Green Eyed Burn

by David A. Lloyd

  Catherine stood back up and faced Raymond Smyles. Despite herself, despite the gravity of the situation, she found herself smiling. It was time to 257

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  excise all her demons. Like the orgasm she experienced earlier, Catherine felt her heart racing. It slammed against her rib cage like a wild beast threatening to break free. She took three defiant steps toward Smyles and whispered, “Let’s do it, fucker.”

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  Smyles howled and hurled himself at Catherine, striking her at top speed. Catherine used his momentum against him. She grabbed the lapels on his jacket, dropped and rolled onto her back. With her leather clad feet pressed into his chest, Catherine flipped Smyles up and over, hurling him head first into the damp grass.

  Smyles was momentarily stunned, then furious as he heard the whoops of laughter from the circle of cops. He roared and shot to his feet. Catherine was already poised. She had taken up a Crane style kung-fu stance. A dark smile flashed across her face.

  Smyles arched a mocking eyebrow and laughed, “What the fuck is that supposed to be?”

  Catherine struck and the ugly man slammed into the ground with a thud. He spat out three of his teeth, including the one with the diamond, “You Bitch!” he snarled and savagely leapt toward her knees. Catherine vaulted over backward, but as she retained her balance the wound in her side screamed out and, for a moment, she lost her concentration. Smyles managed to catch her in his grasp and he yanked Catherine to the ground. He slithered on top of her with one sweaty calloused hand seizing her by the throat as the other groped for her breasts.

  “Slut!” Smyles hissed and pressed his lips to hers. If this is the end then I’m going out the way I want! He shoved his tongue down her throat. Catherine brought her hands up and hacked him in the kidneys. Smyles grunted but remained on top of her. Saliva tricked from the corner of his lips. A trooper took a step toward them, but Burton dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet Kid-o. He’s only getting her mad.”

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  Catherine slid her hand into his trousers and mercilessly wrenched his testicles.

  Smyles’ eyes bulged as his head snapped up. His grip on her throat slipped. With the pressure on her windpipe gone Catherine slammed her forehead up into Smyles’ already shattered nose. It’s a wonder it doesn’t slide around his face on its own, she found herself wondering as she kicked him away. Smyles sprawled across the grass.

  Catherine rolled to her feet and watched Smyles struggle to his. She waited until he was standing erect then threw a roundhouse kick to his midsection. Smyles flew back three meters and slammed into the grill of police cruiser. He doubled over and vomited.

  Catherine stepped back and lowered her fists.

  It was over.

  I’ve proven myself to my worst critic. Me. Catherine turned and walked away.

  “Bitch,” Smyles hissed wiping bile from his chin. He slowly rose to his feet and glared at her.

  Catherine turned, “Isn’t that enough for you Smyles?”

  “No,” he mumbled and staggered toward her. “Fuck you.”

  Catherine matched him step by step, keeping a meter between them. “It’s over Smyles, or haven’t you realized that yet?”

  “It’s not over until I say it’s over,” Smyles spat.

  He swung a fist out. Catherine blocked it without striking back. Smyles swung a second time, and again she countered without retaliating.

  “Fight me,” he hissed.

  “You’re pathetic.”

  “I’ve seen her naked,” Smyles called out to the circle of uniforms. “She was mine once.”

  “I was never yours,” Catherine retorted and blocked another limp attack.

  “You were mine and you enjoyed it,” Smyles said so softly only Catherine could hear. “You remember. It was good. It could be again,” he cooed confidently.

  She did remember. She remembered the tearing… penetrating… pain. Suddenly what seemed so long ago now haunted her like yesterday. That night in the back of the limousine. The pain he caused with the barrel of his gun.

  She remembered his fingers pulling... probing...

  She remembered her dress... bloody... heaped on the floor... 260

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  She remembered him on top her here... sweating... grunting... flaying... pumping...

  She remembered being powerless… being submissive... helpless.. She remembered as he crouched over her and sprayed his semen across her breasts, her throat, her face… Non... stop... non... please stop. I beg you... please stop... please... please... stop...

  “Non! You-son-of-a-bitch!” Catherine screamed. Her eyes flamed, her pulse raced and her hatred flared. “Never again!”

  Catherine’s fist flailed out but Smyles was suddenly nowhere and everywhere. He struck her in the temple with the back of his fist, the kidney with his knee, and her throat with the side of his hand. Catherine stumbled.

  Smyles struck her again, hammering his fist into her blood-stained side. Once, twice, three times. Catherine cried out and doubled over. Smyles grabbed her hair, pressed her face into his crotch, then threw her to the ground.

  “You are going to die here and now Bitch!” Smyles vowed straddling her,

  “Beg me to make it quick!” His fingers encircled her throat and squeezed.

  “Non...” Catherine gasped. She fumbled for the Bowie knife strapped to her calf, but her leg was twist beneath her, “Non.”

  “Shit!” Burton cried. He drew his weapon and hastened toward Catherine. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes as her mind permanently etched in her memory the face of the man who killed her.

  His gray eyes wide with ecstasy.

  His pungent breath hot on her face.

  Non... not like this... not now...

  Her lungs shrieked for air.

  Non... non... Johnny... help me... please... Her vision blurred and her eyes rolled back into her head. Johnny…….

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  . .. ... ... ... air...

  The pressure was gone and sweet air flooded back into her starved lungs. Pin points of light shot through her mind as she slowly opened her eyes. There, through a teary haze, she saw two shapes standing over her, locked together in a battle of wills. She knew the elapsed time could have been no more that a split second, but the events she witnessed seemingly unfolded in slow motion as the two figures clashed. Then one managed to break and strike. The second snapped backward at the hips and disappeared from sight. The remaining figure then seemed to slump, as if it were only the raw power of determination fueled the crusade.

  Then slowly he turned toward her and reached out with an open fist. Hesitant at first she accepted the offer and was tenderly helped to her feet. She stepped back and rubbed her eyes, then looked at the man who saved her.

  Tears of joy flowed freely as Catherine Wildman threw her arms around Johnny Riel and held him tightly for a long, long time. 262

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  Shoulder to shoulder with their hands clasped together, and ignoring the pain they were both in, John and Catherine walked together. They were escorted by four of Burton’s top people across the yard to a waiting ambulance. As they walked, Catherine eased herself closer, minding his freshly taped-up arm.

  “You realize St. James won’t think very highly of your involvement in this operation.”

  “Ask me if I care what St. James thinks,” John replied. “She left me hanging and exposed, and I did something about it.”

  “I want you to know, Johnny, that I’ll back you one hundred percent on this masquerade you and-!” They both realized it at the same time.

  “Nikita!” John said.

  Suddenly voices were raised and weapons pointed toward the front doors. Standing in the threshold was a person holding a gun.

  “Drop the weapon!” Burton’s voice echoed over a loud speaker, “Or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

  “No!” John
cried out. He pushed through his startled escort and sprinted across the yard.

  “Hold your fire!” Catherine ordered a half step behind him, “She’s with us!”

  John raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Even several meters away he could see the anguish reflected in her eyes. Then, as John reached her, all her strength drained and Nikita collapsed into his open arms. John gently lowered her to the ground.

  “Medic!” Catherine cried out as she knelt next to John. “Is she…”

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  Catherine asked. Her tone reflected her sincerity.

  “She’s alive,” John said. “It’s exhaustion, I think.”

  Two medics arrived just then and gave Nikita a quick scan. They agreed she could be moved and strapped her to a stretcher. John and Catherine walked in silence as Nikita was carried down the stairs. Then just as they were about to load her into the waiting ambulance her fingers brushed across John’s arm.

  “Wait!” he called out. The medics looked at Catherine and she nodded. John leaned closer to Nikita and softly touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Nikita. I’m here.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Did we… do it?” she whispered through a dry mouth.

  John gently placed his hand on her forehead and felt the heat emanating from her scalp. “Yes, yes we did. We stopped it,” he knelt closer, “Thanks to you.”

  “Crudup…” she swallowed hard “...is dead,” John nodded and she continued, “Where... Smyles?”

  “Arrested.”

  “He should die.”

  John did not reply, nor did she expect him to. Nikita’s sky blue eyes drifted past him and found Catherine. “Are you…?” Her voice cracked.

  “Catherine Wildman,” Catherine said stepping forward.

  Nikita smiled weakly. “So young… and beautiful.” She held out her hand and Catherine accepted it. “It is a honor to finally meet you.”

  “The honor is all mine, Nikita Valtina.” Catherine smiled warmly and enforced the respect with the use of the formal Russian form of address, using both the first and middle names. “Johnny had told me about your quest. Despite all odds he got the information to me. Vladimir died protecting what he believed in. He died a hero.”

  A great weight seemed to lift from Nikita’s shoulders. “Spasibo, Catherine Sophia, spasibo.” Nikita gritted her teeth and swallowed hard. “In Crudup’s office is a hidden door. It leads to a store room. There you will find the drugs and other evidence.” Her body shook as she coughed. “I have something for you John.” Nikita opened her fist and handed him a miniDV video tape. “I found it in Crudup’s desk on my way out. I believe it is what you and Catherine have been looking for.”

  John accepted the tape and turned it over in his hand. A name was printed on the side. John looked at Catherine.

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  She nodded. “We’ll do what must be done,” Catherine promised her.

  “I know you will.” Nikita’s eyes met John’s. A memory of what could have been flashed behind her sky blue eyes and she smiled. “No regrets.”

  John silently agreed.

  Nikita touched Catherine’s hand and whispered. “Il est un bon homme et il aime beaucoup. Prends soins de lui.”

  Catherine smiled, pleasantly surprised, and replied. “Je sais et je vais.”

  John got the strange feeling they were talking about him. He gently kissed Nikita on the cheek. “Goodbye Nikita.”

  “Goodbye John, and spasibo,” she replied. Nikita looked at Catherine and saluted. Catherine snapped to attention and sharply returned the salute. Then, deep in their own thoughts, John and Catherine watched as Nikita was lifted into the back of the ambulance and taken away. 265

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  Burton confirmed procedure was followed as Raymond Smyles was arrested and placed in the rear of an armored police cruiser before joining John and Catherine, who were finally getting their wounds properly treated, in the back of an ambulance.

  “St. James and the doctor are here,” he said. “The dragon lady wants to see the both of you in her car.”

  “Fine,” Catherine said, “are you ready Kurt?”

  Burton nodded, then looked at John. “When I saw that Cathy was in trouble I hoofed it over to help, but you were already there,” he said. “When you yanked that puke ball off Cathy and laid him out with a thwack to the head I almost shit.” Burton grinned. “It was fucking great. The medic checking your wound said he only turned away for a moment and when he looked back you were on your feet and running. He thought you were still unconscious.” His grin widened. “I don’t know how you did it man, but after all that you have been through I would be proud to have you on my team.”

  John studied the man for a long moment, then said sincerely, “Thanks Kurt.”

  Burton playfully punched him on the shoulder, then smiled at Catherine and left.

  “He’s a good man,” she commented as they climbed from the back of the ambulance.

  “John!” Madhuri cried out. She ducked around a Mountie trying to stop her and rushed into John’s arms and gave him a big bear hug. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  John glanced at Catherine, “She’s with me.”

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  “I wouldn’t have guessed,” Catherine smiled and waved the approaching cop off.

  Madhuri released John and looked at the woman in black leather standing at his side. She was the one, Madhuri realized, she saw on the monitors. The person who had charged through a hail of bullets and back. Yet somehow, though all the dirt and sweat and blood and bruising, she looked gorgeous.

  “Hi,” Madhuri said.

  “Hi,” was her reply.

  “Catherine,” John introduced, “I would like you to meet my partner in crime and the best friend anyone could ever have— Madhuri Sahni.”

  “Hello Madhuri,” Catherine said and held out her hand.

  Puzzlement registered across Madhuri’s face as she accepted Catherine’s hand. “Hello yourself,” she said. “John has told me much about you. Including, and I hasten to say it, that you were dead.”

  Catherine smirked. “I got better.”

  A wide smile slid across Madhuri’s face and she looked at John. “She’s a smart ass. I like her already.”

  Catherine laughed despite herself.

  “You have something in common.” John grinned then said to Catherine,

  “Madhuri takes some getting used to.”

  “I bet.”

  “Transmitter worked fine?” John asked Madhuri.

  “Like a charm.”

  “I’ll be back shortly,” he said to Catherine. “I have a broadcast to do.”

  “No way. I’m not missing this for the world,” she said and followed them back to the van.

  Madhuri slipped into her control chair and slid a large metal box toward John. He flipped up the clasps and opened it. Inside was a slick black and gray over-the-shoulder video camcorder with a pistol grip. Catherine whistled, “Cool. What is it?”

  “The future of video journalism Catherine. The Shadowcam,” John reached into the box and picked up a small headset. He hooked it over his ear and positioned the microphone by his lips. “This unit is able to independently broadcast a live, or prerecorded signal to a mobile control center like Baby II here. Then the signal is transmitted to one of the several network satellites. We’ll be hitting the one in geosynchronous orbit over Toronto.”

  “Then instantly we’re live and direct to over a million homes via the CWN’s cable, satellite, and Internet feeds,” Madhuri added. 267

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  “You’re loving this.” Catherine grinned at John and sat on the back bumper.

  “Bet that adorable backside of yours. It feels good getting back into the swing.” John fastened the shoulder strap and positioned the camera on his shoulder. “Fire me up.”

  Madhuri turned around in her chair and flipp
ed a row of switches. The interior of the van lit up like a Christmas tree. “I have a signal from the Sudbury affiliate,” she said. “A broadcast window in ninety seconds. Network Anchor’s setting us up. Stryker came through. I think I owe him a night of frenzied sex. Camera test please.”

  “What does that mean?” Catherine asked.

  “The frenzied sex?” John grinned.

  Catherine threw him a look.

  “It means we’ll be broadcasting live in a minute and a half,” John said and tossed Madhuri the miniDV tape Nikita gave him.

  Catherine was about to say something about the tape but decided to let events fall where they may.

  Madhuri loaded the tape and glanced at the chronometer. She then caught John’s eye and began a mental countdown while securing the network uplink. Catherine stood up and watched as a car approached them. The LED readout in the view-finder counted John down. A red light then flashed as Madhuri cued him over his headset.

  The Shadowcam lit up and John panned the lens across the chaotic scene around them as his image superimposed in the bottom left hand corner of the screen. John began his report as St. James and Dr. Yen-ping climbed out of the car and approached.

  “I’m Johnny Riel for the Canada-World News Network, and I’m reporting live from the center of a major police action on the headquarters of a suspected international drug load operating out of an estate south of Sudbury, Ontario.

  “On your screen before you is Sylvia St. James, the Deputy Director of the Special Operations Branch of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the branch of the RCMP that planned and lead this raid under the code name

  ‘Operation Arctic Snow,’ and Doctor Bonita Yen-ping, Special Operations staff physician. As I speak, Director St. James is about to be greeted by Special Operations Officer Catherine Wildman, who has been working under deepcover here and is a key player in the success of Operation Arctic Snow. Officer Wildman is now entering the screen on the right.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” St. James barked.

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  hook. Live on millions of televisions screens and computer monitors across North America and the world, the Deputy Director of the RCMP Special Operations Branch fell to her ass in the dew-coated grass with wide-eyed shock.