Belmopan

by B French

  slightly to

  over his languid body. Rolling him attempt arousal, he lay limp and unresponsive.

  Panicked, Sandy slapped his face, then slapped it gain. “Wake up you oaf.” Yet unresponsive, he laid, his mouth open with drool oozing from one side.

  “Oops,” she groaned, looking about her to see if anyone had noticed the incident. The only person she observed in the immediate vicinity was Brian, unfazed, and Carolyn aimlessly wandering the pathways surrounding the garden.

  Sandy rose to return to the cart and remove the clothes that were key in implementing the ruse. Leaving the sheltered area, she looked back to see how noticeable the brute was from the path. Unless someone followed the exact route, there was no way he would be noticed. Somewhat concerned for his wellbeing, as misguided as it appeared to be, Sandy returned to the prone man lying unconscious in the cool, isolated spot and checked to see whether he was still alive. His breathing was steady and deep. Scanning the immediate area, a sly smile rose to her face. She lifted the loose, grubby dress to expose the tightfitting, grey skirt of her uniform. Shimmying it up over her thighs, she gently slid her panties down and gingerly stepped out of them. Looking about once more, she leaned over and shoved the black, lace fabric into his open, rictus mouth, “Here, choke on these.”

  Sandy, back at the cart, began packing the used articles to where they belonged. Brushing the face of her phone, “Delbert, what is the driver doing?”

  “Uhh,” he sighed, looking over his paper to the opposite truck. “He appears to be talking on his cell.”

  The driver unable to get a response on the phone to his partner, opened the door a crack, ready to make a move if need be.

  Alerted to his action, Delbert placed his hand on the knob of the door ready to close it and spring into action.

  “Delbert, don’t allow him to come this way under any circumstances!”

  With possible situations racing through his mind, Delbert started the truck immediately. As the driver of the other vehicle slipped from his seat, Delbert’s SUV shot across the expanse in seconds and slammed into the door. Trapped, panicked, and pinned, he spat with bulging eyes, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing.”

  Delbert easing himself from the seat and around to face the confined driver, “Stay where you are.” Reaching for what Delbert presumed was a gun he yelled, “Don’t move.”

  With people starting to surround the vehicles, Delbert flashed his security badge and screamed at the crowd to stay back.

  “You son-of-a-bitch! You back that truck up, or so help me.”

  “Or so help me what,” Delbert replied?

  Squirming like a stuck pig, the driver dropped his phone by accident on the pavement by his feet. Wriggling more, he was able to reach his arm around the door-support to grab the steel, front edge of the window brace by the wind-shield. Slowly, Delbert reentered the driver’s seat in his truck, and with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake, he was able to apply a few more pounds of calculated pressure on the drivers sternum. He watched as the assailant’s eyes began to bulge, and his face turn red. Eventually succumbing to the pressure, and banging the door with great force to reflect submission, he waved his hand. Delbert eased a fraction off on the pressure. The people, milling around the two vehicles, watched in bewildered amazement. Delbert waited to hear from Sandy.

  Pleased with herself, Sandy quickly replaced the used clothes and hat back into the approximate location they were in before she borrowed them and chased after Carolyn who was still wandering the pathways.

  “There you are Carolyn. I must have missed as you walked around the other way.”

  Angered, and unable to control her emotions, Carolyn threw her coffee in the direction of Sandy. “Here’s your coffee. I don’t like you anymore.” With those words, she grabbed her cart from Sandy and shuffled off, dejected, trying to avoid the cracks and uneven portions of the cement walkway.

  Sitting back where she had originally been on the wall, across from the Shamrock, Sandy felt remorse at what she had had to do, but knew there was no choice. She had possibly saved a man’s life, and Carolyn had been a part of it. Observing the man she had protected, answering his phone, Sandy got up and entered the serene, little park. Brian, paying no attention to her, sat back for a few minutes and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. Bending forward, he then rested his elbows to his knees and stared at the weathered, concrete path before him. Taking the opportunity at hand, she casually strode to the open space beside him on the bench and sat down.

  Peaceful, isn’t it,” Sandy stated without looking at him.

  He lifted himself straight and looked at the pixie, cute face beneath a shock of ruffled, mouse-colored hair. Noticing the small, security pin and insurance logo, on the upper portion of her jacket lapel, he replied, “Yes, it is.”

  Taking a breath so deep that it appeared to tickle the bottoms of her lungs, she then exhaled with such force he looked sideways at her.

  “It sounds as if you’ve had an exasperating day?”

  “Not really,” Sandy replied, but returned thoughtfully, “well, parts of it.”

  “It must be difficult dealing with people sometimes. I saw the lady throw her coffee at you.”

  “Well,” Sandy replied, with guarded cynicism, “It was my coffee.” She bowed her head as she considered the last fifteen minutes of orchestration, “It was my own fault. I had been insensitive to her situation, and well, I deserved it.”

  Just then Sandy’s phone rang, “Delbert! Is all well?” She made no motion and listened intently to the voice on the other end, “I’ll be right there.”

  Looking at Brian and considering what might have been, “I gotta go,” she uttered, tears of elation welling in the corners of her eyes.

  “Well, nice to meet you, uh,” he sighed, questioningly.

  “Sandy! My name is Sandy,” she replied.

  “Nice to meet you Sandy. My name is Brian Alexander.”

  Their eyes met, and he, noticing the sparkle of a tear at the outer corner of her eye, took her hand in a cordial shake.

  “Take care of yourself Mr. Alexander,” she answered with a degree of consternation and got up to leave. His eyes followed her around the remaining arc of the path that led to the exit, opposite to where she had entered.

  Several students had gathered on the other side of the adjacent pathway, making advances into the dense bushes. Allowed only fleeting shadows and muffled conversation, he became inquisitive and got up to see what the fuss was about. Strolling to where he could see through the flowering Hydrangeas and lush ferns, the first object to come into view was the muzzle of a pistol. Kneeling down and reaching in to spread the radials of the Northern Fern, he was shocked to see the groaning mass of a man lying prone. Realizing the intent of his action, with the rest of the makeshift rifle pointing in direct line with the bench on which he had sat; Brian cautiously rose to retreat out of the garden. Warily looking form side to side, he scanned for any sign of another assailant. Confident all was well and back on King’s Lane amid the student traffic, Brian felt more at ease.

  Heading up the incline, he was confronted by the mournful, bag lady trying to navigate the few steps leading up between Smith and Miller Halls. Greeting her with trepidation, he grabbed the front end of the overloaded cart and helped her to the top. Leaving her with a nod, he continued up the lane and on to Denny Hall; his phone chimed, it was Shawna.

  Delbert had watched the driver of the truck, jammed in the door, squirm for several minutes then slowly relax and resign to the fact he would be going no-where. Picking up the phone from the ground and redialing the number, he waited while the phone rang to its taped message and hung up. Scanning through the last several numbers, Delbert came to the unfamiliar area code 501. Slipping the phone in his pocket, he skirted the rear of the truck and eased into the passenger seat, careful not to get within reach of the trapped masher. Rifling through the vehicles papers, he could find no identifyin
g documents except for the rental agreement.

  “Let me go, asshole,” came the belligerent grunt of the ensnared gorilla.

  “Do you have a license for this,” Delbert snidely asked, poking the Smith and Wesson revolver with the rubber end of his pencil. Heavy and awkward, he slid it to the edge of the seat and into his gloved hand.

  “What do you think, jerk,” he scowled.

  Easing himself from the truck, Delbert looked in the direction of the Allen Library and could see Sandy briskly walking in his direction. Both entering their truck from either side, they sat watching the squirming goon from beyond the hood; he was sweating profusely.

  “What do you think we should do,” Delbert asked placing the revolver down on the consul between the seats.

  “Well,” Sandy considered thoughtfully. “The other fellow is unconscious in the bushes the other side of the library, at least I hope so. This guy is trapped for now. If the police don’t come and we let these guys go, they’ll beat us to a pulp, or kill us, and still go after Brian.”

  “We could squish this guy and fane insanity!” “Right, Delbert,” she sighed, and then considered. “But you might be on to something; if we could somehow get them to back off.” She sat pensive looking at the driver who glared back at her. “They are certainly not afraid of us, or anything we could threaten them with; but what about failure. What if they didn’t do the job, or lied about it?”

  They both sat watching from their seats as the small crowd standing off to the side of the circle talked and pointed. “We’d better do something soon. I wish I had of grabbed the guy’s phone, we could have….”

  Delbert reached into his pocket and pulled out a black cellular, “Will this do?”

  “His,” Sandy nodded bewilderingly toward the driver.

  “Yep,” he smiled from ear to ear! “I think I have a number, and an idea.”

  Getting out of the truck, Sandy walked over to the driver with the phone in one hand and a pair of cuffs in the other. Delbert put the truck in gear and placed his foot on the gas and brake, and started to put more pressure on the trapped driver.

  Swearing and screaming, he turned a bright red and yelled, “Stop!”

  Easing his foot off the gas, Delbert released the pressure just enough for him to breath.

  “I think you have a phone call to make,” Sandy stated.

  “OK! OK!” he gasped, trying to move air into his lungs. “What do you want me to say?”

  “This 501 number, where is it?”

  “Belize.”

  “Stretch out your arm.” Clamping the cuff on his wrist, with renewed courage, Sandy pulled the remaining stainless-steel cuff to the window style, and clamped down. “Is this the contact that ordered the hit?”

  He nodded gingerly.

  “All you have to do is say the job is done, and you go free.”

  He thought for a moment looking at Delbert behind the wheel, and then back to Sandy, phone in hand. The driver nodded; Sandy pushed the dial button. A short and near wordless conversation alluding to the mark’s termination ensued. With a nod, the driver acknowledged the confirmation, and looked to the cuffs.

  Accommodating the driver, Sandy returned to passenger seat, pointed in the direction of the library, and yelled, “He’s that way. And enjoy the money; noone needs to know.”

  Delbert, with the Smith and Wesson resting on the dash pointing in the driver’s direction, slowly eased the vehicle into reverse and back away.

  Clamping his chest and falling temporarily to the ground, the driver watched as the black SUV gradually pulled away out of Johnson’s Circle, back down passed the Molecular Engineering building, and on to Gate 5. Delbert watched in the side-view mirror as a running figure dashed down the lane and disappeared behind the library.

  SIXTEEN The little, pregnant lady, barely four inches tall, looked stunning within the confines of the display cabinet. Still, and expectant in travail, the small figurine knelt elevated on a black, velvet throw. She was radiant beneath the halogen light that pointed directly at her from above. Her large breasts were an earth-tone color of golden-ochre, and below across her protruding belly, raw-umber bleeding into burnt as it flowed between her parted thighs; these colors were accented only by a thick layer of madder-colored hair wrapped loosely on the top of her head. The display was only a temporary fix within the staff office area, to appease the inquisitive anticipation that surrounded her coming; a permanent site would be forth coming.

  Julie gave a hug to Shawna as she prepared to leave the confines of the museum. Riding down the escalator, Shawna turned and gave her a parting wave before she exited. Out through the large, glassed, front entry doors and into the warm and late-spring air, she rummaged through her purse to find her phone and pushed the touch-tone face to dial Brian. Amid the blossoms of the surrounding Dogwood trees, she plodded along the cement walkway, talking intently. She zigzagged the pathways passed Number Two Gate and back to the parking lot.

  The staff had thinned in the early afternoon at the office when Delbert and Sandy finally arrived. The office director and liaise between North American subsidiaries, had been calling every ten minutes since the mystery call had been made to Area Code 501. Not able to get to proper facilities to clean up, let alone home for a shower, the two dragged themselves into the empty board-room. A large, shiny, mahogany table, with burgundy, leather-backed chairs lined its perimeter; a panoramic view of the wharf and bay was all that greeted them.

  After several, timeless minutes, they were startled by the door quickly being opened by the director

  “Well, how’d it go,” Mr. Katz asked, as he seated himself at the head? Seeming oblivious to any of the situations that had gone on, he motioned them to sit.

  “Well,” they both slowly replied in unison, looking toward each other for support.

  “OK,” Sandy finally stated with reserve. Delbert nodded his head in affirmation.

  They both again nodded and did not offer anything else in reply. The director looked at them both and tried to formulate the words to milk a report out of them.

  “I’ve recently had a call from Belize for an update on your surveillance of the couple that landed from Mexico; and told them I would phone back as soon as I had something to give them.”

  Sandy and Delbert sat idle, not offering any explanations.

  “Well!” Katz half blurted. “I don’t need to know all the details, just how it ended up!”

  “Umm,” Sandy started. “A couple of other guys took over when we got to the university, and we were not all that sure what all happened after that.” She stopped and looked at him bewildered.

  Then Delbert started in, “I followed the one in the truck after we had been asked to leave the surveillance.” He rubbed the side of his leg, “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I wasn’t sure what they were up to, and uh…” he stammered.

  Sandy picking up the pace, “After they left us, I followed the other guy, but couldn’t find him. Eventually, I saw a group of students huddling around a bunch of bushes deep in the interior of the grounds. There was a fellow lying there on his side, not moving. I thought about getting closer, but thought twice about it considering the fact I have a security uniform with our company logo on it. They would have expected me to do something. I would have then become involved.”

  “That was probably wise,” Katz replied. “So you think it was the fellow from Mexico lying in the bushes?” Sandy said nothing. Rubbing his hand along his face in concern, “Did an ambulance come? Or anybody,” he asked, with apprehension reflected on his face?

  “I saw the driver of their vehicle run off in the direction where I suppose,” he shrugged, “the body was.”

  “Did you follow him?” the director asked of Delbert, who shook his head no. “It went beyond surveillance, didn’t it,” the director suggested with a knowing grin?

  “We think so, sir,” Sandy returned without emotion.

  “Alright then,” Katz stated, without looking at
their faces. “Do me a favor; don’t mention this to anyone, please. Until I have all the details, it is best left unspoken.” He went to leave the room and turned back, “And go clean up. You look terrible, both of you.”

  The director entered his office and closed the door. Approaching his desk, he lifted the phone and pushed the key to a preprogramed number and spoke, “Extension 421.” He listened intently to the voice on the other end waiting for confirmation, “There is a body, and an ID,” Katz whispered into the phone and was silent. “Yes, sir,” he replied, “As far as we know, the girl has been unharmed.” Hesitation again, “No sir, not at present, but we will sir.”

  A south westerly was whipping the surf into frenzy as Brian and Shawna passed Oak Harbor on their way to the ferry terminal at Coupeville. The terminal was the farthest western point of Puget Sound, on Admiralty Bay, and allowed the shortest travel time over to Port Townshend; the alternative was a lengthy drive west from Olympia and up the eastern coast of the Olympic Peninsula along a winding, scenic, but time-consuming road.

  Turning into the ferry lanes from S. Engle Rd, Brian pulled over to the drop-off area and waited for Shawna to return with her ticket. There would only be a half hour wait as the ferry was docking and the stopover was just an hour. One of her cousins would meet Shawna at Port Townshend to take her to Neah Bay, and on to her grandparent’s house, by the coast further along.

  “Will you be alright,” Shawna inquired, as she fingered through her purse to find an accessible spot for the ticket within its confines?