by Arno Joubert
"Next your dear little wife, Isabelle. Actually, I'm having second thoughts about that, you would probably thank me for killing her." He chuckled. "Have you ever seen a body once I'm done with it?"
"Yes, Allan," he whispered.
"Fuck you, Henrie," he shouted into the receiver and slammed the phone down.
Neil opened the door a fraction and peeked inside. Alexa was snoring. Good.
It had been six days since Alexa's breakdown. He had taken leave, determined to nurse her back to health. He tried to feed her what the doctor had ordered. Lots of proteins and veggies and starch, fatten her up a little, the doctor had said.
She ate a little at first, but two days ago she started wolfing down the food between her naps. That was a good sign.
"Neil, is that you?" he heard her call softly from the bedroom.
He walked inside. "Yes, baby."
She sat up. "I need to get up."
"You need to rest."
"How is Laiveaux?"
"He's fine," he said, tucking her fringe behind her ear.
She nodded sleepily and yawned. She crawled into his arms and he rocked her gently, until he heard her breathing slow down.
He tucked her into the duvet and stood up, leaning against the wall, watching her.
Sometimes she would have nightmares. Struggling against some assailant, thrashing her arms. She would call out names that he knew, some that he had never heard of. She probably dreamt of Anderson Fitch beating her. Callahan hunting her. The day her dad had been shot in front of her. He shrugged. She had always rationalized away her pain. Yes, she was okay, don't worry, let's get the job done. But still, he knew that it must have gotten to her, the events in their lives were too traumatic not to.
She started whimpering in her sleep and sat bolt upright in bed, sobbing.
He touched her brow, she was burning up. He went to the bathroom and fetched a wet facecloth and sat down beside her, wiping the perspiration from her brow. She clung to him, her shoulders jerking as she sobbed.
He rocked her gently. "Cry, Alexa. You need to get it all out."
"Get what out, Neil?" she sobbed, looking up at him. "Why am I feeling this way?"
He pulled his fingers through her hair, rocking her from side to side. "The gypsies call bad memories Chimera. We envision them as animals with human traits, like clever, calculated monsters." He leaned back against the headboard, pulling her to his chest. "They're evil spirits that are out to haunt your thoughts."
She wrapped her arms around his body, calming down. "So, how do you defeat these...Chimera?"
Neil shrugged. "You face them in your dreams."
"How long?"
"As long as is necessary. Until you're not afraid of them anymore. Until they disappear."
She lifted her face to his. "But I need to work."
"Why?"
"Because there are people that need me."
He chuckled. "And what about myself and Yumi? We need you too."
She lay head back down on his chest. "That's different and you know that."
He stroked her head. "How is that different, Alexa?"
She shrugged. "Because you'll always be here with me."
He chuckled. "We need you to be healthy Alexa. You're a part of our lives, and it would hurt us to lose...the old Alexa." He sat up and put her head on the pillow. He fumbled in his pocket and put out a hand containing two pills. "Here, drink it."
"What is it?"
"Ketamine. It's all I have."
"I don't need it."
"You do, drink it. It will help you sleep."
She sat up stubbornly. "I don't want to sleep."
"You must. You need to defeat the Chimera. It's the only way you'll get healthy."
She tucked her fringe behind her ear. "I'm not sick." Her face was sunken and sallow, the rings beneath her eyes darker than he remembered.
Neil pushed her back into her cushion. "Alexa, you're very, very sick. Your brain has shut down. It has had enough. You've been living on adrenaline since you were a kid - fight or flight. You must rest."
She sighed then popped the pills into her mouth. He handed her a glass of water and she threw her head back and swallowed them. She curled up into the duvet. "Don't go far," she whispered.
He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'll always be here, baby."
She nodded, then closed her eyes.
Neil groaned as he felt someone poke him in his ribs. "Wake up, sleepy head."
He stretched out his arm as and yawned, rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Alexa sat next to him, fully dressed. "How did you sleep?"
He sat there, staring at her. He probably looked like a lunatic, but he didn't care. Alexa was back. The past couple of weeks had done wonders for her, she had transformed in front of his eyes. The color in her cheeks were back, and her eyes were sparkling green again. Her figure had become voluptuous, all the curves and volume was back, the way he remembered her.
She put her hand on his chin. "I made breakfast."
He raised an eyebrow.
She giggled and kissed him, deeply. "Okay, I went to buy breakfast."
He pulled the covers away. "Great. Not that I criticize your cooking skills."
She laughed and led him to the kitchen. She wore a tight-fitting jeans and her favorite black leather jacket. Her ass mesmerized him. Fresh coffee was brewing, and there were two plates and polystyrene containers on the table. The smell of omelets and bacon drifted through the room. She opened the containers and slid the omelets onto the plates.
"There something that I've always wanted to ask you," Neil said, pouring the coffee.
"Shoot."
"How come I always get food poisoning when you cook, but you eat the same food and nothing happens to you?"
She shrugged. "If you grow up with Bruce, anything that comes in a pot is considered edible. I guess all those years made me immune."
Neil chuckled. "How you feeling?"
She smiled and popped a forkful of egg into her mouth. "I'm good and you?"
He looked at her, smiling. "I'm good. Should I wake Yumi?"
"I dropped her at school. You overslept."
"Thanks."
She winked seductively. "It's just you and me."
Neil grinned. "Just us?"
She licked her lips. "Fancy breakfast in bed?"
He jumped up. "Let's eat later."
She giggled as he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.
Alexa was back.
Interpol HQ, Lyon, France
Military Attache to the President of France, Henrie Dumas sat at Bruce's desk, his leg bouncing up and down. He glanced up at Bruce as he spoke, biting his fingernails.
Bruce was having a hard time calming himself down. He stood up and walked to the large glass window separating his office from the open plan area where his agents worked. He spun around on his heel. "Allow me to summarize, see if I have my facts straight."
Dumas closed his eyes and nodded his head.
"You have been a mole in the office of the presidency for the past three months."
Dumas nodded, biting his lower lip.
"And you have been supplying this Allan Sonti with highly classified information?"
"Yes, yes. Like I told you. But I cannot do this any longer."
Bruce took a deep breath, strode over to Dumas and grabbed him by the shirt on his chest.
"Colonel, you have to understand. He threatened to kill my family. He murdered an innocent man in front of me."
Bruce paused momentarily. He could understand what the man felt. Alexa and he had been hunted by a gang for her entire teenage life. He felt a sliver of empathy towards the man. "What did you tell him, Dumas?"
"I told them that Captain Guerra and Sergeant Allen were at the village where Laiveaux was kept."
Bruce shook him. "Why would you do that? Why would you put my daughter's life in danger?"
The man clutched at Bruce's arm with both hands. "
I know. I'm sorry. But I cannot do this anymore." He looked up, his lips pursed together in a thin line. "And that's why I'm here, confessing."
"You want Interpol to protect you?"
Dumas chuckled, shook his head. "No, no. You can't protect me. No-one can."
"How much did he pay you?"
"Not enough."
Bruce snorted, he had had enough of this loathsome prick who had almost caused the death of his daughter. He marched to his desk and picked up the phone. "Alexa, please come to my office." He slammed it down without waiting for an answer.
He opened his door and called one of the military police. "Hand me your cuffs, Corporal."
The man walked closer, fiddling to get the cuffs off his belt.
Bruce grabbed them and marched over to Dumas. "I don't know what the procedure is in France, but you have the rights to a damn shitty lawyer, and you have the right to shut your damn mouth or I'll shut it for you, you prick," he shouted. "Now stand up."
The Military Policeman's eyes widened. "Sir, I cannot allow you to—“
Bruce turned around. "You stay out of this."
The man nodded and watched as Bruce slapped a cuff onto Dumas' wrist, roughly turn him around and cuff his arms behind his back. Dumas had the look of a lamb being led to slaughter, like he had given up all hope.
Bruce shoved him into his chair. "Sit and shut up. We wait for the Captain."
Dumas dropped his chin onto his chest, his eyes closed. He sat there, rocking slowly in his chair.
Bruce resisted the urge to slap him through his face. "Watch him," he ordered the MP.
The man nodded, his eyes wide.
Alexa strode into the room, a questioning look on her face. "Dad? What's going on?"
Bruce was fuming. He stood next to Henrie Dumas who had his hands cuffed behind his back, pointing an accusing finger at his face. He's a damn traitor, Alexa," he shouted.
Alexa sat on Bruce's desk. "Why? What did he do?"
Bruce threw his hands in the air. "He's been leaking information to Sonti. Agent locations, upcoming missions, everything."
"Is this true?" Alexa asked.
Dumas opened his eyes, a dour expression on his face. He nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
Dumas pursed his lips and shrugged. "Carrot and stick. Money, blackmail, threatening to kill my family. The usual terrorist modus operandi."
Bruce placed his hands on his hips. "Who else is on his payroll?"
Dumas sighed. "More people than you could ever imagine, Colonel. Interpol is a viper's nest filled with people supplying him with information."
"But how is that possible?" Alexa asked.
"He knows many people, knows a lot about their personal lives. I guess he blackmailed some, bribed the others." He glanced up at Bruce. "He seems to have an infinite amount of funding available."
Bruce stood, his hands clasping open and closed, not knowing what to say. "You put Alexa's life in danger."
"I didn't mean to."
Bruce strode up to him and backhanded him through his face. "You almost had my baby killed, you bastard," he shouted, standing, bent over in front of him.
He raised his hand again but Alexa caught it. "Wait, Colonel."
Bruce turned to Alexa. "But don't you understand?"
"I understand, dad, but this is not making matters any better."
Henrie Dumas licked the blood from the side of his mouth. "Do you always lash out at men who cannot protect themselves?"
Bruce pulled his hand free and pointed a finger in his face. "You want to play with the big boys, you better be able to take as much as you give, you bastard."
Dumas cowered in his chair, turning his head away and closing his eyes.
Alexa pulled Bruce back. "Dad, you have to calm down."
Dumas swallowed. "I've signed my death warrant, you know?"
They turned towards him. His face was red and swollen from the blow, his lower lip quivering.
"By telling you, he's going to wipe out my family. And then he'll come get me. He'll torture us, make us regret the day we were born."
"Good," Bruce said, turning his back on the man.
Alexa ambled towards Dumas. "Coming to us and admitting your crimes was brave, Mr Dumas. I don't understand why you did it, but at least you have come clean."
Dumas swallowed. "I'm sorry. I'm ashamed, I've let my country down, I've let my people down."
"You're right," Bruce said, still fuming.
Dumas' face contorted in fear. "They're going to kill my family, Bruce."
Alexa pulled Dumas to his feet. "Not if we can help it." She turned around towards Bruce. "Isn't that right, Colonel?"
Bruce snorted.
"Isn't that right, Colonel?" Alexa asked, the sides of her mouth turned up, her eyes sparking mischievously.
Bruce waved a hand.
Alexa turned to the Military Policeman. "Uncuff him."
The man fiddled with the cuffs and removed them from Dumas' wrists. Dumas turned to face Alexa, rubbing his wrists, a grateful look on his face.
"You're going to help us," Alexa said.
"How?"
"You're going to make a phone call." She turned to Bruce. "Who else knows that you arrested him?"
Bruce nodded his chin at the MP. "Only him."
Alexa strode to the man. "You keep your mouth shut about this, okay?"
The MP gave Alexa a wide-eyed nod.
"That's an order. You know nothing of what happened here today. You heard nothing, you saw nothing."
The man nodded, a surprised look on his face.
She turned to Bruce and Dumas. "Okay, this is what we do."
Allan Sonti sipped his whiskey as he flipped open the file in front of him. "This is her," he said and pushed the file to Lewis Collingwood.
The dreadlocked man studied the photo. "She's a pretty little sister, man."
Sonti nodded, popping a pretzel in his mouth. "Don't let her looks deceive you, my friend. She's as lethal as a jaguar and smart to boot."
"Foxy," the man grinned. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing a thick finger at the photo of Laiveaux wearing his white Kepi and dark glasses.
"General Alain Laiveaux, her commander," he said and tossed a pretzel to the Alsatian lying beside the door. The dog caught it with a snap, swallowed it and lay his head back down on his paws.
Collingwood read the short report stating Laiveaux's name and badge number. "This is all we have?" he asked, flexing his muscular shoulders.
Sonti took a leisurely sip of his drink, leaned back and placed his feet on the mahogany desk. "He's very secretive."
He picked up another black-and-white photograph, this time with Alexa and Laiveaux strolling down the road, arms hooked into each other's. "This girl, she's his lover?"
Sonti chuckled. "No brother, you're heading down a dead end. He's like a father to her."
"And this one?" he asked, drumming his forefinger on another photo.
Sonti sat up and checked. Alexa was sitting on a chair next to Laiveaux who was lying in a hospital bed. Their heads were close together, locked in a private conversation. "A couple of days after she extracted Laiveaux."
"How's he doing, man?"
Sonti sighed. "Fine, He should be out in a week or two. Tough bloody bastard." He pulled another photo from the file, then tossed it to Collingwood. "That's her father."
Collingwood's eyebrows shot up. "Bryden? I never knew he had a daughter."
"He adopted her when she was a kid. Her real dad was Zachary Cohen, Shin Beth."
Collingwood sat bolt upright. "Major Zachary Cohen, Mossad?"
"Now do you understand who we're dealing with?"
Collingwood whistled. "Cohen's brains, Bryden's training. This kitty cat is a lethal little cocktail. Where did she serve?"
"French Foreign Legion."
The black man threw his head back and roared with laughter. "You're kidding me?"
Sonti shook his head slowly, sat up straight. "You s
ee Lewis, this game is all about finding the patterns."
"Shit man, we have an interesting little soap opera if you ask me."
Sonti stood up and refilled his drink from the whiskey bottle. "No, Lewis. I think we may have found the chink in the ISIU’s armor."
"Guerra?"
He nodded. "Take her out and the whole damn unit collapses like a house of cards."
"Does she have any family? A husband, kids?"
"None that I know of."
Collingwood stood up, his large muscles flexing beneath the tight T-shirt. "Okay, I'll find out."
Sonti pointed a finger. "You don't touch her, you hear me?"
Collingwood lifted his thumbs and pointed it at himself. "Who, me?"
Sonti's phone rang, but he didn't answer. "I'll let you know when we move in."
The man nodded and strode towards the door.
The Alsatian sat up. "Nero, down boy."
The dog lay back down, and Collingwood marched out of the office, closing the door behind him.
Sonti glanced at his phone. The man was persistent. He had received a dozen calls but had ignored them all. What the hell. He pressed the answer button. "What do you want, Henrie?"
Henrie Dumas’ voice sounded strained, like he was trying to hold back the tears. "Look Allan, I made a mistake."
"You sure as hell did."
"I want to re-consider my...position."
Sonti chuckled. "Now Henrie, you know I don't work like that."
"I want you to make an exception, just this once."
Sonti considered this for a while. "Why?"
"Because I'll do anything you say. I won't let you down again, I swear," he said, his voice trembling.
Sonti lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. This could work in his favor. But he had to be smart about it. "Okay, Henrie. This is how it's going to work. You're going to sit in that smart little office of yours, and you're going to keep your mouth shut and wait for my orders."
"Thank you, Allan."
Sonti snorted. "You've bought yourself an extra life, Mr. Dumas."
"Thank you so much, Allan."
He disconnected the call and shook his head. If you wanted loyalty, get a dog. He tossed the Alsatian another pretzel and the dog caught it with a snap and lay his head back down on his paws.