The Lawyer And The Killer Ch 07

An Introductory Note: A special thanks and note of appreciation goes out to Miss.elf1 for her tireless editing of the last several chapters of this story. Thank you so much.

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Susan Slattery, prominent lawyer, a successful divorce specialist, had been twice abducted. First she'd been grabbed by Shawn McClellan, a man hired to murder and dispose of her body. Instead he raped, humiliated, and terrorized her. Then he baffled her when he ransomed her life so he could allow her to go free.

Syndicate insiders had never been allowed to change course and live so Susan was abducted a second time. Kidnapping her was the lure that brought the heretical McClellan back, but instead of charging in to rescue her like a crazed Chuck Norris he applied a different strategy. Shawn burrowed into the depths of the syndicate hierarchy, evidenced his frightful unpredictability by waterboarding a syndicate underling, and then offered a second bribe for the woman's life. The bribe was accepted on the condition McClellan promised to disappear never to darken the shady activities of the syndicate again.

During the course of these frenetic events Susan and Shawn found themselves an unlikely match. They fell in love, but their tribulations had only begun. Shawn long having sought escape from his criminal past and always a facile linguist, had become first a participant then a linchpin within several international aid agencies. He opted to leave the country to participate in relief activities in distant Africa. Susan at long last freed from the dangers of abduction and murder returned to her law offices hoping to restore her practice and get on with her life.

Yet the problems of these two lovers had not abated. In fact their difficulties had been exacerbated by the milieu of conflicting events swirling around them.

Susan's rape resulted in an unexpected pregnancy; a pregnancy both she and Shawn agreed they wanted. She couldn't explain why she wanted the baby, the father being her rapist, but she treasured the life growing inside her. No matter what the future held, the child in her womb was a part of her; it belonged to her, and would always be hers.

Shawn's reasons for wanting the baby were less esoteric. He loved Susan, and saw the pregnancy as a bond that might lend what he thought they had more permanence. Second Shawn had been neglected as a child, and despite the statistical research to the contrary he yearned for the chance to give what he'd never received. Then there were his experiences in Africa and Asia; the suffering he'd seen, the loss, but also the love.

Susan had other problems. Her two abductions had never been satisfactorily explained. Was she ever really abducted, or were her disappearances proofs of an erratic perhaps disheveled brain, and what might be the outcomes for a law practice already in disarray? How had the police, the FBI, responded to her well publicized second disappearance? How had her clients reacted to her inexplicable behavior?

Added to the mix syndicate Fagan Oscar Camulos had taken a perverse interest in the woman. Susan met him only one time and found him terrifyingly distasteful. Camulos had come to see her seduction, if not carnal, than professionally, as a personal goal, a singular mark of his supremacy.

Shawn's difficulties had also grown exponentially. The syndicate had neither forgotten nor forgiven his apostasy. He had become a man marked for death. Meanwhile the FBI had a special agent tracking his activities for two years. The agent, Martin Miller, had come to see himself as something akin to Victor Hugo's Javert to Shawn's Jean Valjean. For Miller

Shawn's past as syndicate hireling had distinguished him for special, even obsessive, consideration. Worse, the region of Africa about to receive Shawn had been a focal point for the worst crimes against humanity for decades. Dozens of aid workers had met ignominious ends in a region where justice was been traditionally meted out at the end of an AK 47.

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Shawn sat back in his seat as the plane took off. Down below was the farm, his home for a long time, and the girl. Who would have believed that at thirty-four, a world traveler, army veteran, college grad, and one time killer he would have found the great love of his life as a result of a planned homicide? She was down there. God he prayed things worked out for her.

If he could hold on for a year, one year, and she could hold out as long he'd be back. He'd come back; claim his Susan, his child, and God willing, claim a chance to remake his life. He understood she wasn't his Susan any more than the baby inside her was his either. The baby belonged to her, and she belonged to herself. Still, for the first time ever, he felt like he had something to come home to.

The plane reached New York right on time. He took a taxi into Manhattan, settled in at the hotel where the international organization he'd signed on with had arranged a room, called their offices, and got caught up on what had been going on. His group, 'World Aid' had taken on some big jobs in East Africa. This was going to be another big one. He and several colleagues were destined for the Sudan.

The next morning, after a good night's sleep, he got a call. There was to be a reception and briefing that very afternoon. Circumstances in the western Sudan called for a new team as soon as possible. Shawn cleaned up, put on his only good suit, went downstairs, hailed a cab, and was whisked off to the United Nations building.

The reception was well attended. All the team members were on hand, some diplomats, a few U.N. officials, several reporters, a number of businessmen, and a few hangers on. He knew most of the team members. Kia and Kim were there. Amin from Uganda was going. A Spanish man who had connections with some of the Sudanese warlords was there, and an Ethiopian doctor, Idra Shai Selassie.

They started the meeting with the usual introductions, and then went right to the meat of the matter. Their team was headed to the hottest of all the hot spots in Africa. Christian and Muslim warlords had been butchering each other and as many of the noncombatant population as got in their way for the better part of a decade. Hatreds had become deeply entrenched. Provisions, medical supplies, tents, cloth, and of course weapons were constantly being stolen. U.N. representatives said they could handle the material losses, but the human costs from disease, malnutrition, murder, and slave raiding was unconscionable.

The new team they were sending had the dual role of not just helping the other aid workers, but they were also expected to find ways to buy off or fend off the militant threats in the region. Off the record they were warned the Sudanese government was at least as dangerous as any of the local despots.

The official aspects of the conference ended on the sobering note that most of the current crop of aid workers had been killed. It was a risky assignment. Nobody was being ordered to go. None of the team backed out.

After the briefing there was a short reception. Old friends needed to get reacquainted, and new friends had to be met. It wasn't long before Shawn found himself the center of attention.

When it came to aid work Shawn had a past. His past had caught up with him.

The doctor Idra Shai Selassie approached him first, "Are you the Shawn McClellan who was in Thailand?"

Shawn replied, "Your Doctor Selassie?"

She smiled, held out her hand and answered, "Please just Shai. So tell me are you he?"

Shawn shook her hand. She was taller than he was. He supposed it was her Nilotic ethnicity. She was dark, so dark as to be definably black. Her hair was crisped. She had it in a tight bun. She would have been called pretty if it stopped there, but it didn't stop there. She had the most vividly flashing black eyes, and her long graceful form gave her a lithe look that seemed to combine both strength and fragility. Stunning, no stunningly beautiful was the best way to describe her. He smiled back, "Yes I guess that's me."

On his left arm he found Kia pressing against him. "What is she asking you about Nepal?"

Shai looked at Kia, "Nepal? No, I wanted to hear about what he did in Thailand."

Kia stepped forward, "Oh that. What he did. Not much actually. A boat load of perhaps fifty people was being fired upon by Cambodian guerrillas. The boat capsized. Dozens of people fell in the water. Among them were perhaps a score of children. This man, or should I say this fool, swam out and found a way to gather enough driftwood and flotsam to fashion a small raft. He got close to twenty people, mostly children on it. Then he kept swimming around in crocodile infested water, dodging machine gun fire from the far shore until he managed to rescue another twelve children pulling them ashore as he swam.

It wasn't a perfect afternoon. Some people did die, but this man managed to save nearly thirty people. By the time he was finished people on both sides of the bank were cheering. Even the guerrillas on the far bank had stopped shooting and were cheering!"

Shawn stood there, embarrassed and silent, cheeks red as a McIntosh apple.

By the time Kia had finished perhaps seven other people had joined Kia, Shai and Shawn. Everyone had heard the story, but most had never met the man.

Shai asked, "What happened in Nepal?"

Kia put her hand on Shawn's arm warning him to silence, "I was there for that one too. We were all in Nepal helping flood survivors. Across the border in Chinese controlled Tibet there were gangs of warring men. Some were Tibetan citizens trying to protect their villages. Some were Tibetan rebels. Others were Chinese Communist soldiers, and still others included groups of Chinese deserters. It was a group of the last sort that sneaked into one of the relief camps we'd set up. As a relief station it wasn't much, only two workers, a small quantity of medicines, a dozen or so local people there to help maybe a hundred or so refugees.

In the middle of the night perhaps twenty of these Chinese deserters broke into the camp, killed an aid worker, stole all the medicines, and kidnapped three of the youngest women. The girls were just unlucky, three young and pretty innocents caught up in the middle of a tumultuous situation. However, the medical supplies were critical. Without them dozens, perhaps as many as a hundred people might have died."

Kia paused for emphasis, and then went on. Everyone was listening to the story, "One foolish man decided to go off into the hills alone to retrieve the medicines. That foolish man was this one." She pointed to Shawn, "He disappeared into the foothills of the Himalaya Mountains; a foreigner, no compass, no supplies, and no weapon. He was gone for two weeks; everyone assumed he'd been killed. Then one afternoon from out of nowhere this ragged disheveled man appeared with four oxen loaded with medical supplies and three very tired but very happy young women."

Kia looked over at Shawn, and then went on, "He never explained how he did it, but somehow he got those hapless deserters to give back the medicines and the three girls."

Kia's eyes had started to mist, "I know how he did it. I watched him. I was there. You see I was one of the three young women. I've been with him ever since." She recovered, "If you want to know how he did it you'll have to get him to tell you." She squeezed his arm extra hard, "All I know is he's a mighty big man in my eyes."

In the room there was a hushed silence. Everyone had heard the tale of the boat, and most had heard of the miracle of the mountains, but until then no one, except a few, had ever seen the man.

Shawn squirmed, "We have a big task ahead of us in Africa. Let's just hope nobody gets caught doing something stupid."

His comment broke the silence and the ice. Everyone laughed. Everyone looked at the man in the old looking improperly fitting suit a little differently too.

The next several days were given over to inventorying the supplies, and getting ready for the next leg of the trip. Their next flight would take them to Scotland for a second orientation session, then to Germany for shots and some language instruction.

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Susan watched as the plane faded into the sky. It was a tall sky with high stratus clouds. She felt gloomy, sad. Shawn had complicated her life. Not long before she was a clear minded competent totally self-actualized young woman. In a few months he had climbed in her life, her body and in her heart. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

After a good night's rest Susan plowed through her wardrobe, picked out one her favorite suits, and took off for her offices. She knew there was probably a mountain of work to catch up on, but she was confident, with the staff she had, most things would have been held together, and with her leadership everything would be running smoothly in no time.

She drove in to town and parked in a garage with valet services. She'd learned her lesson about underground garages.

She took the elevator to her suite of offices and strode in. As she expected nearly everyone was there.

First to greet her was Abigail the receptionist, "Oh Ms. Slattery we're so glad to see you back."

Within a few minutes everyone in the office was crowding around her. Where had she been? What happened? Did she know everyone thought she'd been kidnapped?

She stopped the wave of questions and explained what happened; how she had been abducted, and had been rescued by a mysterious man who'd paid $400,000.00 for her freedom. She described in detail the squalid conditions of her captive cell, and the gross vulgarity of the men who held her. Everyone listened in fascinated awe.

Happily she returned to her office to check the mail, the Internet, and her schedule. As expected several clients had called and changed attorneys. Others had called and hoped to stay on until something definite was determined one way or the other. She spent most of the rest of the afternoon calling other lawyers assuring them of her safe return, and in calling absconded clients and clients on hold with the good news. She had no way of knowing, but it was the best day she was going to have for some time.

The next morning her paralegal gave notice, and over the next several hours she lost four of her five secretaries as well as Abigail. They all had the same story. When reports of Susan's abduction made the news everyone feared the worst. Out of self preservation they began to scout around for new places to work. Most found opportunities within a few days. It didn't hurt that most knew in intimate detail most of the facts about Susan's client base.

Everyone had the same story. They all loved Susan. They all loved working for her, but two disappearances within a few months were too disquieting. They had to think of their own families, their own careers, and the bills they all had to pay. They were sorry she'd been abducted, they were glad she'd been rescued, but it didn't change any minds.

Susan decided, after the morning she'd had, a trip to the tavern for a light nonalcoholic lunch was in order. Everyone at the bar, just as at work, was glad to see her. There were few secrets in the legal community, and the story she related about a mystery man coming to her rescue had crossed the courtroom prairie like a wild fire. Everyone wanted to hear the story.

Susan was only too glad to retell it; she had little else to do until she restocked her office. She spent most of her lunch at the counter explaining and re-explaining the details of her capture and her rescue. After every retelling she was greeted with compassion and empathy. If it had been an Irish pub there wouldn't have been a dry eye in the place.

She returned to her office to another interesting surprise. Waiting for her in the outer office were two city policemen. Her reappearance had reached police headquarters. They had some questions and some concerns.

The lead policeman, Seamus O'Hara, a twenty year veteran of the squad that handled strange cases had some questions. As he put it, her kidnapping and subsequent tale of rescue, based on what they'd been told, needed a little more clarity.

Susan reiterated her tale to the police.

After listening Officer O'Hara asked, "Ms. Slattery we believe your story, but it sounds a little odd. Could you tell us a little more about your rescuer?"

Susan told the officer as much as she dared without revealing Shawn's true identity or too much about the events that followed.

The officer continued, "Your rescue was accomplished by a mystery man. Do you understand how far-fetched that sounds?"

Susan answered, "It may sound far-fetched but that's what happened."

The officer looked at his notes, "You were kidnapped from the parking garage, taken to a dirty hideaway, but a few days later you were cleaned up and turned over to a man who you allege paid out $400,000.00 for your safe return"

Susan nodded, "That's correct."

O'Hara tilted his head, "And you never met the man who picked you up."

Susan, "Not before that evening."

The policeman asked, "Didn't you have an earlier unexplained disappearance a few months earlier?"

Susan, "That wasn't unexplained. I took a few days off."

O'Hara put his notebook down, "How have you been doing? Financially I mean."

Susan, "Not that's its any of your business, but I lost a few clients after my earlier vacation."

O'Hara, "I'll say. We checked into your client listings while you were missing. You understand. We weren't snooping. You had obviously been grabbed. Every client, every contact became suspect. Between the time of your, let's say unannounced vacation, and your abduction you lost close to ten percent of your original customer base."

Susan, "I know I lost a few people early on, but I more than made up for it later."

O'Hara, "You mention a man named Camulos. Do you know who he is?"

Susan, "Yes, he was the awful man who drove me to the meeting site where I was released."

O'Hara, "You consider him one of your kidnappers."

Susan, "I certainly do."

O'Hara, "Did you know Oscar Camulos is a leading citizen. He may have contributed to your release."

Susan's jaw hit the floor, "No. Not true. My rescuer told me he was a syndicate man."

Policeman O'Hara put his notebook away, clicked his pen shut and dropped it in his coat pocket, "Ms. Slattery everything you've told us is certainly interesting, but nothing adds up. We have the footage of your abduction, but nothing else until you amazingly reappear at your office."

Susan responded apologetically, "Well I'm sorry, but that's the way it happened."

Officer O'Hara asked, "Ms. Slattery have you ever heard of Aimie Semple McPherson?"

Susan pushed herself back in her chair. She certainly had heard about McPherson. She had been a 1920's evangelist who mysteriously disappeared only to reappear with a confused and highly improbable story, "Yes I know who she was."

Officer O'Hara asked, "Do you understand what fraud is?"

Susan was getting angry, "I'm a lawyer Officer O'Hara. I know what fraud is."

O'Hara asked, "You know what a hoax is."

Susan saw where he was headed, "Of course I do. I'm not trying to perpetrate a hoax."

Officer O'Hara smiled, "Of course not, but just the same, if you wouldn't mind, maybe you'd like to stop in at headquarters tomorrow and answer a few more questions."

Susan, put off and angry answered, "I've a business to run, maybe if I have time."

Officer O'Hara, "Make it say 9:00 a.m."

Susan just looked at him, stunned, "We'll see."

Officer O'Hara smiled and got up to go. He started for the door, but then he turned around, "Oh by the way. You wouldn't mind a lie detector would you?"

Susan thumped her fist on her desk, "Good day Officer O'Hara."