Paradise (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant)

by O. L. Casper

  “How do I read the big picture?”

  I paused for due consideration. I didn’t want to give away all my cards, even to my partner.

  “Stafford is a brute. It’s true. But he’s a cunning brute. I say he is a brute because he has strength and he wields it. But he is highly aware of what he’s doing. I even fear he may be able to use his clout against us. I don’t know how he would do this. Only that he almost certainly will.”

  “Will you get him in the end?”

  Haverstock smiled.

  “Will we get him?” I corrected.

  “Yes. Will we? Though everyone considers you the brains of the operation. Even your superiors.”

  “Obviously they don’t have much brains calling the operation something like Neptune’s Trident. Isn’t that similar to a recent war operation?”

  “Yes. Something to get al-Qaeda, I believe.”

  Haverstock shifted in his cramped seat.

  “That is a small bit of ignorance. The bigger bit is not getting us the warrants we need to go through Stafford’s digital communication as thoroughly as necessary.”

  “Obviously that’s a bit stupid. But why do you think they’re keeping us in the dark, Carter?”

  “Because, Haverstock, clearly they don’t know what they’re doing. It’s an issue of internal politics, I suppose. But, all things considered, they are in the dark just as much as we are.”

  After a bit of reflection, my old friend continued, “How would you break down the case at this point in time?”

  “We have three suspects. One, Mark Stafford. Two, Sophia Durant. Three, an unknown party.”

  “The third could be more than one person. I mean potentially—right?”

  “That’s true. But unlikely. Though, I will not rule it out altogether.”

  “What gives you so much hope? I mean, why are you so optimistic about your success—our success—in this case? Is it just a hunch?”

  “More of a prognostication.”

  “Like a prognosis?”

  “More like a prediction.”

  “Anybody’s guess…”

  “No. I’m going on more than that. But I won’t let you in on all my thought processes just yet…”

  “In case you’re wrong…”

  “In case I’m right.” I smiled. “Let me elaborate. Serial killing—and I am going to commit to the theory that this is that—continues for a length of time, but, as with the gambler, luck eventually runs against them. Take roulette, for example. The ball falls on the black or the red. Sometimes successively on one or the other. But we all know, inevitably it will fall on the other color. It may run for minutes, hours, days even on red—but eventually, in the fullness of time, it lands on black.”

  “This is what you base your prognostication on? Speculation, gambling…” Haverstock deflated.

  “No. Rather it is mathematical truth that I base my foretelling on. The murderer, I would venture to say, is new at the game. They have not taken into consideration this fact. With every killing, and every escape from justice, the killer becomes inflated with a more and more exaggerated opinion of his or her own abilities. Errors occur as they invariably do. Errors in judgment, errors in execution. No pun intended.”

  Haverstock laughed.

  “I know my wording is not quite right. But you divine the thought behind it. You see my reasoning.”

  “Indeed I do. And as to the facts?”

  “What about them?”

  Haverstock leaned in and whispered, “I know that busy brain of yours—that fevered brain—has gone over each scenario at least hundreds of times. How do you make it all out? Who is the strongest suspect in the case?”

  “In answer to that—I will have to wait. I am sorry if I have let you down.”

  “It’s the opposite, Carter. The suspense of not knowing has given me a kick in the ass, if you will. I’ll now go back over the case. Over and over. Till I draw some conclusions. You’ve inspired me.”

  I took his last piece on the checkerboard, noticing for a brief moment the red and black squares.

  Sophia Durant’s Diary

  November 24, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

  As I lay on the bed in my room at the villa, I felt myself decompress emotionally from the long journey to the Seychelles. I began to arrange the trip in my mind while I tried to ward off any apprehensive feelings about the future. The time spent in the Seychelles marked no further progress in any of my aims. Now there was another obstacle to success in the form of Emily Mordaunt. Who the fuck is Emily Mordaunt? Just another piece of ass for Stafford? Or something more? At first I thought her too stifled, too reserved for Stafford. But then I remembered Isabella Gardner. Perhaps that’s his type. Perhaps I’m too wild and too liberal for his liking. I set aside these questions for an analysis of events in hopes that I would discern an appropriate future course to obtain my objectives. On my return I had received Carter’s latest note to self in Minerva and read through it with some glee. It was interesting to find myself on the list of the “three” potential suspects. It appears I am only on this list because of my proximity to Stafford as well as to (in their minds) two of the dead women. Since they haven’t discovered any damning evidence against anyone they haven’t ruled me out. I particularly liked Carter’s analogy to roulette, and the probability of the ball landing on the red and black squares. It didn’t worry me in the slightest. It just made me think of the fact that the majority of serial killers get away with it, and wonder at his incompetence at either not realizing this or not taking it into consideration. He’s the one who’s overconfident. Especially considering the fact he knows nothing, and has no leads or evidence pointing him in the right direction. Still, I would’ve liked to know his inner thoughts. To know who he really suspected and why.

  While thinking things over I got a text from the Special Agent asking for a meeting in Governor’s Harbour the next morning. I suggested we meet at a marina overlooking Tarpum Bay and he agreed. After seeing his last few diary entries I would be curious to broach certain subjects with him. I was still furious with him for spying on me during my nighttime foray on the beach with Stafford. And I was curious to observe him to see if he betrayed his affection for me in any way over the course of our meeting. To see those little black eyes studying me and to discern the thoughts behind them, I looked forward to the meeting very much. Perhaps it would give me the much needed break from Stafford and his entourage, affording me the time to consider my next move.

  He received a call from Emily as soon as he got back. I listened to a recording of it in Minerva. I’ll set down some of it here.

  “I’ve only been away from you a few days and I miss you already,” she said in a soft, demure voice.

  “You’ll have to fly out and see me first chance.”

  “I think I will.”

  “That’d be lovely.” I hated his charming use of the English vernacular.

  “Don’t start talking like a Brit now or I won’t like you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’m coming to see you, first flight out.”

  “I still won’t see you for about three days then.”

  “I’ll see you in three days…I mean, is that alright? I don’t want to impinge…”

  “Impinge…you don’t hear that word every day.”

  “Don’t mock what I say. Would you like to see me or would you like to see me?” The end of the sentence was a seductive purring.

  “I would like that very much. You’re quite charming, you know.”

  He was speaking in the way he expected her to. This was part of his brilliance in rapidly assimilating a woman’s mind. I was disgusted with him for using it on her.

  At first light I met Carter at the marina in Governor’s Harbour. We walked along the dock, surveying the various boats as we talked in a conversation that felt more like an interrogation.

  “What is this bullshit?” he started.

  “Excuse me.”

  I glared
at him.

  “You’re messing with me, Sophia.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You’re playing us, just like you’re playing Stafford.”

  I’d had enough. I decided to turn it on him.

  “I’m playing you? You’re spying on us while we’re fucking on the beach.” I said it harshly in a very dry, cold tone.

  He looked at me penetratingly with a curious expression on his face.

  “What are you talking about, Sophia?”

  “You can stop saying my name; I know who you’re talking to.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “You’re trying to divert the attention away from yourself. You spied on us on the beach. Did you like what you saw?”

  He looked down.

  “But how can you know about that?”

  “A little bird told me.”

  “How can you know, seriously? To spy on us would be illegal.”

  “In what country?”

  He caught my drift.

  “Do you want me to take you in for a real interrogation? That’s what some of the team wants.”

  “I don’t care if you do. I’m not afraid of you or your organization.”

  “Do you realize what you’re up against, Sophia? I’m trying to protect you. I don’t want to see you go in for anything.”

  I stopped walking and turned to face him.

  “Why? Why would you do that? What interest do you have in protecting me? How do you benefit?”

  His eyes evaded my gaze. I was growing impatient with this mock interrogation. Finally he looked up at me with a seriousness that made me take a step back.

  “We know you know more than you’re letting on. A lot more. We know you’re not holding up your end of the bargain. It could mean serious trouble for you. But we’re getting just enough from you to keep us at bay. What about Mark? Is he getting just enough too? What are you telling him about us? What are you feeding him?”

  I looked around before looking back at him. We were alone. There was no one in any direction so far as I could see.

  “Is Haverstock watching us now?”

  “Haverstock? You know my partner’s name…”

  “Is anyone else watching?”

  “No.”

  “You swear?”

  “I promise. No one else is watching. I give you my word, Sophia. I’m not allowed to lie to you in this arrangement.”

  I leaned in and kissed him hard. I pushed my tongue into his mouth. He closed his eyes and continued the kiss for a few seconds before breaking it off.

  “Did you lose self control?” I asked heatedly.

  “I may have for a minute. Was that your way of testing the truth of what I was saying?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? What else was it, if not that?”

  “What’s with all the damn questions? Is this your way of interrogating me so they don’t have to?”

  He shook his head.

  “What do you want? You want to take me into some hotel room around here?”

  He blushed.

  “I couldn’t do that,” he said.

  “Call off the watchdogs and you can.”

  “I couldn’t do that for my own peace of mind. My own integrity.”

  “You have integrity now?”

  I leaned in, inches from his face.

  “I never lost it. I may have kissed you a second too long. But what was I to do?” He smiled. “You are a very attractive woman. I am just a man. I was caught up in the moment. I’m not caught up anymore.”

  But he was. I could see it in his eyes.

  “Even if I could get away from the rest of them and get into a hotel with you, I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. My job’s more important.”

  “What if it was part of your job? What if seducing me came with the territory?”

  “Come on…I am not a spy, Sophia. I’m a mere federal investigator.”

  “I know you’re attracted to me. I know you have what you think of as feelings. I’m not stupid, Mr. Carter. Not that stupid.”

  “Can I ask you something, ma’am?”

  “Anything.”

  “What else do you know…about us? About what we’re doing in the investigation?”

  “Not a whole lot. I do a little research, I guess and check. I get lucky. Sometimes I’m wrong. Sometimes not.”

  “What have you been wrong about?”

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  “I thought you were a little more—how should I say it?—above the fray.”

  “No, no, Ms. Durant. I’m right down in it. I need to get on with it though and ask you some direct questions about the case, now that we’ve got our heated emotions out of the way.”

  “When’s the last time you got laid, Mr. Carter?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, shall I, Ms. Durant?” he said with a smile. “I think you’re not being as candid as you could be.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What do you know about Omar Massood that we don’t know?”

  “I haven’t heard anything about him since the meeting.”

  “Sure you have. Mark talks about all his private affairs with you.”

  “Really—he doesn’t.”

  “Sure he does. I can understand keeping some things between the two of you. I expect it. I don’t want to know everything. I just want relevant facts. I want to report back to my boss at the end of the day with some fresh information. Something to let him know we are making progress. I have a responsibility in this case, Sophia.”

  “What would satisfy your curiosity, Glenn?”

  “Give me something. Anything. You know the kind of information that would be useful to me. Lay it on me.”

  He looked at me with a half-smile. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to take him seriously or not.

  “If you don’t give me what I’m looking for…let this be a warning. Things will start to change. Life may get a little rough for you.”

  “Threatening me won’t work.”

  “These aren’t threats. This case is beyond my control in every direction. Everywhere I look I see someone who is above me. You, other witnesses—I am serving you and them.”

  “Other witnesses…?” I hadn’t thought of the possibility.

  “Yes. You’re not the only one we’re talking to. Of course you must have already known that. You seem to know everything else.”

  “Do I?”

  “Back to the point—it is information I want and information I need. If I don’t get anything from you in this way—if I go back to my boss empty-handed, then we will have to find other ways of getting the necessary information.”

  “What other ways?”

  “That is all I’m at liberty to say at present. I can say no more.”

  I thought about what information I might be able to appease him with.

  “He’s got a new girlfriend.”

  “He’s replaced you?”

  “Not yet. I don’t know if he will. Her name is…”

  “—Emily Mordaunt. Yes, we know about her. We watch him. We know who he talks to.”

  “I know some of the inner details of the relationship. I’ve got information that might help you, it might not—we’ll see.”

  “Go on. It could be helpful.”

  Special Agent Glenn Carter’s Notes

  November 23, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

  I met Sophia Durant in the marina at Governor’s Harbour. The location was her idea, the meeting was mine. I wanted to give her one last chance to provide some information of value before she was pulled in for an interrogation. I think I came on too strong in the beginning, but Ms. Durant immediately leveled the playing field. She professed knowledge of the FBI spying on her in the Seychelles. Of course she was right. She discussed specific details of our operation that she could have only known by spying. But how did she do it? I couldn’t think of any possible way she could have received the inform
ation she knew. Unless there was someone at STF who was passing along information. Or if she had access to our computers. Neither seemed likely. At one point in the conversation she kissed me. It was after she found out we were alone together. I broke it off right away. It was strange. Why did she do it? It happened after asking me why I was trying to help her. It’s as though she knows how I feel about her. But that’s nearly impossible. I never let on. Female intuition, I guess.

  I pressed her for any useful information. She came around after two or three attempts to get it.

  “Emily Mordaunt,” she began. “I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure she’s part of his secret operation.”

  “How so?” I asked, doubtful of the veracity of the statement.

  “She’s a kind of contact point. Her function is to let him into a circle in the Mideast, somewhere he wouldn’t otherwise have access to.”

  “A new node in the equation…”

  I was merely playing along. But when she mentioned the Mideast circle I began to think there may be some kind of substance to her claim.

  “Something like that. Look into her background. Look for any connections to any Arab sheiks, any energy company billionaires looking to wage war on the United States via the terrorist route.”

  “I can’t tell whether you’re telling the truth or not. I admit, in the beginning, I was doubtful. Now I’m not sure. You have an elaborate way of mixing fact with fiction. I just don’t know what to believe.

  “You don’t have to believe me, Glenn. I’ll bring proof, if you and your outfit can’t find it.”

  I was beginning to believe what she was saying. When I got back to the hotel I began working with Haverstock on an extensive check into certain parts of Ms. Mordaunt’s past.

  Sophia Durant’s Diary (continued)

  I made up some dubious “Mideast” connection that Stafford was to obtain through Emily. I told my tale with detail, clarity, and confidence. I still only half-expected him to buy it. But he did. Hook, line, and sinker.

  Mark Stafford’s Notes

  November 26

  Sophia is getting more incomprehensible and harder to read by the day. I believe she suffers from some kind of nervous disorder I’d like to have diagnosed. She is a strange girl. I love her deeply and she definitely has a place in my future. But it’s becoming less clear as to what that place might be. There was a time when I thought I would marry her. I still want to, but my thoughts—whenever I think about her—are muddled in the extreme. It’s as though she’s become a kind of stranger. I don’t know what to do. Maybe she’s just a mindfuck who enjoys confounding me into a foggy, disjointed oblivion. I can’t say I’ve ever felt so deeply for a woman. That’s what I’ve come back to this diary to sort out. But the more I think about it, the more confused I get. If Sophia is at all serious about a future with me, I need some kind of a sign from her soon.