three out of the four working-girls jumped and hustled, and shimmied across the pavement in front of the car, Lea remained in the shadows, while Madeline, too tired to act her part stepped forward into the rays of the single street light and glanced at the car. Part of her hoped it was not the killer, but the other part, the professional part of her mind wished that it were. The sooner they got this scum off the streets the better.

  Madeline started as the ‘John’ called out to her. ‘You, dark hair. In the car.’ No formalities like ‘Need a Date Big Boy,’ as she had seen in the movies. Just ‘In the car.’ She complied, walking past the other women on the street. She heard ‘Lucky Bitch’ muttered under someone’s, most likely Amber’s breath as she stepped from the curb, into the open passenger side of the Corvette. Not so lucky, she thought afterwards.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  The plan had been for her to get in the car, with Barnem, and lead the investigators to his house, where they would retrieve her safely, apprehend the suspect, and bag some conclusive evidence. Somehow, however, after she got in the car, Barnem managed to render her unconscious. Madeline couldn’t remember him hitting her, at that point, so she assumed that he used chloroform or ether to perform the task. The next thing she remembered was waking
to find herself tied, by one wrist, to a bed, her red silk blouse cut open to reveal her black bra, and her short, black skirt pulled up around her hips. Barnem sat next to her staring, saliva forming in the corners of his mouth. She remembered looking quickly around the room. The window was boarded up, her boots were next to the door, her black lace panties were hanging from the end of the bed, her gun was lying on the bedside table, and the headboard of the bed was slightly rotted. This could prove useful, she thought. Barnem saw her gaze fall on to the weapon.

  ‘What’s a pretty little thing, like you, doing with something like this?’ he said, as he picked up the pistol, dropped it onto the floor and kicked it under the bed. Madeline said nothing. Barnem then began to slide his hands up her legs. The thought of what happened to the other girls, happening to her, infuriated Madeline. She lashed out, her foot connecting with the side of his head. As Barnem was knocked off-balance, Madeline yanked her bound wrist from the rope, splintering the rotted wood on the bed head, and made a run from the room. Having never seen the old wooden house before, as she entered the hallway, Madeline was uncertain as to which direction to go.

  Choosing left, she ran around the corner to find herself at the top of two flights of stairs. Behind her a vase crashed. Madeline spun around to see Harold Barnem hurl himself directly at her. The impact of him sent them both reeling down the stairs. Madeline landed flat on her back, at the bottom, with Barnem on top of her. Thinking he was unconscious she pulled her arms free and placed them on his shoulders. As she moved to shift him, Barnem sat up, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them on the floor, behind her head. Madeline struggled underneath him. Barnem smiled.

  ‘So you’ve got a little fight in you? I like that. The others begged me to spare their lives. They thought if I got the sugar, I wouldn’t kill them. How can twenty-seven women all be so stupid? You’re not like the others. You know I’m going to kill you, whatever you do, but then you’re a cop, so you should. Come on. Give me some sugar.’ Holding her wrists to the ground with one hand, Barnem grabbed at her breast with the other. Using a move she had learned in training, Madeline succeeded in throwing Barnem from her. Rolling to scramble to her feet, Madeline’s efforts were brought to an end as Barnem used his five-foot eight, 210 pounds against her. Grabbing her around the waist, Barnem dragged Madeline through the house, and out into the backyard, to where he had a chopping block and an assortment of cutting implements. Barnem threw Madeline on to the ground, next to the chopping block.

  ‘I’ve decided, unlike the others, I’m going to kill you first. After all, I don’t need your head, for what I’m going to do to you. I’ve also decided you get to watch me kill you.’ He said as he tied her to the block, face up. ‘You know, they say when one is decapitated, one remembers the sight of the implement used, the feel of it slicing through the skin and the sight of their body as the head falls to the ground. Won’t that be nice?’ After checking to see if her hands were securely fastened to either side, Barnem then began to wander through his tools, trying to decipher which one he should use this time. Each implement he passed was given a running commentary; ‘Ah, the faithful axe. So many have lost their heads to it.’ Barnem stopped next to an old samurai sword. Picking it up, he swung it round his head a few times before approaching Madeline.

  ‘My grandfather gave this to me. Said he confiscated it off a Japanese soldier, during the war. I think he said he was stationed in Taracan. On the beach. I haven’t used this one before. I hope you’re a history buff.’ Barnem laughed at his humour, until he noticed Madeline’s expression. There was no hint of fear, or anger, in fact, there was no emotion at all. He knelt down over Madeline, and pushed his face into hers.

  ‘Aren’t you the least bit afraid of me?’ He said looking directly into her unwavering eyes. When she showed no response he hit her across the face.

  ‘Mr. Barnem,’ Madeline stated evenly, not shifting her gaze. ‘You should never look into the eyes of the person you are going to kill. They will haunt you for all eternity.’

  Barnem grabbed her chin. ‘There have been so many.’ He kissed her. ‘Why should you effect me, when the others haven’t?’ Barnem then turned her head, and licked her neck and face. Stepping away from her he raised the sword over his head. At that moment Rick and six other agents burst through the back door.

  ‘Freeze! Drop the weapon.’ was shouted by one of the agents. Barnem attempted to make the cut, to make one final murder. Rick shot Barnem in the upper shoulder. The impact of the bullet threw his aim. The sword wedged into the block five centimetres above Madeline’s head. Then the team was upon him, pinning him to the ground. Rick raced to Madeline’s aid. She couldn’t look at him. Rick cut the cords that held her to the block, and she stood, breathing deeply as she did so. Rick tried to help her, but she pulled from his grip.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his concern for her, coming through in his voice.

  ‘Fine!’ Madeline responded coldly, over her shoulder, as she approached one of the waiting cars.

  ‘What did he do to you?’ Rick questioned, worried that his tactic was not the best solution to the problem after all.

  ‘Nothing you haven’t tried, in one way or another…’ Madeline said closing and locking the car door between them. Looking at Madeline, Rick realised that he had been completely out of line with his actions on this case. That he had treated her in the worst possible way, even worse than anything Barnem could have done to her in the time that he had her. Listening to the tone and the words she used in her responses, Rick knew that he had lost her.

  Harold Barnem was convicted and gassed for the murders of twenty-seven women, and the attempted murder of one undercover CIA agent. Rick received the promotion for the brilliant and insightful apprehension of Harold Barnem, despite the fact that it was Madeline who had put her life on the line, and that it was Madeline’s reputation that had suffered. Rick became the Deputy Director four months after the conclusion of the case, and Marcus, the new Director, not wanting to separate a perfectly good team, left Rick and Madeline partners, as they had remained ever since. The only difference, before the case they had been more than just business partners, but from then on Madeline withdrew from the relationship, on an emotional level. Never again, she decided was she going to allow herself to be used by a man. As they passed silently under the Rialto Bridge Madeline sighed. Her ride was almost over. When the gondola stopped back at St Mark’s square, she thanked Giaccamo, her gondolier, and made her way slowly back to the hotel. Passing a cafe still open at two in the morning, Madeline went inside and enjoyed the solitude over a cappuccino. As she sipped the last of the coffee, she warily stood up and left the cafe. Strolling the three doors to the hotel, Madeline smiled to herself. It took nine years, after that case, the accusations, before she allowed herself to trust him, before they completely re-found each other’s love. The beauty of love, she thought, is that in all actuality they never lost it. That while he remained slightly aloof, and she, emotionally barren, deep inside it had always been there. They had continued working together, sleeping together, using each other for the past nine years, and they would continue to do so while they benefited from each other. Madeline laughed quietly to herself, as the doors on the lift closed, leaving the concierge staring after her.

  CHAPTER 21

  She entered the hotel room, and found Rick seated on the couch, files spread all over the coffee table, reading one of the many folders. Progress reports, Madeline surmised. Rick must have had the front desk print them out for him, she thought, knowing that they did not carry a printer with them. He looked up at her, removing his glasses in the process.

  ‘So how was it?’ he asked, following her with his eyes as she sank down into the cushions beside him and leant her head into his shoulder. He placed his chin gently on top of her head, slightly nuzzling into her thick mahogany tresses.

  She sighed. ‘Nice. I'm hoping the coffee, I had, can keep me awake to help you finalise these reports. So far...’ She
yawned, closing her eyes, ‘It's not working!’

  He chuckled sympathetically. ‘You know what?’

  She mumbled an incoherent ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Why don't you turn in for the night... uh morning? Get some rest. You could...’ His voice trailed off, sensing she wasn't listening. Tilting his head down, he looked at her face. He saw that, indeed she wasn't. Madeline was sound asleep. He smiled and shook his head in amusement. Being careful not to jar her, he slid from underneath her and stood, keeping her propped up with one hand. He slipped that arm completely around her back, and snaking the other one under her legs, at the knees, delicately lifted her body from the couch.

  Eyes still closed, one of her arms hanging limply by her side, the other draped over her stomach, Madeline was only partially aware of the fact she was being moved. Planning on asking where she was being transported to, she instead ending up murmuring a string of barely audible sounds, just too tired to make a complete, coherent sentence.

  Rick tightened his grip on her, as she moved slightly in his arms. ‘Shhh’ he whispered against her ear. She moved one of her arms, and Rick thought she was going to cling about his neck. Instead her hand reached his shoulder and then slid down his chest to rest across her stomach, and other arm. Her fingertips still touched his abdomen.