by Teri Woods
The uniformed officer bent over Tita’s body, his fingers feeling for the carotid artery to take Tita’s pulse, but there was none.
“Le président est mort,” said the shaken security officer kneeling over Tita’s corpse. “Oh, mon Dieu, le président a été assassiné. Appel quelqu’un pour le secourir, vite!”
KISS OF DEATH
Two Weeks Later
Abuja, Nigeria
It was close to midnight and thousands of voters had gathered in a large field awaiting the results of what media outlets around the world were calling a “forced” presidential election. The country had been in a state of disorder ever since Tita’s assassination, which had resulted in a state of emergency. But, even though the media had managed to poison the minds of viewers, the people of Nigeria were relieved and ready for a new leader now that Tita was out of office. They wanted someone to take over who cared about them and would provide the necessities, such as fresh water, shelter, medical treatment, and schooling for the young.
Mr. Odouwo, Dutch, and Craze were sitting in a restaurant at the bar waiting for the votes to be tallied. The bar was packed; there was not an inch of space. It was like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. And when the polls came in indicating that Yusef Odouwo had won by a landslide, the huge crowd cheered with such total excitement that even Dutch was forced to jump for joy. Yusef arrived minutes later in a limousine and the people cheered even louder. He stood at the podium to deliver his victory speech.
“My people of Nigeria, we have been victorious! This is a very big moment! Not just for me but mainly for you! It is you who need change! It is you who need liberation! It is you who need to take care of your families! Too many of us die, not being able to live a decent and good life! And it’s not because we don’t want to, but it’s because we have been denied for far too long! This is an opportunity to fulfill who we are! And as your president, I want you to succeed! I want Nigeria and its people to not suffer anymore. We have suffered for far too long! I tell you, my people, the suffering ends tonight!”
The crowd cheered as Yusef waited patiently for them to calm down.
“My people of Nigeria, I plan to build up our beautiful nation as it once was and bring salvation to Nigeria! I was born to be your leader, and I won’t let you down! I promise you we are going to build together. I promise you, everyone will get more freedom and choices as long as I am president!”
The crowd began to chant “Odouwo for president.” Yusef smiled at how everything was taking shape.
“I’d like for my nephew to please take the stage,” he said, looking to his left through the massive crowd of people until his eyes found his nephew’s.
Mr. Odouwo quickly left Dutch and Craze and made his way through the mass of people and stood on the stage next to his uncle. He looked out into the crowd as they cheered and chanted the Odouwo name. It was then that Dutch realized Mr. Odouwo’s plan. He could now see it. The takeover was evident. With Tita out the way, Yusef Odouwo would control the country. Dutch realized all he had done in the streets of Newark was small and minute compared to what he had helped do for Nigeria; knowing now that his murderous ways had just gone global and international put a smile on his face.
Over the next few months Mr. Odouwo and Dutch obtained thirty-seven diamond mines scattered throughout the continent of Africa. Some mines were more plentiful than others, but overall, Mr. Odouwo kept his part of the deal and made Dutch a partner in the diamond trade. Mr. Odouwo had access to the richest, most powerful and elite socialites in the world. He would sell the diamonds to Europe’s prized privileged, then send his henchmen to steal back the precious stones. After a fatal robbery left one of his henchmen dead on the scene, Dutch decided that it would be he and Craze who would steal the diamonds back instead of Mr. Odouwo’s unreliable security team.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Odouwo when Dutch confronted him and told him how the deals would be carried out in the future. “What do you know about stealing?”
Dutch smiled his infamous grin. Stealing was how he got his start in life. He thought back to the good old days when he used to steal cars down at the port.
Mr. Odouwo technically had no choice or options when dealing with Dutch. He unfortunately was in the same boat with everyone else, and what Dutch wanted Dutch always got.
So Mr. Odouwo would sell the diamonds, then Dutch and Craze would steal them back. Then Mr. Odouwo would auction the diamonds off to the highest bidder only to have them stolen yet again. This was big business for him. But the even bigger business was the rarest of stones, which he was collecting for himself. Of course no one knew about his little secret of skimming off the top, nor did anyone know how much he valued the meticulous jewels. But one day soon, someone would dare to find out.
Dutch and Craze collaborated in the most brilliant of the schemes to steal back Odouwo’s diamonds after he sold them. It was second nature to them, easy pickings. Dutch and Craze were cold, heartless assassins and wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone standing in their way. Both successfully accomplished many a coup together for Odouwo, but it was the first one, the weirdest of all, that Dutch would never forget. How could he—Madrid, Spain, in springtime. His mission: to steal a set of clear yellow diamonds from the royal family, who were the descendants of King Ferdinand. King Ferdinand was the royal heir who funded Christopher Columbus’s search for a western route to Asia. Dutch arrived at the Casa de Villa, owned by Fernando Enrique. Fernando was a middle-aged man who lived off his family’s two-century-old wine empire. Fernando spent his wealth frivolously on expensive yachts, buying private islands, and purchasing dinosaur fossils, but his greatest fetish was diamonds.
Fernando would scour the world looking for the rarest of diamonds to enhance his already consummate collection. Dutch was aware that Fernando would be away on business the night he was to break into his villa. The estate was heavily guarded, but that wouldn’t stop Dutch from getting inside. He attached a silencer to his nine and pulled a mask over his face. He wanted to make the heist clean, with as little complication as possible. The back of any perimeter was always just as protected as the front, if not more so. But Dutch knew better than to walk straight through the front door. Two armed guards stood at the entrance gate talking in their native tongue. Talking made the time go by faster and brought them laughter and excitement. Unfortunately for them, tonight was the wrong night for them to be looking for excitement, because it had already showed up in its worst form: Dutch.
“Oye, tú viste eso?” asked one of the guards, pointing to some bushes near the side gate. He could have sworn he had seen something moving.
“No, yo no vi nada,” responded the other guard, figuring his partner could handle it. “Vengo ahora, tengo que usar el baño,” he added, thinking it was nothing, before he walked away from his post to take a leak.
The other guard loosened his gun in its holster, his hand gently resting on the barrel, just in case he needed quick access to his pistol. He walked closer to the bushes, making sure the coast was clear. He never noticed Dutch lying flat on the ground with his gun pointed upward, silently waiting for the guard to fall into his trap. His eyes were somewhere else until he was right on top of Dutch. And then it was too late. The guard quickly pulled his weapon out of the holster, but never had a chance to aim. Dutch had already fired the first shot as soon as the guard looked his way. The bullet pierced his forehead, blowing out the back of the guard’s skull. He was dead before his body hit the ground. Quickly, Dutch stripped him of his uniform so he could give himself the advantage. Now, he looked just like one of them.
“Adónde tú estabas que duraste tanto?” asked the guard, zippering up his pants, as he realized who he thought was his partner wasn’t. He quickly tried to reach for his gun, but Dutch was too quick.
“English, motherfucker, English,” Dutch said, raising his pistol without warning and letting off twice in the guard’s face as he walked by him.
There were other guards on the sides o
f the house, a few more located in the rear. It didn’t matter, though, as the guards had been ordered not to leave their posts and never did unless told to. Dutch quickly hid the bodies of the two dead security guards in the bushes.
Dutch now had his way in and his way out. He walked up to the front door and shot out the lock, causing the Spanish pueblo doors to stand ajar. Just as he had wanted to, Dutch walked right through the front doors. A huge Swarovski crystal chandelier hung in the foyer, as did the beginning of an assortment of rare and expensive paintings from all over the world, by artists such as Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning. There was a double spiral staircase. Dutch had been told to take the left side to the upstairs floor and find the third door on the left of the hall, which was Fernando’s office. It was there that Fernando kept the jewels locked safely away. Dutch ran up the staircase and walked down the hall looking for Fernando’s office. He opened the third door on the left, and sure enough it was the office. Dutch hurried inside, closing the door behind him. He knew he didn’t have much time. He had to find the jewels and escape undetected, if possible.
Dutch began looking around. The drawers of a mahogany desk were locked, causing Dutch to believe that what he was looking for was in one of them. He took out his military-style knife and popped the lock on the top drawer. He looked through the drawer only to find dictation tapes, Post-its and other office supplies.
“Can I help you find something?”
Dutch heard the woman’s voice as he was popping the lock on another drawer. He looked up at her as he reached for his gun. She had to be the most beautiful woman Dutch had ever seen in his life. He wondered what man would dare to touch her. She wore a long black silk night slip that hugged every curve on her perfectly voluptuous body. She had golden skin with long, flowing black hair and piercing grayish-blue eyes.
Dutch had been all over the world and had slept with women who would make Tiger Woods jealous, but he had never run across such a striking figure until now.
What is she doing? He knew he had to be extra careful. Heedlessness might cost him his life.
“You don’t need your gun. I’m only here to help you,” she said, in her Colombian accent, looking like an exact replica of Penelope Cruz.
“It would be foolish of me to believe you, don’t you think?” Dutch asked as he pointed his gun at her.
“It would be foolish of you to rummage through desk drawers looking for something that’s not there when there are other security guards roaming the property, don’t you think?” she asked sarcastically, sipping a glass of Domaine Ott as they both looked out the window at one of the security guards standing at his post.
“How do you know I’m looking for something?” he asked her, intrigued and puzzled at the same time.
“Why else would you be here… um… let’s see, money or maybe . . .” she smiled, leaning toward him, then she whispered, “maybe… diamonds.”
Dutch gave her a puzzled look. “You want to play games and I got shit to do, lady,” he said, no longer seeing her as a threat, but still not understanding her position.
She smiled at him before she spoke.
“And I figured that and I’m here to help you. I did say that before, didn’t I? Why are you still pointing that gun at me?”
“Stop!”
“What?” she asked, freezing in her tracks and looking around the room, as if something big was about to happen.
“Oh, never mind,” Dutch said, tired of her beauty, tired of her questions, and tired of playing her games in the middle of his jewelry heist. He lowered his gun.
“Gracias.”
She slowly opened the office door, making sure the coast was clear.
“Ven.” She turned to him, using her hand to signal him to follow her, and he did. In the back of his mind, he kept telling himself he was absolutely crazy. He didn’t know what to think. But something told him he wouldn’t find out just by standing there.
She took Dutch by the hand, then walked into an open room, the master bedroom suite.
She walked over to a painting hanging on the wall.
“Do you like this painting?”
“I do, it’s a great piece,” Dutch said as they both stared at the painting hanging on the wall.
“It is a Picasso, an original, worth over twenty million dollars. For the past year my husband could not even sleep until he had his hands on this painting. Let me ask you a question. Do you think this painting is worth more than a human life?” the woman asked.
“It all depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Whose life we’re talking about.”
“Would that painting be worth more to you than me?” she asked him, tears in her eyes, as if he was some mirror, mirror, on the wall who would say what she wanted to hear.
“Not if I loved you,” he said calmly, hoping that was the answer she already knew.
Dutch tucked his gun in waistband and lifted the picture. Behind it an eighteen-by-eighteen safe was implanted neatly in the wall. Dutch raised his eyebrows and looked at the woman.
“I told you I was trying to help you,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Why?”
She put down her glass and worked on the combination to the safe.
Dutch was so confused by the woman’s disposition that he had to question it. “Who are you?”
“I’m Veles Enrique, Fernando’s wife,” she chuckled at him.
“If you’re his wife, why are you helping me?”
“Because . . .” she said, deciding not to confide in him. “You wouldn’t understand,” she snapped as she began to twirl the knob, entering the combination.
“Still, you are his wife, and yet you help me steal hi—”
Before Dutch could say another word, she spun around, facing him, her face telling the story of a woman devastatingly scorned.
“My husband doesn’t love me… he loves someone else… he is with her as we speak.”
She fell silent as a tear rolled down her face. She moved away, composed herself, and turned to him. “All this . . .” she said, holding her arms up, referring to the twenty-thousand-square-foot mansion filled with priceless statues, art, jewels, and furnishings passed down from Fernando’s royal heirs. “This is the most empty place you could imagine being in, and I am a painting on the wall.”
Dutch understood her now. Fernando didn’t love his wife, he simply had the “perfect” wife to complete the picture of “perfect.”
“That is my life, and I must say that a life without love is no life at all,” she said as one tear dropped. She turned and finished entering the combination.
“What you want is in that box,” she said, as if he need not touch anything else.
Dutch reached inside the safe and pulled out the box, believing her. He sat on the bed to evaluate its contents. As he lifted the lid, multiple flares of colorful light escaped from the box. He was captivated as he looked at all the priceless gems. Not only did he now have the clear and canary diamonds he had come there for, he had Fernando’s entire collection. Dutch closed the box and stood.
“It’s time to go now,” he said, holding in his palm what he had come for.
“Yes, I’d say it is, now that you’ve got what you came for,” she said, not realizing he could read her mind.
Dutch heard the sarcasm, but simply ignored her, moving close to her so that he was on top of her as he stood toe to toe with her. So close, he could smell musk and vanilla scents from her perfume. Unable to resist her, he took her in his arms, holding her tightly as he kissed her lips, igniting a wildfire between two souls.
“Maybe you’re what I came for,” he suggested, pulling back from her embrace and looking into her eyes to see where her head was at.
“If I were, you wouldn’t be holding my husband’s diamonds, would you now?” she asked, jealous that he was there for the stones.
“This is circumstance; these aren’t for me,” he said, being perfect
ly clear that she could easily become a kidnap victim. Making that shit happen right now was going through his mind, too. He couldn’t stop looking at her; she was so beautiful he wanted to kiss her on the mouth again, and kissing women was a “never”, for him.
“Thank you,” she said, wishing she was being kidnapped, and sexually seduced as well.
Dutch knew it was time to roll out. He had what he came for, what the hell was he still standing there for? Look, I’m stuck right here. I swear she’s so beautiful I can’t stop looking at her. She’s a fucking painting that you can’t stop looking at. Her beauty had captivated him. He bent to her ear, whispered to her a special secret, and then walked down the hall to the staircase. Once he reached the bottom, he turned. She was standing at the top of the staircase, her eyes pleading for him not to go. He turned and walked out the front double doors he had come in. Still wearing the uniform, he returned a nod at one of the guards who was watching him as he walked toward the gate. Dutch could see Craze sitting in a black Mercedes waiting for him. As soon as Craze started the car, Dutch turned to the guard and waved good-bye, hopping into the passenger seat. Then Craze sped them away.
The next morning, Fernando came home from spending the night with his mistress to find that the guards stationed at the front gate had abandoned their post. What the hell am I paying these people for? Where are they? he wondered, not thinking there was anything wrong. He let himself through the gate and proceeded up a flight of stairs carrying a Louis Vuitton bag in his hand. As he walked into the master suite he dropped his bags and stared around the room, realizing his prize possessions were no longer there. His wife was sprawled across their bed, her body lying still next to an empty bottle of sleeping pills. He looked over at the wall. His Picasso painting was lying on the floor and his safe was opened. He ran over to it. His heart sank as he looked inside. His box of priceless gems was gone. He actually began to cry as he realized he had been robbed of the precious jewels. He sank into a chair near the king-sized bed and looked at Veles, her body still warm.
