Elizabeth at War Ch. 10 - Dénouement
Breakfast was waiting at the ranch house. Maria looked in on Jessica, still sleeping off the heavy sedative that Linda had administered on take-off. Clifford, likewise, was still sleeping from a non-Scottish additive to his whiskey.
General Charteris had a second helping of bacon, then asked Ramon: "So how did it go, young man?"
He looked at his plate. "
Mon General
, I would hesitate to tell much until the rest are here, I believe they will be arriving tomorrow or the day after. But I can assure you the look on the young man's face, when he expected to be welcomes by cartel members in Bogota, and instead found himself at an airforce base surrounded by Marines with rifles, was priceless. He had an instant conversion to patriotism."
***
Mrs Smythe nodded towards the three men who were talking to Barry. Berman, as he was known here, smiled. Despite the upset last night things were looking good. By now Brown's cleanup team should be at the house. Everyone there would have been killed and would soon be under the ice in a trawler hold, on their way to the depths of the ocean.
"Coffee please, Mrs Smythe."
She nodded. "Mr Berman..."
He frowned. Something about her facial expression snagged at his mind. He dismissed it as she said: "There's a girl who wanted to see you. She is waiting in your office."
He opened the door. A strawberry blonde, sitting before his desk. She was apprehensive, her body language defensive. Her face was somehow familiar.
His first reaction was one of fury. White in the face he thundered at her: "Who are you and what are you doing here? I will..."
He moved to subdue her, to dominate her. Instead of cringing she smiled. "Is that how you did it with Sondra, André? How you subdued Renate, Jessica, all the others? It won't work anymore, you know."
He made to turn, but two men were behind him, hands under their jackets. Another one, a geeky type, peered from behind them. She continued:
"No funny business, please. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elizabeth Durr. We met once at an event arranged by the dear departed Sondra. You see, you killed me. Except that you failed. In a sense I am an avenging angel. So please sit where we can keep an eye on your hands, or you might lose them. Charles here is known to be exceptionally fast with a knife and we would not want to ruin your priceless Afghan carpet. Stan served there, you know, but he is not the killing type, he is much more devious.
"I have some bad news for you, Monsieur André. Poor Sergei's shipment was intercepted and his cleanup crew did not arrive at your mansion this morning. Your associates are singing like the proverbial canaries as we speak."
André felt the blood gushing to his face. He deflated as if he had been kicked in the gut. She kept the pressure on him.
"We have a DNA sample from Renate's corpse to tie you in to her murder, and now the same from Jessica, just to be sure. We have evidence that ties you in to several drug-related deaths. But more importantly, we can now tie you in to espionage in a number of companies. And we have enough circumstantial evidence to tie you in to the death of Sondra, for a start."
He frowned. "But you will have great difficulty proving that in court."
She grinned. "Exactly. It would embarrass your principals for years to come. Just think how well they'd like that."
His eyes darted from side to side, looking for a way out. He thought again of threatening her, but the smile in her eyes told him it would not work. She continued:
"Or you could work with us. That way you could avoid dreary years in re-education camps in insalubrious climes. Of course you will be working under close supervision in a government establishment. You will do what we tell you to do, you will report what we give you to report. And, yes, we know you were in charge of the recruitment side of things, but don't worry, we are on to the rest of the network. So what do you decide?"
He gave a dry swallow or two. She kept him off balance. "Come, you had Sondra kill my colleagues and friends, how much sympathy do you want me to have for you? If I let my emotions run away I would take your paper knife here and dissect you, monsieur André. Or maybe I should let Jessica and the others loose on you? Imagine what they would do if you were tied up, or running on a treadmill, and they had the whip? Do you think that sounds good? We might even get one of your associated to do other things to you like you did to the girls. Let me think. Perhaps that would be more fitting. Think about the possibilities."
André shook his head. "I need time..."