Turning the sheets back, I got out of bed to pee. Instead of returning to my bed, I walked to the alarm at my back-deck door, and typed in the code to disarm it. What I needed was fresh air and to watch the water lap against the shore.
I stepped out onto my deck and sensed the cold wood against my feet as I moved toward the rail.
And then it hit me.
Emma
MY BODY TENSED UP AS if it was cramping or I was having a light seizure. I was conscious as my body stiffened like a plank, my arms reflexively drawn to my sides, and I was forced to bear down on my toes. Within seconds, I felt as if an invisible cable yanked my skull and neck together forcing my shoulders under my ears.
I dropped to the floor, helpless to scream. Then I felt a sharp jab at my neck and the lights went out.
I regained a semblance of awareness and sensed I was in a boat that was pitching. Water splashed at the bottom. But my eyes remained shut, almost paralyzed, and my body was unable to move. And then out I went again.
As I worked my way back to full consciousness slowly, I felt as if I had been beaten and left for dead. A quick check of my body revealed no seepage of blood or cracked bones. Everything was intact. Finally, able to focus and move around, I checked my surroundings.
The room smelled musty as if mold had remained untreated for a time. My legs were touching cold concrete, and my hands felt rough stone blocks. There was a sentience of cool moisture in the air as if I was in an old basement.
The room was pitch black except for the slice of light under the door, casting a form into view as my eyes accommodated the darkness. Across the room, I made out the form of something but couldn’t tell if it was a person or a piece of furniture. My pupils dilated to let in more light. My hearing became acuter. I sensed as I focused that the object was another person.
My God, was I kidnapped to be sold into some sex slavery ring and this other person was here to accompany my journey?
No, it wasn’t another female. It was an unconscious man braced up against the stone wall. His head was bowed and his trunk was painted in dark streaks, perhaps blood. I heard his heavy breathing, wet gurgles, and slight moans, but was still unable to discern his physical features. To cry out for help would be pointless. There were no windows, and the room was surrounded with concrete walls.
If I walked over and reached for him, would he lash out in some frenzy and attack me?
I leaned forward from my spot, and in a half whisper spoke. “Hey, mister. You okay?”
The single response to my query was a muffled groan. The sound iced my blood.
I waited for what seemed forever. As I was about ready to stand or crawl to make my way over to the man, the door cracked open. The hinge creaked as if it was rusted from the humidity and had not been used for years. Bugs scurried as light poured in, and I perceived the filmy residue of spider webs that encased the room.
Two tall well-built men in suits walked in with purpose followed by a slightly shorter but powerful man. I recognized him from somewhere, but my brain synapses weren’t firing yet. Or perhaps the drug they gave me hadn’t worn off yet. I used my hand to shield my eyes from the glaring light of the entrance and sat a little straighter.
“Dr. Collier. Welcome,” the man announced. The man, who seemed to be in charge, glanced toward the man braced against the wall and snapped, “Bring him. I will escort Dr. Collier.”
He extended his hand to help me get up, and with the added support of the wall I stood.
As I made my way across the dark chamber, I picked up a weak “Emma” from the area they walked toward.
I froze. My God, it was Jude.
“Ah, I see you two have not chatted yet,” the man said. “There will be time enough for that. Come.”
A ball of fear formed in my stomach. Who was this man? I know I have met him before. What has he got to do with Jude?
I watched them place their arms under his and they jerked him to his feet. As the dull light shone on him, I could see his face was a mess of battered red swollen flesh. His chest was a multitude of colors ranging from purple to blue, and blood was streaked. Light red, some brown and crusted. I could not be certain, but it looked as if his toenails were missing and his skin was crusted with dried blood. Three fingers appeared bent out of place. One thing was clear, he could not walk.
Trying to break away to get to him, the commander grabbed my hair and jerked it back so hard my scalp ached and burned. He wrapped my hair around his hand, and with his hand flat to my skull, he pushed my head forward violently.
The man behind me pushed me up a narrow staircase where we entered a room with several flimsy chairs. Clearly, this was an abandoned house. The man in charge pointed toward the chair where he then pushed me to sit. They carried Jude’s limp body in, dragging his toes without nails along the rough floor. They threw him in a chair barely able to support himself as he slumped down. His nose looked flattened, and above his eye was a wide gash. His eyes were almost swollen shut. His face had ballooned to twice its normal size and his bottom lip appeared barely attached.
“Now that we are all together we can engage in a civilized meeting. It is regrettable that Mr. Roselov could not attend, but now and then these things are unavoidable,” he said with a Middle Eastern accent. His neatly trimmed facial hair covered his dark skin and his coal-colored eyes burned with anger.
Why couldn’t I place him?
The two men next to Jude stood stone faced, not moving.
“Dr. Collier, we find ourselves in a dilemma here that only you can help with—” he started.
“Sir, I assure you I don’t know you, and do not understand how I can help you—” Suddenly I felt a crack across the left side of my face, catching my mouth and cheek, and then blinding pain and pops of white flashes and stars. My hand flew to where he hit me as blood leaked from my lip. Tears sprang up in my eyes, but I sat silently.
“As I was saying. Mr. White, a business associate, has caused me considerable distress. Mr. White, would you care to tell Dr. Collier what you have done?”
He slowly walked over to Jude and grabbed his hair down to his scalp and jerked his head up. Jude’s eyes remained closed as bloody drool seeped from his lips.
“No? Then permit me. Mr. White stole five hundred million dollars of my money,” he stated. As he stepped away, Jude’s head hung forward limply.
“Correct me if I am wrong Mr. White. You are in possession of paintings I gave you to sell.” He waited for a response. No response was offered.
“Correct me if I am wrong, Mr. White. You have five hundred million of my dollars that you received from the purchaser of the art.” He waited for a response. No response was offered.
“Correct me if I am wrong, Mr. White. You were to give the art to the purchaser, and you were to give me the five hundred million dollars. And do not tell me you were not aware I needed that money to purchase equipment for a mission.” He waited for a response. No response was given.
“Now that equipment has gone up in price. You realize we are under a strict timeline.” This time a response came.
“Fuck you.” For that, he received a fist to the face by the man in charge and whatever bone was left in his nose surely had to be completely broken.
I threw up as fear and the shock of this brutality played out in front of me.
“As I see it, you are in possession of two priceless paintings that perhaps you think you can resell again. Do you think you can stiff the original purchaser and keep the money paid to you as my agent and keep it yourself? Do you understand my problem, Dr. Collier?”
I remained silent.
“The problem is that Mr. White took possession of the funds on my behalf for the sale of the paintings. Naturally, that was the correct thing to do. Ah, but what did he do next? Did he then transfer them from his account to one in my name? No. Did he transfer it to one of my many shell corporations? No. Did he transfer it into another offshore account that I could access? No. The answer to
all of the above is no. He transferred them into your name. Why would that be?” He banged the wall waiting for a reply. None came from Jude or me.
The only sound I heard as I waited for the answer that could spell my death was the rush of blood pulsing in my ears. One, two, three quick beats and then an answer came. It exerted a tremendous effort, but he picked up his head and said, “She knew nothing about those accounts.”
“So you say,” he promptly responded as if he believed not one word.
“You killed Sopia—” Jude began.
“Yes, yes. The other Dr. Collier. Well, Mr. White, I don’t know what your game is or was, but your game has ended. You will give my associates all the accounts and numbers to gain access. For every dollar not accounted for, I will punish Dr. Collier. And when I tire of punishment, my two associates will take up the task. I will leave you two alone to talk and work out the details. When I come back, Mr. White, we will collect the information. I have several people waiting to take pleasure in removing your skin while Dr. Collier watches in anticipation of her own good time,” he said.
Motioning to the men, they left the room.
I stood, hunched over in pain, then made my way over to him. “I have so many questions. But I am afraid to ask them because of the answers I will receive. Jude, let’s skip the questions and give them what they want.”
“Why?” he mumbled through swollen blood-crusted lips. “Once they have it, they will kill us both. I’d sooner die and screw them out the five hundred million dollars if I will die, anyway.”
“You don’t know they will kill us. What about Roselov? Does he have the information?” I asked wanting to shake him, but it would do no good.
“He was the fortunate one. They shot him this morning. I heard them arguing, there were two shots, and then silence. They shot Sopia right in front of me. When they realized it wasn’t you in the car that bastard shot her.” Crying through swollen eyes and lips he continued. “I got away and ran. I tried to get my money. My Sopia, my love, my Sopia.”
“Holy Christ, are you for real? You and that woman stole my life, and now I am as good as dead.” A low guttural cry came from my soul.
Jude wasn’t listening to me. He was dying and in great pain. “I loved her, she was my light and life. And now Justin will be without two parents. My Sopia, my Justin.”
Silence and my wheels turning force me to try and piece everything together. “Justin? Who the hell is Justin?”
“Our son,” he whispered and continued crying.
My mind went numb. My heart pounded hard and was ready to explode. Breathing any longer seemed impossible.
“Emma, listen carefully. They are planning a simultaneous attack on three churches. It will be the same day and the same times. They are buying planes for bombs, chemical weapons, heavy artillery, and missiles. Help me keep the money from them.”
“Oh, seriously? You want me to believe you are trying to save the world, you coward?”
The door opened abruptly, and the commander entered carrying what looked like a tablet. “Now that you two have caught up, it would be a good time to supply the numbers and passwords,” he declared with a cold hard glare thrown at Jude.
With steely eyes and a determined voice, Jude stated, “That will never happen.”
The younger of the two men removed a small knife from his belt and with precision jabbed it into his stomach. Just enough to produce pain and bleeding.
After the third small stab, Jude relented. “I can give you the account numbers, but to gain access, they will need to have her in person in addition to the pass code. An extra layer of protection the bank provides for a price.”
“Impossible. She has not been out of the country to provide such identification,” the man responded.
“We made sure Sopia had the exact dimensions of Emma’s face. She was the one to open the accounts. If you want your money, you need her alive to take part,” Jude said with some satisfaction.
“We shall see. Put in the financial institutions and numbered accounts,” the man ordered.
“I had a plan and set it in motion and don’t know where some of the money is now. Sopia was in charge of moving it. Some may be in an account, some converted to gold, some may have already transferred to a safe deposit vault with the same biometric requirement. Sopia was busy these last few weeks,” Jude said with derision.
“Mr. White, you are trying my patience. Take this, and I want an account of every dollar,” he said as he handed Jude the tablet. I watched as they cleaned his bloody fingers so that he was able to touch the screen to provide the information.
A half an hour later and all the money was accounted for. I waited breathlessly, but thankful for the end to be near.
As I turned to ask what would happen next, the man in charge turned toward Jude and removed the tablet from his hands and passed it to the man to his left. With his right hand, he pushed his jacket aside, and reached for a long, curved object that dangled from his belt. A knife.
Before I could scream, he had slipped the long hunting knife from its sheath. He brought the long-curved knife in front of him and gripped it with both hands. The fourteen-inch long blade raised above his head stood ready to mete out punishment. As slowly as he raised it was as quickly as he plunged it. I watched with horror as Jude’s swollen eyes attempted to open as the commander viciously pushed the knife all the way down into Jude’s neck where it met his spine and twisted it. Jude screamed like a wounded animal, and red liquid splattered. With frenzied anger, he jerked it from his neck. So much force yet so little blood. He remained in place and while Jude was paralyzed he brought the knife to the front of Jude’s body and with a quick motion, he sliced his neck from ear to ear. Blood spurted in pulsing beats then trickled down his neck barely reaching his chest. Jude was unable to scream and he breathed no more. The commander stood in front of him as he waited to watch the life drain from his eyes.
He turned toward me splattered in blood and said, “I have matters to attend. You will return downstairs. We have a little trip to take, you and I. Upon your return from our little adventure, I suggest you close your operation.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” I yelled. Tears stung my nose as they fell. “I was played, targeted, and now my life is destroyed.”
“Ah, so you understand my position. This little scheme has the potential to destroy my life and that I won’t tolerate. Should you cooperate, you will receive a reward. Should you challenge me, I will beat you and torture you as I did Mr. White. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” I said.
“Be ready to leave when I call for you. My associates will have traveling clothes and documents ready for you.” He was done, and obviously prepared.
“Why did you kill Sopia? Why not use her?”
“I have no idea of what happened to that woman. For all I know he killed her to cut her out of her share. I would have used her instead of you, Dr. Collier. That would have been preferable. And, Dr. Collier, to answer the questions in your eyes, it was at the auction house where we met.”
With that, he left.
Cillian
DID I HEAR THE DOORBELL in my nightmares?
I peeled my weary eyelids open and glanced around. Everything appeared clouded and filmy. I must have dropped off and slept on the sofa.
That damn sound. Who is the lunatic that keeps punching that damn bell?
I rolled from the couch and tried to find stable footing as I slipped along on the floor. Nearly taking a header over Sigmund, I shouted, “Coming,” with Lucy hot on my trail.
As I got closer to the entrance, I could see Chavez peering in with his hand on the glass and Marino was leaned up against the doorjamb. They straightened as I approached, and Chavez brushed his jacket with his hand.
Opening the door, I testily stated, “What? You never heard of a phone?”
“White’s dead,” was all Marino said as I opened the door wide for him to enter.
“Holy shit. When
? How? Where?” Shock, I felt pure shock. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
“Some hikers caught sight of him on a hiking trail severely beaten, stabbed, and his throat had been cut. It was a vicious attack and in no way a robbery. It looked like torture to me. To me it looks like they wanted to send a message to Emma by doing it in her back yard,” he said. “I’ll need to talk to Emma.”
“Sure. Wait here. Make yourselves comfortable and I will get her,” I said, and I hastily left the living room to wake her. I passed Mary on the stairs. She yawned looked haggard and said, “Hope someone’s got coffee on.”
“Marino is downstairs. They just found Jude dead. I’m going to get Emma,” I said. “Can you start the coffee?”
“I just passed her room, and she’s not in it,” she said.
“Wait downstairs. I’ll wake Jackson, and we’ll look. Perhaps she fell asleep on the back deck,” I said.
Stopping at Jackson’s room, I tapped sharply and entered. Everyone must have had a bad night last night. He looked one step up from having survived a zombie apocalypse, so I approached cautiously. When I was certain he was conscious and listening to me, I relayed what had transpired and told him coffee was brewing. He grabbed his track pants and followed me out to Emma’s room.
As we approached her room, I noticed the bedroom door which she usually closed at night was open. The bed appeared rumpled and slept in, but there was no sign of Emma. I checked her bathroom to determine if she had used the shower, and the closet to see if her clothes for the day were missing. But I found no signs of Emma. The door to the outside deck was closed, but I could see the green light from the alarm glowing indicating it was unarmed. Her robe was tossed carelessly over the large chair in the corner, and her slippers were under the chair. The room appeared undisturbed, and nothing was out of place.
I walked onto the deck, and the first thing that raised the alarm for me was a massive round flower pot was tipped over with dirt scattered. Jackson had come up behind me and we looked at each other, thinking the same thing but not ready to state a conclusion. I took a few steps toward the rail bar and leaned over. Where the steps met the deck, we noted freshly disturbed soil and crushed flowers.
Three_Deception Love Murder Page 26