The StarSight Project

by S. P. Perone

  The first thing she felt was his hands grabbing her wrists, and pulling them behind her. Again she felt the cold, harsh pressure of the handcuffs being applied. Next, she felt the release of the shackles from her ankles, and heard the shackles tossed on to the bathroom floor. Within seconds, she felt his hand grasping her left arm, and guiding her out of the bathroom.

  She walked more than a dozen steps with Sharif at her side. Then, he halted, and jerked back on her arm, causing her to rotate a quarter turn. Feeling both of his hands on her shoulders, she was pushed backwards against a piece of furniture which hit her just above the knees. Falling backwards, she found herself seated on what she believed was the large poster bed. Within seconds she felt his hands around her ankles, lifting her feet off the floor, and flipping her back and around so that she was on her back lying on the bed.

  She lay there, motionless, for a while…listening to the sounds of Sharif walking barefoot across the floor and then opening a drawer. Momentarily, he shut the drawer and returned. She felt his hands grasping her ankles, sliding her down towards the foot of the bed. Around one foot, she felt a silken cord looped over her ankle and pulled tight. A few seconds later she had the same sensation on the other foot. Within the next minute she found her legs spread wide, with the ankles firmly anchored, probably to the posts at the foot of the bed.

  Next, she felt his hands underneath her back, as she was propped up into an awkward sitting position. The handcuffs were removed quickly, placed in his pajama pocket, and Sarah was pushed back down on her back. Her right arm firmly in his grasp, she felt another silken loop tighten around her wrist. Firmly, the arm was pulled back and stretched out, as the other end of the cord was tied to the post at the head of the bed.

  Fully cognizant of what was happening now, and painfully aware that the flimsy gown did nothing to cover her, Sarah panicked. Lost her resolve. Swung out blindly with her one free hand, hitting nothing but air. Writhing and struggling with her bonds, her one arm swinging wildly, she began to scream. Reaching up with her left hand, she pulled at her blindfold, managing to remove the covering from her left eye.

  Garnering a brief sight of Sharif, on her left side, grasping for her free arm, she managed to pull her arm to the right across her body. As he reached across for her hand, she pulled her hand back and quickly pushed it up into his face, using her nails to scratch at his eyes.

  Howling in pain, Sharif lurched backwards pulling both hands up to his face. Sarah could see streaks of blood through his fingers. Still in a panic, she continued to writhe, trying to pull herself loose. Twisting her body and reaching over with her left hand, she found she could not quite reach the cord holding her right hand. Tugging and twisting she thought her fingers were getting closer, when suddenly she felt a blow to her ribs. Twisting in pain, she felt her left hand come into Sharif’s firm grasp. Instantly, the fourth cord had been looped over her hand, and she felt her arm being stretched and bound snugly to the anchor of the other bedpost.

  No longer screaming, but still writhing in a futile attempt to free herself, Sarah saw Sharif lean over her, grab her head on either side and restore the blindfold over her eyes. At first gratified by the brief peek that exposed several long vertical bloody scratches on his face, she was then shocked by the crazed fiery look in his eyes. Blindfolded again, she cringed as she felt him straddle her, his knees on either side of her thighs.

  “Now, my lovely Sarah, we shall begin to have some fun! Please, be patient. I will stimulate every part of your body…nothing will be left unfulfilled.”

  Thrusting her hips upwards, she tried to buck him off of her. The effort was futile. The only response she got was a solid tooth rattling slap across the cheek, which provoked yet another cry from her lips. Unable to control her responses any longer, she continued to cry out as he slapped her again and again. It seemed he would never stop.

  Through the blur of pain and the taste of her own blood, Sarah slowly became aware that this sadistic activity…and her response…were arousing him. Once again, she resolved to control herself and choke off her own screams.

  As she had hoped, the beating halted when…with all her strength…she managed to stifle her screams and cease writhing. She felt him get off her, and move off the bed. The sounds of the padding of his bare feet across the floor told her that he was probably headed for the Armoire and a selection of new tools to deliver pain.

  After what had seemed an eternity of digging, Shane had finally created enough of a trench to slide under the fence. Leaving his tool bag next to the trench, he took off toward the driveway. From a safe distance, he followed the driveway until he reached the villa. Hiding behind some tall shrubs on the perimeter of the large terrace in front of the villa, he noted that the structure was fully illuminated inside. And, the walkway to the front entrance was also well lit. He wondered how he might gain access undetected. Observing that the Mercedes was parked on the terrace leading up to the main entrance, Shane considered looking for a service entrance.

  It was then that he heard Sarah’s screams.

  Without hesitation, Shane emerged from his cover, and took off at full speed towards the steps leading up to the villa entrance. Reaching the large front doors, he discovered they were locked.

  The screams were louder and more frequent now.

  Pulling the 45 from his belt, Shane used the handle to break one of the door panes. Reaching inside he was able to unfasten the deadbolt, and unlock the door. Moving quickly into the entryway, he looked around to get his bearings. Looking ahead, he saw the alternate circular stairways to the second floor. Pausing to listen, he was sure the sounds were coming from the second floor, off to the right.

  He bolted across the luxurious rotunda area, and began leaping up the right stairway two steps at a time. He did little to minimize the noise that was made until he reached the top of the stairs. It was there that he stopped, and released the safety on his handgun. Then, moving quickly and silently, he followed the back wall to the right until he came to the corridor leading to the wing of bedrooms. Here, he peeked around the entryway, and observed light coming out the doorways of the first two rooms.

  Now, he could hear, not only Sarah’s screams, but also the sounds of repeated slaps resounding down the corridor.

  He ran to the first doorway, peeked in, and saw an empty room. Moving quickly to the next doorway, he peeked in, but could not believe his eyes. Sharif, in hideous red pajamas, had straddled Sarah on the bed and was repeatedly slapping her across the face. Then, he saw that she was bound to the bedposts, blindfolded and nude, except for a flimsy transparent gown.

  It was then he realized the screaming had stopped. At first he thought Sarah had been rendered unconscious. But, then he saw her moving. With Sharif’s back to him, Shane raised the pistol, holding it with two hands as Salomé had instructed, and took aim at the middle of Sharif’s back. Beginning to squeeze the trigger, he stopped suddenly. Inexperienced as he was with firearms, he was afraid he might strike Sarah.

  As Shane prepared to rush into the room and take him on with his bare hands, he saw Sharif get off the bed, and begin to walk toward the wall on Shane’s left. Pulling the 45 back up, Shane took aim once again, and squeezed the trigger.

  Click.

  Nothing happened. Shane had no idea what to do next. He squeezed the trigger again. Nothing this time.

  Without hesitation, Shane bolted into the room, dropping the gun, and leaping for his prey. But, Sharif had seen him, turned his way, eyes wide open. Dodging the brunt of Shane’s attack, Sharif put out his leg to trip him, and whacked him on the back of the head as he flew by.

  Shane landed in a heap on the floor, while Sharif ran to the Armoire and pulled a knife from the upper shelf. Whirling around, he found Shane lunging at him and he placed the knife in front of him, hoping that it would absorb Shane’s attack.

  At the last split-second, Shane saw the knife aimed at his chest and batted the wrist away, causing the knife to go flying across the
floor. Sharif took advantage of this move by Shane to whip his left leg under Shane’s knees, lifting his feet off the ground and sending him backward on his head. Moving quickly, Sharif retrieved the knife and whirled around to find Shane only a foot away at the end of a diving tackle. Both of them landed on the floor, while Shane struggled to grasp Sharif’s wrist and prevent him from driving the knife into his back.

  They rolled across the floor, with neither man gaining an advantage, Sharif’s knife hand immobilized by Shane’s grip. Then, Sharif, lying on his back, began rocking his opponent back and forth, finally gaining enough momentum to roll them over a couple times until they slid into the water-filled Jacuzzi. As Shane continued to grasp his opponent’s wrists and hold the knife at bay, Sharif arranged to gain the leverage to hold Shane’s head under the water. Shane could not budge. Any motion that would free him from the water would also neutralize his restraint of Sharif’s knife hand.

  Though his struggles had nearly consumed all the air in his lungs, Shane braced himself for one last surge that would propel Sharif upward and allow Shane to get some air. This maneuver would require him to release both of Sharif’s wrists, but he would just have to absorb the thrust of the knife, and hope for the best.

  As Shane released his grasp, to place his hands on Sharif’s chest, he felt the man levitate off of him, as if gravity had just disengaged. Instantly, Shane propped himself up, gasping for air, ready to fend off a slashing knife attack.

  It was then he saw Sharif with his limbs outstretched, and a black leather-clothed arm wrapped firmly around his neck in a death grip. Miraculously, Salomé was there, grasping him from behind. With her other hand clutching and extending the wrist of his knife hand, she was telling him to drop it or she would break his neck.

  The knife dropped into the Jacuzzi, as Sharif chose to live a little longer.

  “Tony. Get out of this tub and get your gun. I want you to keep this piece of shit under control while I go over and release Sarah.”

  Shane noticed that Salomé had discarded her rifle…probably not wanting to risk a shot during the scuffle. The last thing Shane wanted to do was to let Sharif know that his handgun was jammed. So, he decided to bluff through it. But, first, he picked up the knife Sharif had dropped.

  Climbing out of the Jacuzzi, he walked over to the doorway and picked up his discarded pistol. Then, he returned to where Salomé continued to hold Sharif in her grasp. Applying pressure to his neck, Salomé forced Sharif to sit down in the Jacuzzi, while Shane held the firearm pointed at him. Then, she released him and ran quickly to Sarah.

  After untying Sarah’s feet and hands, Salomé examined the cuts and bruises on her face, and the large red bruise on her ribs. She went into the bathroom to get a wet towel to clean the blood off of Sarah’s face. Sarah could see Salomé becoming more and more agitated. Finally, Salomé could restrain herself no longer. She whirled and screamed at their captive.

  “You sonofabitch, Sharif! You fucking coward! I’m not gonna let you die until I’ve cut off your balls and shoved them down your throat! You hear me? You’re gonna suffer ten times for every girl you’ve done this too, you miserable fuck!”

  Striding over to where Sharif was sitting in the Jacuzzi, she stood over him. “You don’t know who the Hell I am, do you? You miserable degenerate bastard! You don’t know how I know who you are? Huh? You’ve screwed over so many women; you don’t even remember one unsuspecting eighteen-year old you brutalized thirteen years ago. Well…you can be sure I never forgot it. And, you can be sure I’ve been waiting to get you, you crazy, twisted excuse for a human being.”

  With that she took a step forward and swung her booted foot at Sharif’s head. Abruptly, without warning, he grabbed her boot and flipped her on her back. Lunging out of the Jacuzzi, he grasped the stunned Salomé, and pulled her to her feet, keeping her between Shane’s gun and himself. His firm chokehold kept her immobilized.

  Quickly, dragging her with him, he backed toward the doors leading to the balcony overlooking the pool.

  “Shoot him, Tony!” she screamed. “Don’t let him get away! Don’t worry about me!”

  Unfortunately, Shane didn’t think he could fire, even if he wanted to. And, he didn’t want to; with a chance of hitting Salomé.

  Opening the French door with one hand, Sharif backed out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. Then, still holding Salomé immobile, he moved a chair over in front of the door, positioning it under the doorknob so that the door could not be opened easily. Removing the handcuffs he had placed in his pajama pocket earlier, he slipped one cuff over Salomé’s wrist, and slipped the other around a leg of the table on the balcony.

  “Before I leave you, Salomé, let me ask when you found out my identity. Was it tonight? At the exchange?”

  Still in the firm grip of his chokehold, Salomé remained silent.

  “What? Nothing to say? You certainly gave me an earful back there in the bedroom.”

  “I should have killed you tonight,” he reflected. “Did you know that was my plan? You were very clever to get away. You know I would have had a contract out on you within twenty-four hours, don’t you? The only reason I don’t break your neck right now is because I need you as a shield. Rest assured, you are a dead person, Salomé. Once I leave here, your can count the hours.”

  “What I don’t understand,” he continued, “is why you didn’t eliminate Shane, and go on. Of everything you’ve done, that is what surprises me the most.”

  “You don’t get it, do you, Solomon…Bear…whatever you call yourself,” she responded. “When I discovered I was really working for you, Sharif, I knew that my next contract would be to track you down and rid the world of its sickest vermin.”

  Just then, Sharif noticed the rifle Salomé had left out on the balcony. It was a few paces away. Calculating how quickly he could retrieve the weapon and level a shot at Tony Shane…and then Salomé…he thought he might have a chance. Shane was inexperienced, and probably not a good shot. He would not be expecting this kind of maneuver. It was worth the risk.

  Salomé also noticed the rifle, and sensed what Sharif was going to attempt. She prepared for a counter-measure.

  Suddenly releasing the grip on his hostage-shield, Sharif leaped to his left, picking up the rifle in one fluid movement. Instantly, releasing the safety, and raising it to his shoulder, he took aim. As he had expected, Shane was momentarily surprised by the maneuver, and was a sitting duck target. As he squeezed the trigger, he was struck broadside by a flying balcony chair that Salomé had been able to reach and fling with one hand.

  The rifle discharged harmlessly into the outside wall, as Sharif was thrust on his side, with the rifle flying off the balcony. Without hesitation, he rose, grabbed the ledge of the balcony and leapt over, falling twelve feet to the pool below. Swimming quickly to the closest side, he pulled himself out. Knowing he had only a few seconds before Shane burst through the door, and got a shot off at him from the balcony, he measured his options. He did not have keys to the Mercedes; he couldn’t get far on foot; the sea was his only chance. He ran quickly toward the low wall at the edge of the terrace. Knowing that it would be high tide about this time, Sharif flipped himself over the wall, and perched on the narrow ledge overlooking the churning sea. An excellent swimmer and diver, he did not hesitate, but instead launched himself forward with all his strength, and executed a perfect high-dive into the dark swirling pool below.

  Breaking the glass on the balcony door, Shane reached through and released the chair. Bursting through, he ran to the edge of the balcony, searching for a glimpse of Sharif. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Sarah came running up quickly to Salomé’s side. “Are you OK?” she said.

  “I’m fine, Sarah. Do you know where he kept the keys to these cuffs?”

  “He’s got a bunch of paraphernalia tucked into that armoire back by the bathroom. Maybe there are some keys there. I’ll go look.”

  Turning to Salomé, Shane asked
if she had seen where Sharif went.

  “Yes”

  “Well, where did he go? Should I go after him?”

  “Don’t waste your time, Tony. He went over the wall. He’s either dead, or the best diver I’ve ever seen.”

  “Why didn’t you shoot him?” she asked crossly.

  Embarrassed, Shane showed her the gun. “It doesn’t work.”

  As Sarah came running up with the handcuff keys, a terrycloth robe from the bathroom now wrapped around her, she found Salomé there with her mouth open, speech eluding her. She was staring incredulously at the inoperative pistol in Shane’s hand that had bluffed Sharif over the wall.

  Epilogue.

  The Senator’s funeral in Santa Barbara had been difficult. The Governor of California, the Vice-President, and several other political dignitaries were there. Ellen Moorhouse and their daughter were attended by several members of their families. The historic old Spanish cemetery where he was buried had been the burial place for the Senator’s parents and grandparents. At some, hopefully distant, future date It would also be Ellen’s burial place.

  All of the StarSight team, and Carothers as well, had been there, but they had all kept in the background. None of them, including Carothers, were there officially. In fact, Carothers was there despite the express wishes of the Director. Although the true identity of the “African-American businessman” in Zurich had shortly come to light, the basic cover story regarding the Senator’s death had continued to hold up. And, the CIA wanted to avoid any unnecessary exposure to a probing press corps. Nevertheless, there was no way Carothers would miss the funeral of his dear friend. From him, Shane had learned that Ellen Moorhouse would be taking her husband’s place in the U.S. Senate. Carothers said he was sure she would do well in the Senate. She was a strong, intelligent woman. He was looking forward to working with her.