Conjuring Darkness

by Melanie James

  The phone made a series of clicking sounds before an older woman’s voice interrupted Lexi’s ogling, “Osprey Group, please state your customer ID.” Lexi glanced at the instructions and gave out the number. “Thank you, you must be Kate Karnstein. How may I help you?” Lexi decided that perhaps she should just let the woman assume she was in fact Kate.

  “I was given instructions to specifically ask for the assistance of a Mr. Kidd. Can you please tell me how to reach him?”

  “Mr. Kidd is not available in your region. We only set up face to face meetings with our clients. If you wish I can arrange a meeting with our representative in Maryland.”

  “No, I have been told that I specifically need Mr. Kidd. Is there any way I can meet with him?”

  “Yes there is, but you will have to take a flight to Medellin Colombia. I’ll set up the flight and instructions for the meeting and send it to the fax number at your location. You must follow them exactly once I make the arrangements, so that Mr. Kidd can pick you up at the airport in Medellin. Now, please verify the bank account and release authorization for our prearranged contract amount.”

  “Prearranged contract amount?”

  “Yes, Mr. Karnstein has a contract for services with us and a part of that is an arrangement for the funding.”

  Lexi gave her the bank information from the instructions that Kurt had left and then waited for the fax machine to print the incoming message. After a few minutes she realized that staring at a machine had absolutely no effect on it.

  What the hell am I getting into? Maybe I should have brought Marcie along. What would she tell me? Probably, “Just remember it is just a flight, meet with this guy that you can trust and you will both go on to meet Kate and everything will be fine.”

  She realized that night had fallen and thought to call Marcie to see how things were going. After a couple of tries, she left a message. She’s probably working late at the coffee shop or off at the tanning salon.

  The fax machine came to life and sheets of paper slid out and fluttered to the floor. Lexi quickly gathered them up and looked over her travel arrangements. The flight to Medellin didn’t depart for four days. “This is bullshit! I don’t have that kind of time to wait.” She dialed the number back to plead with the faceless woman, only to reach clicking noises then a dial tone. She noticed that the papers had a local phone number to contact Mr. Kidd in Colombia.

  She quickly dialed it, only to find that it was restricted to calls coming from within Colombia. Lexi hated to be put into a situation where she had no control and felt it was time to do things on her terms.

  She contacted the airlines and scheduled a new flight to leave in the morning. Well Mr. Kidd, I hope you aren’t too busy because I am arranging this meeting. Outside the window Lexi heard a strange noise. It sounded like branches cracking. She looked out and felt panicked. There on a branch was an owl. It looked like the same kind that had been outside of her window at home. Her response to overcome fear was anger. She threw open the window and shouted at the owl, “Get the fuck out of here bird! Leave me alone!”

  She closed the window and turned back into the room. The day’s events played heavily in her mind. Physically and emotionally exhausted and unable to keep her eyes open much longer, she decided to sleep in Kate’s bed. Her plan for the morning was to gather up some of the cash, the coin and then make her flight. She knew that she needed a good night’s rest.

  The following morning she rose early, packed the coin and a few personal items in her backpack. She also packed a few days’ worth of clothes into a small suitcase. Marcie had returned her call and reported that everything was fine. Lexi pursued the adventure with a renewed vigor and with a sense that she had finally gained some control of her fate.

  She made the flight to Miami along with her connection to Colombia. Her plane landed uneventfully in Medellin. The customs officers grilled her on her reason for arrival, to which Lexi simply responded for tourism. One of the men made Lexi uneasy as he kept looking at her as if he were trying to identify her. She hastily walked out of the airport to the lines of taxi’s, which were all taken. All she wanted was to just get a hotel room and then figure out how to meet Kidd. Lexi looked around and felt excited to be in Colombia. It was like nothing she had ever seen or imagined.

  The open space in front of the airport was packed with people and the different language made it seem as if Lexi had found herself in the midst of a swarm of bees. A middle aged man dressed in shades of khaki and white approached her. He wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke English with a strong accent “Señorita, instead of a taxi, I have a car for hire. I will be your guide and I can take you anyplace you like in town.”

  “Right now, I’m looking for a nice hotel. If you can take me to a four or five star hotel in a good and safe part of town, I’ll gladly take your offer. Can you do that?”

  “Si Señorita. Certainly, my car is right over there. She walked across the street with him to the large black sedan and opened the back door. As soon as she climbed in she knew she was in trouble. Two men were in the back of the car. A thick sweaty hand covered her mouth and she could feel that the skin was rough and rasp-like. Another man held her tight by pulling her arms back behind her. She could smell the stench of alcohol and tobacco on them. The hand on her mouth had a bitter and salty taste that seeped into her mouth. She tried kicking wildly to get the door to stay open, but it was too late. She felt the car moving and was panicked by the realization that they were now speeding away out of the city.

  Chapter Three

  There isn’t anything that can prepare a person for actually getting shot at. No, getting shot at was not like the movies. There, among the cacophony that accompanies the battlefield of fiction a single shot rings out. The hero ducks behind a handy obstacle just in the nick of time. Somehow, among the mass of confusion he miraculously maintains complete focus and intuition of knowing just which shot is aimed at him.

  For Kidd it was nothing like the old movies on TV. Those were the days, long ago. The faded old couch with fabric that couldn’t be described as quite tannish, or greenish, or brownish.

  It was more like a hideous mixture of all of them. As if some blind and drunken upholsterer had stretched something that resembled a soft burlap, over cushions that were rejected by the cushion factory because of their odd and lumpy shapes. In fact, these were the scars only achieved after a lifetime or more of dogs that slept, cats that scratched, and kids. Kids that made forts of the cushions and teenagers that lounged as if the couch were a hammock.

  Long ago banished to the basement the couch was the place that he would comfortably set up his ideal home theater. The old TV in a cabinet that looked like a dresser, but wasn’t, also bore the scars of time and cats. This was the time when a quiet summer night felt magical.

  The ancient rounded glass screen crackled alive with the war of ants in the snow, until a picture appeared. Old Westerns, War movies, and a final home for the alien invaders that once could only be found in some dusty drive-in.

  No, it wasn’t like those old movies at all. He and his team had been furiously firing their weapons at the rebels, who were darting for cover and exchanging fire back. The sounds of more than one grenade’s explosion joined in the deadly symphony until his ears were deafened and every nerve was concentrated on delivering accurate fire.

  The bullets were simply invisible and when his arm and leg were grazed by them, it was as if some unseen diabolical spirit was cracking a whip of razor wire across his skin. Like a snowball fight, it was the unseen and unexpected ones that got you.

  Kidd was crouched in tall grass on the edge of a forest that hid red mud hills and it went on forever. Next to him were his three teammates and a woman of perhaps twenty-five years old. She was beautiful. Her shorts and khaki shirt were soaking wet and covered in mud. Her auburn ponytail was draped over her shoulder and her soft white face was streaked with sweat and bits of debris from the forest. Her ball cap was dark grey and ha
d a single yellow “W” on the front. As she nervously made a slight smile to him, he wondered what the “W” stood for. Wisconsin? Washington? Maybe just “W” as in “What the hell just happened here?”

  What happened was, the client who had come to Colombia to meet him had gotten herself kidnapped by a group of low level cartel thugs. What the hell is so hard about following simple instructions?

  Two sweaty men covered in mud broke through the thick brush toward them. Kidd reached for his shoulder holster and drew out an ivory handled, silver revolver. The instant the criminals spotted the weapon they seemed to know Kidd, at least by reputation. They lowered their weapons to their sides and shouted back into the forest to any of their remaining compatriots to cease fire. The two men yelled several apologies and then ran back into the dense brush.

  Kidd was operating under the understanding that the woman was Kurt’s wife, Kate and not Kurt’s sister-in-law. Kidd looked at her, curious to finally meet Kurt’s wife. So this is Kurt’s wife? A little young to be married to an old guy like him!

  She seemed awfully young for Kurt. His thoughts were broken up by the sound of rotors chopping away at the humid air, like a machete missing its mark. Two olive drab helicopters quickly appeared over the trees and gently landed on the grassy field. As if trying to escape the fury of a tornado the group made a crouching walk against the wind and into the helicopters.

  The girl and Kidd went in one helicopter, while the remaining three men climbed aboard the other. They were barely inside when the machines lifted up and back over the trees. Kidd reached into a small backpack and pulled out a small device. He punched in a few characters on the keys to announce that they were done and pulling away.

  He handed the grateful girl a water bottle and thought about the exorbitant amount that Kurt had kept on deposit with Kidd’s organization to be used as a retainer for any emergency. It was expensive to have the convenience and security of an armed and global 911-like response at your disposal.

  Kurt had once said to Kidd that he and his friends were nothing more than pirates, thieves, and smugglers, but when the chips were down, they were the ones he wanted on his side.

  One million bucks pays for plenty of peace of mind. Kidd looked at the girl and thought. You look damn cute, but you look like every penny of a million bucks of trouble for me. Kidd figured that for Kurt it was probably worth it and more to keep this entire incident very quiet.

  She wasn’t supposed to have been in the country this early. The message he had received said to expect Kurt’s wife to arrive and discuss a case about her missing sister, but not for another 3 days. Information could sometimes get garbled but he had double checked the date and time of the arrival. It seemed odd to him that Kurt would have sent his wife down alone.

  There was much more to this situation and Kidd knew that the best option was to get this woman’s story, before he started to make calls back to the home office. It was way too early to make any sort of assumptions. He would get his answers from her in due time. At least she had the smarts to quickly dial his contact number and leave the line open long enough for him to realize that she had been grabbed. With the blessings of GPS tracking he knew right where to meet the kidnappers and he was backed up by some of his best men, with plenty of firepower.

  He looked at her again and then told her, “I need your cellphone, camera, any electronics you have with you.” She opened her small backpack, apparently relieved that she still had it with her after all that had transpired. She pulled out her phone and handed it over. Kidd quickly pulled the battery out and by habit he looked over the phone for anything unusual.

  The thick jungle canopy swelled and sank over hidden rolling hills and then finally, over one last ridge along a deserted coastline. By now the two helicopters had gone their separate ways. The helicopter carrying Kidd and the girl hovered over a level clearing atop a rocky bluff that displayed a good view to the sea before them. The helicopter set down just long enough for them to jump out with a couple of duffle bags and backpacks.

  The noisy chopper lifted up and disappeared over the horizon, while the two gathered their bags. Kidd led the girl into the forested hillside and down a winding path until they came to a larger dirt road, where they stopped. Silently, Kidd walked over to the side of the road and into the thick brush. He pulled back a large camouflage net that had kept his brown jeep hidden.

  There was no roof, only a windshield and a roll bar. He picked up the bags and tossed them into the back. He looked over to her gave her a smile and said, “Hop in and I’ll get you someplace to catch your breath.” She climbed in the passenger side and noticed how the road looked like nothing more than a river of red mud and rocks that wound through the trees. She locked her seatbelt as tight as she could.

  The jeep jolted off bouncing and turning. Classic rock music crackled through the speakers. She had been wondering what the mysterious Kidd would look like since she started this trip. There were just too many Hollywood stereotypes to choose from so she left her mind’s canvas blank until she actually met him. It appeared that he was in his early thirties no more than thirty-four, no less than twenty-seven she guessed. She was twenty-five and she figured that if they were from the same decade they could at least speak the same language. She took another look at him and then thought about it for a minute.

  He seemed less like the James Bond that she imagined, but not quite the Magnum P.I. she had imagined either. He did have the unbuttoned Hawaiian print shirt and the sunglasses though. Lexi liked his short, but thick head of black hair atop a face with rugged handsome features. Yet somehow he still had a bit of boyish cuteness about him.

  His body was covered in hard lines of muscles that were breathtakingly defined, but certainly not bulky like those over inflated body builders. His biceps were bigger than any she had seen and his shoulders were very broad. She could barely take her eyes off of his chest until the breeze pulled back his unbuttoned shirt. She blushed at her own reaction to seeing such well-defined abs. She was glad that she had put her sunglasses on so he wouldn’t notice how she was checking him out. She turned to look ahead at the road.

  Why should it matter what he looks like, this is business anyway. A guy that looks that hot is guaranteed to be a conceited prick. Lexi still had not gotten a look at his eyes and she was curious to get a better view of his face and find out if he matched any of the pictures on Kurt’s desk. She looked back and since she couldn’t see his face, she let her eyes wander down his body. I’d love to run my hands or tongue all over that. I thought only photo-shopped guys in magazines looked that hot.

  She knew for sure she had to be blushing as she looked down at his shorts and saw the visibly large bulge on the inside of his thigh. She looked back at the road ahead. Holy cats! Holy cats! Is that all him? No way!

  She remembered Kurt telling her that some of his younger friends had broken away from the military and the government to work more in the freelance field. Mercenaries, soldiers-of-fortune he called them.

  The rapid change in scenery took Lexi’s breath away. Sunlight flashed through the cover of greens until it suddenly broke open to blue. Before them waves crashed over a rocky shoreline that met a steep bluff. Lexi imagined it to be a green fortress wall against the sea.

  The jeep slowed to a stop. She looked up at the wooden stairs that went up and left to a landing, and then up and right to a deck that was perched some forty feet above them. There, attached to the deck was a single story wooden beach house.

  The wood siding had only remnants of chipped and faded blue and green paint common to coastal houses in that region, although the majority of the colors had long ago surrendered to the sea air. The windows were wide and covered with wooden slat shutters. The screen door looked as if it had seen plenty of abuse.

  Kidd opened the screen door and unlocked the deadbolt on a heavy wooden door. “Welcome to my humble shack. Nothing fancy here but it’s pretty comfortable and it’s my home.” The room was open and airy.
He raised the shutters and blinds to allow sunlight to stream in through many large windows. A warm salty breeze gently came in from the sea to join them.

  Lexi looked about the room. Several tall green leafy plants were scattered on the dark and worn wooden plank floors. Comfortable furniture of wood and wicker surrounded a large Persian rug. The walls were faded gray wood and well covered by shelves and assorted objects. She couldn’t quite ascertain whether they had been set out for display or just left wherever they had been set down. There were a few oriental statues, Greek vases, African masks, and more. In any case, she liked the fact that while it wasn’t dirty it was filled with the man’s things that were so varied. It spurred her curiosity about him.

  “So this is the lair of a secret agent for hire? It looks like a nautical antique shop.” She said. Kidd didn’t answer her. He was out on the deck and it sounded like he was talking to someone outside. Probably on his phone. She thought.

  The main room had a few doors that opened to what she presumed to be a bedroom and some closets. The living room was separated from a spacious kitchen by a peninsula countertop. The kitchen seemed like it was better organized than her own and she wondered if Kidd enjoyed cooking. It was hard to imagine a man like Kidd making a soufflé. She watched Kidd walk into the kitchen. She guessed he was about 6 feet tall. Maybe an inch or two taller. She had not known many men in her life and she had never been to the house of a man that lived by himself. She was intensely curious.

  “Can I offer you anything? Something to drink? Water, iced tea, coffee?” He asked.

  “Iced tea would be perfect, thank you. So how long before I can get back to civilization?”