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Green Eyed Burn

Page 12

by David A. Lloyd


  “Wonderful,” John said solemnly. He slipped from her embrace and stepped into the apartment.

  Her dark brows knitted together. “You don’t sound very happy.” She pushed the door shut behind her and followed him in. “We’re alive. Kurt just told me Metro’s got Smyles and DeTully in lockup. It’s over.”

  “Is it?”

  “For us.”

  John did not reply.

  Catherine glanced around the apartment, then back at John. “I’m going to take a shower. What about you?”

  “Later,” he said and remained standing in the middle of the living area. Catherine sashayed toward the washroom. Then with a slight glance over her shoulder she entered, leaving the door slightly ajar. After a moment John heard the water running. He crossed the apartment and peeked around the vanity. Yep, one bed. John found a smile. He cast a glance toward the sound of running water. He then touched the spot on his arm where Bonita took the blood and the smile slowly left his face. John crossed the couch and dropped heavily into it. What are you doing Riel?

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  GREEN-EYED BURN

  Something big is happening. No shit. He felt his eyes grow heavy and within moments he was fast asleep, unaware Bonita slipped him a mild sedative.

  *****

  Catherine gingerly stepped out of the shower stall and unfolded a large pink towel. She dried her hair then wrapped the towel around herself. Peering around the doorway, Catherine spotted John sleeping on the couch. She knew better but still felt the pains of disappointment.

  Catherine slipped back into the washroom and shut the door. What are you doing, chick? She turned and faced her moisture-slicked image in the mirror. You shouldn’t have teased him like that. What the hell were you thinking? Catherine dragged her fingers down her face. Just get on with it, chick.

  Catherine adjusted the hot water and filled the sink. She then retrieved a personal grooming kit from the medicine cabinet. From it she picked out a pair of eyebrow tweezers.

  Twirling the tweezers between her fingers, Catherine glanced at the door. It was still shut. Catherine then removed her towel and slung it over the mirror facing her, knowing she just blocked out the only camera able to see what she was about to do.

  With the tweezers Catherine removed the tiny jewel clipped to her left nostril. She gently lifted the jewel from its base and exposed a five-millimeter micro-data disk coated in wax hidden underneath. With the base pinched between her thumb and forefinger, Catherine used the tweezers to pick up the disk. She studied it closely.

  This is what all the pain and suffering has been about. You better be worth it.

  Catherine placed the disk in the soap dish and replaced the jewel. She then gently fixed the accessory back on her nose. Catherine rummaged through the medicine cabinet again and found a tin of painkillers. She dumped the pills down the toilet and placed the disk in the tin, then returned it to the cabinet and the flushed the toilet.

  Catherine removed the towel from the mirror, wrapped it around her body and left the washroom. Beside the front door was a plastic box, left by Burton, filled with clothing for her and John. Catherine dug out deodorant, underwear, a bra, a pink T-shirt and denim shorts, and carried them back to the washroom and dressed. She placed the tin in her shorts pocket and left the washroom. 113

  DAVID A. LLOYD

  As Catherine was about to slip out of the apartment and retreat to her office, she stopped. She glanced at John, nibbled on her lower lip, and made a decision. Crossing the apartment with purposeful steps, Catherine sat down on the windowsill across from John, pulled her knees to her chest and watched him sleep.

  Why? You have done more for me than I ever had the right to ask. Why is that Johnny? Are you one of those individuals who will go out on a limb for a pretty face? ‘Cause you sure the hell went way out on a limb for this pretty face. Oh Johnny… while we were at the river I saw something in your eyes. A spark. Did you fall in love with me Johnny Riel?

  “Catherine?” John whispered sleepily.

  “Right here.”

  He yawned, “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Not long.”

  He noticed her change of clothing, “Nice legs.”

  Catherine smiled, “Merci beaucoup. I’m proud of them.” She then gestured toward the box by the door, and said, “There are some clean clothes here for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, “There’s only one bed…I’ll sleep here….” Then he was out.

  “Bon soir, Johnny,” Catherine whispered and for a long time she just sat there and watched him.

  *****

  Carefully, so she wouldn’t wake John, Catherine maneuvered her way through the darkened apartment toward the door. As she reached it, Catherine opened it a crack and peeked out into the hall. There was no one in sight. Barefoot, she slipped into the hall and eased the door shut behind her. Catherine padded along guilefully until she reached her office and quickly slipped inside.

  With her back to the door she blew out a low breath. Am I overdoing it?

  she wondered, then decided it was time to get to work. Catherine turned on her small desk lamp and sat down.

  Before she powered up her iMac, Catherine reached behind the tower and disconnected the jack linking her terminal to the network. She then opened the auxiliary access drawer and placed the disk in. The drawer automatically slid shut. Catherine typed:

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  GREEN-EYED BURN

  ENTER ACCESS DRAWER

  CODE?

  ENTER: WILDMAN, CATHERINE S. 099984-A

  REQUEST?

  LIST: FILE.

  UNKNOWN COMMAND.

  LIST: THE GROUP OF TEN (10)

  *****

  1).

  2). STEIN, JEFFERSON PHILIP

  3). SMYLES, RAYMOND ARCHIBALD

  4). MIEZLAISKIS, AMBER LYDIA

  5). DETULLY, SAMUEL ORVILLE

  6). WILSON, FRED DENNIS

  7). TAURIS, MAXWELL THOMAS

  8). JOHANSON, BERRY PATRICK

  9). CHAPLIN, RICHARD ALBERT

  10). D’ANGIO, ALPHONSO VICTOR

  END LIST

  Catherine sat back and studied the list. She was right. Even with the top man’s name encrypted she already knew who most of them were. Catherine typed:

  LIST: VLADIMIR ZADNEPROVSKY

  *****

  ZADNEPROVSKY, VLADIMIR VIKTOROVICH

  76598712-B

  MEMBER: FEDERAL SECURITY SERVICE

  ASSIGNMENT: RUSSIAN/CANADIAN TASK FORCE

  C/N - OPERATION ARCTIC SNOW

  BORN: 01-DEC. - 87

  NEW MOSCOW, RUSSIA

  HEIGHT: 5’9"

  WEIGHT: 150 LBS.

  EYES: BROWN

  HAIR: BROWN

  RISK LEVEL: 4

  STATUS: TO BE TERMINATED

  JS

  115

  DAVID A. LLOYD

  LIST: NIKITA TRISKA

  *****

  TRISKA, NIKITA VALTINA KARISHMA

  26451094-A

  MEMBER: FEDERAL SECURITY SERVICE - BUREAU # 4

  ASSIGNMENT: RUSSIAN/CANADIAN TASK FORCE

  C/N - OPERATION ARCTIC SNOW

  BORN: 11 - MAY - 85

  NEW MOSCOW, RUSSIA

  HEIGHT: 5’8"

  WEIGHT: 130 LBS.

  EYES: LIGHT BLUE

  HAIR: RED

  BUST: 34

  WAIST: 24

  HIPS: 36

  RISK LEVEL: 9

  STATUS: TERMINATED

  JS

  Again Catherine sat back. She studied Nikita’s file. So they killed her. I didn’t believe she defected. From what Vlad told me about her she was fiercely proud of who she was.

  Catherine scrolled back between the two list of statistics. Where the hell did they get this information? My God, her measurements? What the hell did they need that for? Some sick fantasy Smyles and DeTully got off on. Crap. LIST: CATHERINE WILDMAN

  *****

  WILDMAN, CATHERINE SOPHIA

  0999
84-A

  MEMBER: ROYAL CANADIAN MOUNTED POLICE

  SPECIAL OPERATIONS DETACHMENT

  ASSIGNMENT: CANADIAN/RUSSIAN TASK FORCE

  C/N OPERATION ARCTIC SNOW

  BORN: 09 - NOV. - 89

  BERLIN, GERMANY

  HEIGHT: 5’5"

  WEIGHT: 128 LBS.

  EYES: GREEN

  HAIR: BROWN

  BUST: 38

  WAIST: 24

  HIPS: 35

  RISK LEVEL: 10

  STATUS: STILL USEFUL

  JS

  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw her status. Son of a bitch. 116

  GREEN-EYED BURN

  LIST: GENE HATTON

  *****

  NO DATA

  LIST: JEFFERSON STEIN

  *****

  NO DATA

  LIST: RAYMOND SMYLES

  *****

  NO DATA

  LIST: SAM DETULLY

  *****

  NO DATA

  Merde! What’s on this disk Vlad wanted me to find. I knew that he and Triska were compromised, and I figured so was I. What I need to know is where all the Ink is stored and who is behind it.

  ENTER INK

  *****

  NO DATA

  ENTER CRACK

  *****

  NO DATA

  ENTER COKE

  *****

  NO DATA

  ENTER COCAINE

  *****

  NO DATA

  ENTER ROCK

  *****

  NO DATA

  ENTER CRYSTAL

  *****

  NO DATA

  ENTER BLOW

  *****

  NO DATA

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  DAVID A. LLOYD

  ENTER LEAF

  *****

  NO DATA

  Merde! Maybe.

  ENTER SHIT

  *****

  NO DATA

  Merde! Merde!

  ENTER ERYTHROKYLON COCA

  *****

  NO DATA

  Catherine pushed herself away from the keyboard. She rose to her feet and started to pace. Vlad knew there was information on that disk. If he knew it was coded he would have given me the code. Did he? Think, chick! What did he say? Right before he died he said...

  Catherine pulled her chair around and dropped back in. She wheeled herself before the keyboard.

  ENTER NIKITA

  *****

  WORD INCOMPLETE

  ENTER NIKITA TRISKA

  *****

  TRISKA, NIKITA V

  STOP

  Merde! That’s not it. Wait a— How could I be so stupid. It was right there!

  ENTER BEAUTIFUL DEATH

  *****

  CODE APPROVED

  GOOD MORNING MR. STEIN. LIST Y/N?

  Y

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  GREEN-EYED BURN

  The list illuminated before Catherine’s eyes in glowing yellow letters. The names and locations of everybody involved with The Group of Ten. From the low man on the totem pole to associates of Khun Sa’s successor within The Golden Triangle. The addresses of Ink houses and drop sights in Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom and Russia were listed. The location of each member of the group was listed. Smyles, DeTully and Miezlaiskis were all listed in Toronto.

  Buried deep within all the information, Catherine scrolled through was one name she never expected to see. One name that answered every question she had with frightening clarity.

  “Oh my God,” Catherine whispered. Her finger shook as she punched in a number on the video-phone. It was answered on the first ring. “Il faut absolument que je vous vois,” Catherine whispered into the mouthpiece then severed the connection.

  For almost a hour Catherine remained at her desk, sitting in the dark. Her mind was a whirlwind of abstruseness and pain. One thought leading to another and all of them ending where she did not want to go. Catherine realized the futility of it all and returned the disk to the tin and left her office. Back in the apartment, Catherine sat on the floor and watched John sleep. The slow steady rise and fall of his chest helped clear her mind, yet she felt the need for some human comfort, be it man or woman, but realized the danger it held.

  Alone with her thoughts and fears, Catherine slid into the cold bed and eventually drifted into a very troubled sleep.

  119

  15

  The Snow Chateau Building

  Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  03:59 hours 14 August, 2020

  Her subconscious first alerted her of the movement, then pushed the sleepy shadows from her brain. Catherine opened her eyes with a start, but the room was still. She rolled over and glanced at the bedside clock. She had been asleep for almost twenty hours. Oh lord, I can’t believe I’ve slept this long. Where’s—?

  In the pale gray glow from the city, Catherine spotted John. He sat silently on the couch before the window. She pushed the sheets off, pulled a terry cloth robe over her shoulders and joined him. “How’d you sleep?” she asked pulling the sash tight.

  “Fine,” John said, “been up for a couple hours.”

  Catherine nodded and followed his eyes out the window. The sky was dark and angry. A hard rain silently pelted the glass.

  “What’s happening?” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know why I’m here,” John said. Catherine felt a hardness creep into his voice as he continued, “I want to know how long I’m going to be here. I want to know what will happen next.”

  Catherine wondered about that herself. Why weren’t they separated? Filing that aside for the moment, Catherine leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch and crossed her exquisite legs. “We’ll both be debriefed later this 120

  GREEN-EYED BURN

  morning. Other than that, I’m not sure. We’ll find out.”

  After a moment John glanced at the lovely woman who sat next to him.

  “Do you ever feel like a pawn on a chess board?” he asked. “There is something about this that stinks. This is not the end. It is not even—”

  “—even the beginning of the end,” Catherine interjected, “But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. Ten, November, 1942, Winston Churchill.”

  John looked at her. He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. She simply greeted him with a knowing smile before leaning forward and placing her hand on his knee. “Your part in this is over Johnny.”

  “Is it?” John asked, looking back toward the coming storm.

  “What do you mean?”

  John stood and pressed his hand to the cool glass. He felt all the heat drain away from his finger tips, “I’m not sure. I….”

  Catherine rose to his side and placed a soothing hand on his back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No,” John said sharply and pulled back from her touch. Then after a moment he turned and faced Catherine. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself. In one way I’m glad my part’s over. Yet, in another way I’m sad.” John found he had trouble maintaining eye contact. “I don’t want the way I feel about you to end.”

  A soft smile slid across Catherine’s face. She rose on her toes and tenderly kissed him on the lips.

  “Catherine?”

  “That’s for being honest,” she said softly. “I saw something in you Johnny. Something I realized I’ve never seen before in anyone.”

  “What was that?”

  Catherine smiled. “Did you fall in love with me Johnny Riel?”

  John tried to answer, but his heart skipped a beat and his mouth suddenly went very dry. The words were there, yet he could not get them out. Her mouth widened into a comfortable smile as his eyes told her all she needed to know.

  Any further consummation was halted by a hardy rap on the door. Burton stuck his head in. “Decent?” he asked. “St. James just arrived and she wants to see you both pronto.”

  *****

  Catherine, dressed in black leggings, with a white blouse a
nd a black 121

  DAVID A. LLOYD

  short cut blazer that Burton had retrieved from her apartment, and John, in an oversized orange and yellow sweat suit, with “Butt Warmer” stenciled across the front, liberated from someone’s locker, entered St. James’ office. The room was not what John expected. The Deputy Director’s office was a small windowless room with a desk and two chairs placed before it. Behind the desk sat a stocky woman in her late forties. St. James looked up as Catherine, John and Burton entered, then returned wordlessly to the file in her hands.

  Catherine sat down and crossed her legs. John followed suit while Burton remained on his feet by the door.

  After an uncomfortable silence St. James finally looked up and spoke. Her voice was cold and had the air of someone who was accustomed to having her orders followed without question.

  “First; I am required to inform you that everything said in this room will be recorded. Now, for Mr. Riel’s benefit, my name is Sylvia St. James and I’m the Deputy Director of the Special Operations Unit of the Royal Canadian Mounded Police, and Officer Wildman’s superior.” She laced her fingers together across her desk, then continued, “Conducting this debriefing will be myself, Lt. Burton, and Paul Forrester from the Canadian Security and Intelligence Service. Any questions? No. Good.” St. James turned her attention to Catherine, “I understand you know Mr. Forrester.”

  “Oui.”

  St. James looked at John, “You will wait in the outer office, Mr. Riel. This initial debriefing should not be more than an hour or so. Then we’ll call you in.”

  John glanced at Catherine. She avoided his gaze. “Sure,” he said and rose to his feet, “I have several questions.”

 

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