Elizabeth At War Ch 06 Remorse

It was past noon when Grazia looked in on her son. He should have been sleeping, but he was still rolling about. She asked in soft, liquid Spanish: "What is wrong, my angel? Is the work too hard?"

He shook his head, his cheeks tear-stained. "No, Mother, but we did an evil thing last night, and I cannot sleep. I must first confess, and I think they will come to kill me."

She knew her son, and she knew also that their priest could be trusted. Together they listened to the halting, disjointed story, looked at each other.

Detective Nunes knew the immigrant community, knew how it worked, what questions were better not asked, what stories not believed. He also knew when to get action, how to obtain search permits, how to impose on the steelworks the need to keep certain blocks of crushed scrap steel out of the shipping container.

The prosecutor looked at the dossier. "So, what we have here is a story, an allegation, of an undocumented immigrant that he had a blowjob by a girl that was then gang raped, killed, stuffed in her car and crushed. We have corroboration: a scrap steel bale containing parts of a silver Mercedes Coupé, human remains that correspond with the allegations. The mortuary found DNA of six men, including that of your informant in her mouth. There were five men working there. Can you arrest them tonight? If they sing it should be an open and shut case."

Nunes drew up his shoulders. "Tonight is good. I already arranged for the informant to be 'picked up' by immigration authorities and resettled elsewhere, I even got him a job as a mechanic. It would be better if they incriminate each other, he might not stand up as a good witness. The sort of people I suspect they are, they will sell each other out. But we better also put this into the computers. This feels like just the tip of something. I know these people. They will sing like canaries. You keep them separate, let them worry. Then you tell each of them the others had sung, and you just want confirmation, but if they have new facts they may get time off. Brian will be the ringleader. Even so I doubt we will get much out of them. They are just a flea, the real power behind is the tiger."

Sniping is an exact science. Wind speed and direction, humidity, air pressure all have an influence. Science does not take coincidences into account.

The sniper centered the crosshairs on the lower chest of the meditating woman, carefully selecting the optimum target available through the half-open window. An aperture of about a hundred millimetres by a hundred was ample given his stable firing position and the lack of movement of his target. He would have preferred taking the shot out in the garden, but there had been too much movement. Luck had her settle where he could get this shot. He jacked a round into the chamber, stilled his breathing, squeezed the trigger.

An irrigation sprayer in the garden sent a drop of water that intersected with the speeding bullet, destabilising it. The rotation imparted by the rifling caused the bullet to deflect fractionally, whirling on its long axis. The trajectory was impacted enough for the bullet to touch the window frame, sending splinters of wood through the room as the velocity was scrubbed off. The bullet, still tumbling, ripped through Elizabeth's loose top, caused a slight burn mark on her skin, and embedded itself into the floor.

Jenny's instincts took in the scene in an instant. She yelled at the top of her voice: "Incoming! Down and stay there! Get behind the walls!"

Sammy screamed and ran to her mother, but Jenny slapped her down, then covered her with her body. She scanned the room, noted Elizabeth's terrified eyes.

"Calm now. I think we are safe. Crawl here, send the little ones here. Now, all together, into the corridor, that is safest. Elizabeth, any weapons?"

Elizabeth hugged her children to her and nodded. "Terry has a duck gun, a shotgun. In the bedroom closet. The key should be in the safe door. I don't know if he has any ammunition."

Stan Best had to take a detour and arrived from a different direction than usual. His car's aircon was not working so he had the window open. The dry snap of the sniper rifle triggered all the battlefield reflexes. He was out and crouched before he had consciously analysed the situation. The Glock in his hand was searching for a target. A new house, unoccupied, that might overlook Elizabeth and Terry's garden. A car parked in the driveway. A front door slightly ajar. A neatly dressed man, deliberate but unhurried, coming out the door with a long case in his left hand. Gloves. A professional sweep of the area, noting the presence of an armed man in the street. Right hand going to his back to draw a concealed handgun.

Stan's reactions were automatic, his brain had processed all the data. The first shot went low and to the left, the second went into a thigh, the third went where the white sticker on a military target is: right at the intersection of the heart and the diaphragm.

Stan went left in a rolling dive, scanned the area, took another look, waited for reaction, movement. Nothing.

Cautiously he circled, took in the amount of blood, the total relaxation of the body. Trembling from reaction he opened his phone.

"Control, Best. Hostile sniper down. I need backup, Police, Commander in that order. Check my position. Backup also to Durr residence, expedite. Scouting. Out."

At the sound of the first siren he stood up, hands high, the Glock and his ID on his car. Police and his backup team arrived simultaneously, and a part of him found the confrontation between the two teams amusing.

General Charteris dominated the scene. He had seen the police off with handshakes and promises. Outside a five man team patrolled. He looked at Elizabeth and Terry,

"I am not used to apologising, and I hate to be shown up for having made a faulty assessment, but here it is. You were right, I was wrong. Sending an expert sniper to take you out proves that. Yes, the backup team got a look at his case and effects before the police closed up everything. The first scan shows he is ex military, and he had several photos of you. He rented the car three days ago, so his orders are probably recent. We will get you into a protection program, but right now we are evacuating you all to a nearby base."

Jenny asked: "What then, daddy?'

He shook his head. "Then I have a lot of running, a lot of explanation to do. There is a deep cover program I want to get them into. It will take some string pulling, but I can swing it."

"Stan and I will take the case, daddy. No, I insist, this is personal now. If I have to fight you on this one, I will, dad. How soon is your evacuation team going to be here?"

***

André swung the quirt, stinging the sweaty, trembling backside. Jessica gasped for breath, struggled to keep up with the treadmill. The sting of the quirt had her pick up her pace again. Sweat streamed down her naked body. André looked at the three men and nodded.

"You have the routine, right? She does ten minutes of running, and you see she keeps it up. Then ten minutes of stretching. Donald, you know what to do. Then she rests for ten. Then she runs, stretches, rests. Every hour an orgasm. Keep her masked, do not break the routine. I will be around later. You may all break for lunch, pre-packed lunches will be delivered. Mearsden, you will see that the other girls get theirs? And they are never to see each other. Is that clear?"

They nodded. He went to his private suite, showered and left. He noted again that all doors were locked, all security systems were operating. Damn Renate. This additional girl was straining his systems, and that is how mistakes are made. Without her the finishing of the others would have been well advanced.

He pulled into his private parking garage, looking around for any observers. Nothing visible. The security algorithm would have alerted him. Walking into the small shopping complex he took on his other persona. The Estate Agency was on the first floor, his secretary was waiting for him.

"Mr Berman, your coffee and snacks is waiting on your desk. I have three calls for you. Both the agents are out. Patty is showing the office suite to a foreign investor, Barry has been following up on the industrial property we had listed last week."

He nodded. "Good work, Mrs Smythe. Give me the details of the calls, I will tell you when they can be called back."

One of the calls was from prospective client, the second from an established industrial company looking for warehouses. The third was a coded message.

He returned the two calls, then called the cleaning company to make sure they had cleared up Renate's room at the factory, and had sanitized the rest of the property. They were used to working with him and could be trusted not to leave any evidence behind, or pilfer incriminating property. All that remained of Renate's life would be in a furnace by now.

His computer had several messages, and he worked through them methodically. The encrypted server carried a coded message from Cecilia's new handler, indicating that all was working and in place. One less worry.

He worked through a list of tasks he had waiting, noted a few points, then sat and thought for a while.

Mrs Smythe told him that Barry had come in. He asked her to send him in with two cups of coffee. For half an hour they reviewed the properties on their list, with the now vacant factory added. André, or John Berman as he was known here, had a few suggestions to make as to prospective customers, which Barry noted down assiduously.

Mrs Smythe looked up from her work as he passed. "Going for some lunch, Mrs Smythe. I should be back in an hour. I have a meeting later in the afternoon, around four."

Exclusive, comfortable, and known as a meeting place for the successful businessmen, the club welcomed him. He was shown to a table where his contact was waiting. Few words were exchanged. The man only known as Brown was brief."

"They called in a hit on the woman who fingered Sondra."

"Is it not a risk? They may have closed that operation down, any action might prove the opposite."

Brown shook his head and slid a file over. "The principals like things tidy. She is seen as a threat to the entire Mountain Blossom network. There, take this file. People looking for property. Our agents are doing well, their companies are expanding. What is in the pipeline?"

André filled him in on the three women, and Brown nodded. "The corporate whore will come in handy, convention season is coming up. There is someone I want to compromise, will she do it?"

André frowned. "Too early to tell. I will see if she could be motivated to become your seductress. I am in need of an administrative type. Can the organization provide that? I need someone to buy food, oversee housekeeping with some housekeeping duties thrown in, but someone that will be secure."

Brown nodded. "Will do. All else going well?"

André nodded. "I have to ditch the André personality for a while. One of my recruiters started becoming indiscreet."

"Tidied away?"

André nodded. Brown smiled. "Better be safe than sorry. Have a good week."

Sammy ran down the pathway screaming excitedly, followed by Sweetie and Danny. Terry dropped his bag and scooped her up, then crouched down and hugged the other two as well. Stan followed, grinning. Sammy disengaged herself and hugged him too.

Jenny called to Elizabeth: "They're back!"

Elizabeth replied from the kitchen: "I'll get some food going, they will be hungry. Can you help them settle in?"

The large ranch house bustled for half an hour before the adults settled down in the lounge, beverages in hand. Elizabeth snuggled up to Terry and asked: "When is Sunitra and Bill coming?"

He squeezed her hand. "They are not quite sure they want to make the move, love. There's a lot they need to settle between themselves. Firstly they are only now coming to terms with their decision to shack up together. Bill is the flexible one, you won't believe the amount of problems Sunitra is finding to hold on to her old life. I was on the point of calling you to talk to her."

She smiled. "She can be incredibly hard-headed, but equally vulnerable. Let's give them time. I think I have a way to influence her. Did you manage to get the company sorted out?"

He nodded. "I had a long talk to dad, he was pretty emotional, but he understood. I sold out everything, pensioned off Langston, and the new owners are bringing in their own management team. They took on everyone, with an option that if the workers did not like the new management they could take a severance package. And of course, just before the final round, the Bixham development came through. You remember, that development project I had been working on for years? I had given up on it, and then Mrs Bixham made up her mind to sell and let the development go through."

"Wonderful! That added to the price, I hope?" To Jenny she explained: "Terry had been working on this for two years. It's an old farm that had practically been surrounded by town developments. Mr and Mrs Bixham had inherited it, ran a farm but did not really need the money, so it became an equestrian school, a place where kids would go and make love in the moonlight. It has the most desirable location for miles around, and Terry pointed out to her that it would be a great project, but she could not make up her mind. It will set the firm up for at least five years, developing it, building houses, shopping centers, that sort of thing. The finances were all ready to roll."

Terry smiled. "Yes, all sorted, and the new owners were terrified that I would take it out of their hands and run it as a separate show. So the last bit is tidied up"

She kissed him. "Sad to see the work of two generations gone?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "A little, love, but all my work is now under this roof. You would not know what a load had suddenly slipped from my shoulders. And now I am ready to begin to build with you, to set up the structures that would enable you to track these people down and destroy them. Stan will tell you what we discussed on the way over."

Stan took over. "Yes, we had a long talk, but first the essentials. All the ties are now cut. Bank accounts were sorted out, we don't like the word 'laundered' but there is no way your old accounts could be traced to your new identities. Taxes, everything is sorted out. That was the easy part. Some ties, of course, are hard to cut, and one did come up, Elizabeth. Your mother called, asked that you call back. We have someone answering all the old numbers, so we will get messages. You can call through a patch, through your old number, so we don't expose the new details."

She nodded. "I wonder what she wants, we have not spoken in five years. In fact, when Sammy was born, I tried to talk to her but she refused, saying I had shamed the family by letting the pastor's son screw me. Did I tell you the story?"

Terry laughed. "Let's save it for a special treat, love, they will crack up when they hear it."

Elizabeth rose. "Let me call her. How does that patch thing work again?"

A few moments later she rejoined them. "A bit puzzling, but not too serious. My school friend, Jessica, had disappeared. She stood up for me when I denounced the pastor's son. Apparently she fell from job to job, had a few unsuccessful relationships, all because she had disturbed the community, and had not left like I did. Another friend saw her get into a silver Mercedes, at a truck stop, with a woman in a silver suit. They drove off west. She called her mother once, crying. She seemed very disturbed and the call was cut off. They heard nothing afterwards."

Stan frowned. "Sad story, but many people run away, take on a new life."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I have a feeling something bad happened to her. Do you think we can report this to someone?"

Stan nodded. "Certainly, we can. There is a database, they will put the details on there and if anything is reported it will come up. Now, let's talk about the future setup. Here's what I have in mind."

Fifteen minutes later he asked: "Any questions?"

Terry looked at Elizabeth, saw her nod, and replied: "Stan, I am impressed with the military structure you set out, and we accept that you know much more about identifying intelligence needs, decide on collection methods, and allocate resources than we would ever know. Your knowledge, and Jenny's specialised combat experience, will be essential if we are to find the people behind this network. But I would suggest we consider that the logical, structured, clear-cut method has its limits, and has not produced results. You do not think our opponents have a similar background, and therefore know how to avoid your attempts at unmasking them?"

Stan nodded. "May well be so. What alternative do you suggest?"

"Perhaps a more intuitive approach, a more devious approach may work better? I am sure there are teams of experts running with the standard counter-intelligence approach, so if there is anything to be found they would find it, would have found it. We should be doing what has not been done, searching where they had not been searching?"

Stan shook his head. "I can assure you they left no stone unturned. I am not sure what you are suggesting, Terry."

He smiled, noting Elizabeth's smiling face and Jenny's focused attention. "Look, I am, or was a businessman, and a rather successful one, if I say so myself. I went into my father's business, which was a successful run of the mill construction and property development business. I have to admit to you that I was at a loss, since everything I could do was already being done by people in our company, and by other companies. So Elizabeth and I sat down and talked, meditated, thought, and then formulated a strategy of looking in the corners, looking at what they were not seeing, identifying opportunities others were missing. The Bixham project is an example. Everyone knew she would never sell, and only when she died would the property come on the market. There were many such obscure opportunities. So let us try to do what others are not doing. Intuition is one approach. Elizabeth, what do you think?"

"Terry said it, Stan. Sometimes logic is not the answer. Or perhaps I should say the hidden logic is a better answer. The story with Sondra should perhaps point the way. She was checked out in a dozen different ways, and all the leads were missed. So we need to answer: What did they miss? How did they miss it. Why did they not find it?"

Jenny sat forward, hesitated, then asked: "Stan, I think what they are saying is right. You know that, in military terms, there is the concept of the indirect approach as opposed to the frontal attack, which is what we have been using. Our approach has been a digital one, maybe we should be designing an analog one?"

Stan sucked in air, looked at the ceiling, then at his wife. "Touched a trigger there, my sweet. Hang on, let me think. Someone, somewhere, did develop an analog database. It was supposed to develop this network of relations, contacts, so that in the end you would know who had contacts with a suspect and be able to visualise this. Hmmm, I will have to dredge this up, don't know what they had done since."

Elizabeth smiled and got up. "You guys are tired from travelling. I need to give Terry a hot shower, a good massage and some real loving. Let's talk about this tomorrow."

Jenny smiled. "I like the idea of the massage. Stan, she showed me some tricks you are going to love. Come here, my man!"

***

Elizabeth's eyes were red-rimmed, but her face was triumphant. Stan asked: "So what did you want to show me?"

She shook her head. "Wait till Terry and Jenny get here."

The four of them crowded around her screen. She tapped a list of items, and a network appeared, grew as she tapped them.