The Facts Of Death

by Raymond Benson

  Bond glanced at Hera to see what she made of all this. She was standing at attention, staring straight ahead, expressionless.

  “I selected nine of my most trusted and faithful followers to occupy the other seats of leadership in the Decada. Each of them an expert in their own field, each with a sizable team of followers to perform the various tasks we needed done. Five men and five women, each representing the Pythagorean contraries of Odd and Even—odd being male, even being female. I, naturally, became the One, the Monad. I appointed Hera here to be the Duad, the Two. My late cousin Vassilis was the Seven. I regret that I must replace him. You are responsible for the deaths of two of my numbers, Mr. Bond. You will pay dearly for that.”

  “Why did you attack the British bases in Cyprus?” Bond asked.

  “The gods commanded it. The British played no small part in what happened in Cyprus in 1974. They did nothing to stop the Turks from invading.”

  “And Alfred Hutchinson? Why did you kill him?” Bond turned to Hera. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the assassin with the spiked umbrella in London.”

  Romanos answered for her. “Yes, it was Hera. She is my sword. I met Hera in Cyprus in 1978. She was a mere youngster then, weren’t you, Hera? She was the most vicious, hardened, and most dangerous twelve-year-old girl I had ever seen. We became very close, I’m not ashamed to say. She has been with me ever since.”

  “Lovely story,” Bond said. “Sick, but lovely.”

  Hera reached over to slap him again, but, curiously, she hesitated. She resumed her silent stance as Romanos continued.

  “But you asked about Hutchinson. As I mentioned before, I was in Texas for a while. Through my underground connections, I was put in touch with an American militant group there called the Suppliers. A go-between introduced me to Charles Hutchinson, a spoiled, rich playboy who was a courier for the Suppliers. He also happened to be the son of another distinguished guest lecturer at the University of Texas, where I was teaching. The boy and I—we did business together. The Suppliers began to transport biological and chemical weapons to the Decada via the Suppliers’ front of selling frozen sperm to countries around the world. Eventually, I masterminded a plot to frame the Suppliers’ leader, a redneck named Gibson. He was arrested and put in prison. From then on, I assumed leadership of the Suppliers from afar without the rest of their organization realizing it. I controlled all of their connections worldwide. It allowed the Decada to broaden its power base and make more money, but the militant group’s usefulness soon wore out.

  “The boy’s father, your late Ambassador to the World—what a joke—obtained some vital information regarding the so-called Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. The Decada tried to obtain that information by employing Charles to get it. Charles made a complete mess of it, and his father got wind of what he was up to. Alfred Hutchinson threatened to go to your secret service with the information, so he had to be eliminated. His son betrayed us. Of course, once his father was killed, he foolishly tried to get even by alerting the Turkish Cypriot authorities in Famagusta of our little anthrax scheme. The Duad here kept close tabs on Charles when he got to Greece a few days ago. He was eliminated too. I can’t abide traitors.”

  “Then you never got Hutchinson’s information?” Bond asked.

  “I didn’t say that. Number Ten, Dr. Anderson, knew that Hutchinson had stored the information on his computer in his Austin home. She had infiltrated the ranks of the Suppliers on my orders, before Gibson was imprisoned. I felt it would be useful to have one of our own keeping an eye on those Texas rednecks. They had become a bit careless in the past few months—several of their couriers had been caught, and it was only a matter of time before Charles would have been arrested. Your agent in Athens, Whitten, he was onto them. Had he been alive when Charles made his next delivery, Whitten would have nabbed him. The link between the Suppliers and the Decada would have been discovered. Therefore, Whitten had to die. He was the target of the first strike.”

  “And you destroyed the Suppliers’ laboratory because the authorities were onto you?”

  “That’s right. The FBI was too close to shutting them down. We didn’t need them anymore. Our Number Eight is a brilliant biochemist. We’re coming up with a little bug of our own. It is still in the experimental stage, but it will soon be ready to test. It will make the ebola virus seem like the common cold.”

  “I take it that Number Eight is Melina Papas, the president of BioLinks Limited?”

  “You are clever, Mr. Bond!”

  “Is this the same bug that is causing epidemics in Los Angeles and Tokyo?”

  Romanos looked at him as if he were mad. “I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”

  Bond wasn’t sure if he believed him. “Just what do you want, Romanos? What the hell are you after?”

  “The gods have ordered the Decada to disgrace and humiliate Turkey for what they did to Cyprus, and to make a statement to the world about the power of the holy Tetraktys, the number ten.”

  “And how do you plan to do that? Are you attacking mainland Turkey or just northern Cyprus?”

  “I’ve told you too much already, Mr. Bond. That part of our plan will remain a secret. Let’s just say we have a little help from the Greek military. One of their senior officers, a brigadier general, is Number Five in the Decada.”

  Romanos finished his wine and set down the glass. “I must leave you now, Mr. Bond. I have business to attend to in Athens. You will be sailing on the Persephone for a short while. Hera will watch over you and see that you’re made perfectly uncomfortable.”

  “Wait a minute, Romanos,” Bond said, stalling for time. “You didn’t tell me everything about Alfred Hutchinson. You knew him before you were in Texas. I saw your picture with him at the New Pythagorean headquarters in Cape Sounion.”

  Romanos shrugged. “I didn’t say we weren’t acquainted before then. As a matter of fact, we worked together. Remember that great deal of capital I told you I received in 1981 that allowed me to quit the mercenary business? I came into possession of a large cache of seized Nazi gold that was hidden in Athens since the war. It had been secreted away by Alfred Hutchinson’s father, who was stationed in Greece. During my mercenary days, I became business partners with Alfred, and together we sold off the gold all over the world. It’s how he financed his political career. Then, with Alfred’s diplomatic connections, we were able to completely cover our tracks. We both became very wealthy.”

  Christ, Bond thought. Hutchinson was a crook. “And was he a member of your Decada?”

  “I’m not going to answer that,” Romanos said. “Oh, and by the way … we did eventually recover Hutchinson’s information that he had on his computer. There was a copy of the disk that we got our hands on. We now know everything there is to know so that we can proceed with our next three Tetraktys attacks. It’s a shame you won’t be around to see them.”

  “You’re a raving lunatic, Romanos!” Bond shouted. He turned to the girl. “Hera, you can’t possibly believe this man! He’s deranged, don’t you see?”

  “This is the Monad,” Hera said. “His will is that of the gods.”

  Bond closed his eyes. She was as far gone as Romanos.

  “Why the numbers, the statuettes of the Greek gods? Why were bodies dumped on sacred ruins?”

  “It was how the gods ordered it. They wanted the world to know that we were working for them. The gods used to walk the earth, you know. All of those places were homes to them. If a location wasn’t available, we were instructed to leave a small icon representing them at the site. The numbers were simply a count-off from the holy Tetraktys. ”

  “You know your plan won’t accomplish what you hope, Romanos,” he said. “If you attack Turkey, they’ll blame Greece.”

  “Bravo, you’re not as stupid as I thought,” Romanos said.

  “But a war between Greece and Turkey? What good will that do? The entire Balkan area will be in ruins. NATO will find a way to st
op it swiftly.”

  “If that is a side effect of our strikes, then I can’t help that. The Greek government is too cowardly and weak to initiate the war with Turkey. I have to lead them and show them the way. The Greeks will realize that I am the One and they will follow me to victory. We have the gods on our side, and the gods never die.”

  Romanos gave Bond a slight bow. “Goodbye, Mr. Bond. Andio. I hope you die a painful death so that my cousin’s and poor Dr. Anderson’s souls receive some satisfaction.”

  With that, he left the room. Bond had known some insane men in his time with equally mad schemes to bring destruction to the world. Romanos just moved to the top of the list. Only in a world full of fanaticism, bigotry, terrorism, and evil could such a scheme exist, much less be believed and implemented by a mass of people. What were the three remaining Tetraktys attacks? Could the virus that was found in the briefcase in Texas be the same homemade bug created by Melina Papas? If so, then it certainly was not still in the experimental stage—it was ready for mass murder. Could Romanos have something else up his sleeve that he wasn’t revealing?

  Bond was alone with Hera. She took the chair that Romanos had used and pulled it up in front of him. She sat on it with the back facing Bond, her arms draped around it. She reached over to the block of cheddar cheese and removed the kitchen knife.

  “Now, let’s see,” she said. “What are we going to do to amuse ourselves while we’re on our journey?”

  Niki Mirakos waited on the causeway separating Gefyra and Monemvasia. It had been an hour since Bond was taken onto the yacht. What were they doing in there? Torturing him? Killing him? Three times during the hour, she was tempted to storm the boat alone, but she knew she was outnumbered. She had placed a call to headquarters in Athens as soon as Bond was on the boat. A team was on its way and would be there any minute by helicopter.

  Suddenly there was movement on the boat and Konstantine Romanos walked down the ramp to the dock. He got into a black Mercedes and was whisked away. The men on the Persephone began to untie the yacht from the dock. The motors started. She was about to sail away.

  Niki elected to stay with the boat rather than follow Romanos. She ran back to Bond’s Jaguar and used her spare key to get inside. She then called her headquarters to see what was keeping the team.

  The Persephone pulled away from Gefyra and out into the Mirtoön Sea.

  TWENTY-ONE

  BY THE SKIN OF THE TEETH

  HERA BEGAN BY LIGHTLY SLIDING THE SHARP POINT OF THE KNIFE OVER Bond’s face. She took her time, slowly moving it along the skin. Any more pressure and the knife would penetrate the outer layer of tissue. Bond kept perfectly still.

  She didn’t say a word. She seemed fascinated by Bond’s face, the way a young girl might gaze upon a new doll. She traced the nose and around the nostrils with the blade. She ran it along his lips and even placed it gently in his mouth and twisted it. She moved it around his eyes and eyebrows, and repeated these various patterns of sadistic massage for what seemed like an hour. In a way, it was a pleasurable sensation. If Hera had been a woman he trusted, it might have been an extremely sensual way of tormenting someone. Bond wondered, though, how long it would take before she got a little rougher.

  She ran the knife along his right cheek and finally asked, “How did you get the scar, James? Shall I add a matching one on the other side? I do like things to be symmetrical. I’ve been studying your face. I think I know how I’m going to reshape it.”

  “It’s only a matter of minutes before the Greek Secret Service stops this boat. My associates know I’m here,” he said. “If I don’t report in, they’ll come for sure.”

  “And if you’re nowhere to be found on the boat, they will have to admit their mistake and leave. We have nothing to hide here.”

  “What’s in all those crates?”

  “Food. Supplies. For our base.”

  “Oh? Where’s your base?”

  Hera placed the edge of the knife at Bond’s throat. “You ask too many questions, James. Along with rearranging your face, I just might have to cut out your vocal cords. The Greek government knows Konstantine Romanos. He’s a respected citizen. His boat is known to the authorities. They wouldn’t dare stop it.”

  “Can’t you see he’s mad, Hera?”

  She slashed the knife lightly and swiftly across his neck. A thin stream of blood appeared.

  “That was only a scratch. Next time I’ll press harder.”

  Bond said nothing. He stared at her coldly, daring her to do her worst. The blood trickled down his chest onto his shirt.

  “Did you see that film about those American bank robbers?” she asked. “You know, the one where a psycho bank robber tortures a cop? The cop is sitting there in the chair, tied up like you are. The bank robber cuts off the cop’s ear. Did you see that movie?”

  “No.”

  “It was bloody. Pretty violent. The cop gets beaten up pretty good. Then he gets his ear cut off. It was very realistic.”

  She circled his left ear with the knife.

  “I saw another movie where a woman had an ice pick and she stabbed her lover to death in bed. She just stabbed him and stabbed him and stabbed him … It was very bloody. Did you see that one?”

  “I don’t go to the cinema much.”

  “There was another movie that had these two crazy killers—a man and a woman who were lovers—they went on a spree across America, killing people. They get caught and sent to prison. In the prison, they cause a riot and everybody gets cut up or shot. It was the bloodiest movie I ever saw. Did you see that one?”

  “I’ll bet you’re loads of fun on a date, Hera,” Bond said.

  The nylon ropes were tied around Bond’s upper arms and chest. His forearms were free and he could bend his arms at the elbows. She took his right hand and raised it from his lap.

  “You have nice hands, James,” she said, tracing the veins on top with the point of the knife. Bond had a sudden recall of a night many years ago, when a SMERSH assassin cut a Russian letter into the back of his right hand. The skin had been grafted, but a faint white patch remained. “Look at this,” she said. “Looks like you burned yourself or something. That’s not your original skin there, is it?”

  Bond didn’t answer her. She turned his hand over so that the palm was facing up. She peered closely at it.

  “You have a very strong head line,” she said. “The heart line is interesting. There are a few breaks in it. Your heart was broken … one, two … three … four times? You’ve been married once. Your life line … hmmm … it’s very strong. Your head line is strange. You are not a happy man in your life, James. It seems that nothing completely satisfies you. Am I right? Why is that? I should think you would have everything your heart desires. Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. You know we can change the destiny that our palms foretell. We just have to redesign the lines …”

  With that, she viciously and swiftly carved a triangle into the palm of his hand with three deliberate strokes of the knife. Bond almost cried out in pain, but he gritted his teeth and held it in. He clenched his fist tightly, pressing on the wound to stop the bleeding.

  Hera stood up and kicked away her chair. “I think it’s time we take that ear off. Which one shall it be? The right or the left? After we do the ears, we’ll do the lower lip. Then I’ll carve off the upper lip. You’ll never kiss anyone again, lover boy. Doing the nose will be pretty messy, but I think it should be next. You’ll still be alive by the time we get to your eyes. One at a time. Pluck. Pluck. We’ll save the tongue for last. I’ll split it in two, then I’ll cut the entire thing out and feed it to the fish. I haven’t decided if I want to examine other parts of your body after all that, but I probably will. It’s going to be a slow, painful death, James. It’s a pity, for you’re very handsome. Well, you are now. You won’t be too pretty in a little while.”

  She took hold of his right ear and placed the blade of the knife against his scalp. Bond closed his eyes, wi
lling himself to fight the oncoming pain.

  There was a buzz on the intercom. She picked it up and spoke impatiently. “What is it?” She listened a moment, looked at Bond, frowned, and said, “All right. We’ll be right up.”

  She hung up and began to cut the nylon cords. “It seems we have some visitors. I’m going to take you out on deck so they can see you. You’re not to try anything. Do not look at them. Do not give them any signals. Keep your hands to your sides. I’ll give you something to wrap around that hand.”

  She found a handkerchief in Romanos’s desk, used it to wipe the blood from around his neck and chest, then wrapped it around Bond’s right hand. She continued cutting the ropes until Bond was free.

  “Let’s go. Get up slowly and don’t try anything foolish. Walk around like you’re enjoying yourself. I’ll have a gun on you the entire time.”

  She picked up Bond’s Walther PPK that Romanos had left behind. He noted that she still had the P99 in her belt.

  Bond stood up, clutching the handkerchief tightly around his hand. It was involuntarily shaking.

  They went up the wooden steps to the deck above. Four men were there, dressed in wet suits, standing at attention with their arms folded.

  A helicopter was hovering above the boat. It was an unmarked Gazelle, and Bond could see two people in it. He wondered if Niki might be the pilot, but it was too high to tell. He looked around the sea and saw other vessels on the water—a couple of sailing boats, a catamaran, and what looked like a cruise ship not too far away. There was an island about two miles off the bow of the ship.

  “Where are we?” Bond asked.

  “Near Santorini. Lie down on the deck chair,” Hera said. “Act like you’re enjoying the sun.” Together they sat on two chairs side by side. Bond stretched out and did as he was told. Was there anything he could do to signal the helicopter? Surely they were Niki’s people, keeping an eye on the boat.

  Hera said something to one of the men in Greek. He acknowledged the order, then proceeded to put on a Dacor tank.