by I C Cosmos
“I am sorry. Did it hurt?” Omar asked, finishing the bandage.
“No. Not at all. I just…please tell me…who…who…who fell on me?”
Collin and Omar looked at each other. “It was Frank,” Collin said.
“Oh no.” Helen saw the story in their faces.
A heavy explosion shook the market.
Santa Cruz
“Get down!” Collin screamed, pushing Helen to the ground. The team joined them on the floor of the melon stall.
“What’s going on?”
Helen’s phone lit up.
>> Sorry. Couldn’t stop this one. See you put the keys to good use. I knew you could do it. Careful with the virus.
Nic. Helen shook her head.
>> You bet. What’s the explosion about?
>> The Consortium. Got blown to smithereens. A mile down from the market. You are safe.
“Jeez.” Collin jumped up, firing up his phone. Helen walked out of the stall. Frank’s body still lay outside. She texted to Nic.
>> I am so sorry about Frank.
>> So am I. He didn’t deserve this. Take care.
Nobody deserved this. So much misery. Helen scrolled through her contacts and sent a quick message to Phyllis.
>> You are all safe. Attack deflected. Your help made it possible. Thank you. More later. XO Anna
Then she took off her Bolivian shawl and put it over Frank. He was dressed like a local, a woolen scarf covering part of his face. A felt hat rested next to his hand. That’s why I missed him, Helen thought sadly. He blended in perfectly.
Collin came out, thumbing his phone, giving orders to his team. He put a woolen blanket over Helen’s shoulders and crouched down next to her.
“Our people are on the way. We’ll take care of him.”
“What happened?”
“Frank came out of nowhere and pushed Nic to the ground. Saved his life, if you ask me.”
“How did Santini find out about the meeting? We were so careful.” Helen bit her lip as tears filled her eyes.
“Santini’s people followed Frank,” Collin said.
Helen looked at Collin, putting the story together. “So Frank led Santini to Nic and me and then saved our lives?”
“Our guys saved your life. They pushed Santini out of balance.” Collin put his arm around Helen. “It was the worst moment of my life.”
“The melon—” Helen shivered. “Thank you… Oh man, are your guys OK?”
“Yes. But Santini got away. The crowd separated him from our men, and he disappeared.”
“Did he kill Frank?”
“It looks like it.”
“Any idea where Nic went?”
“No. The same story. The crowd pushed him away from our guys.”
“That’s too bad. I’d like to thank Nic in person. He and Vanya really helped us out.”
“Do you love him?” Collin asked.
“Who?”
“Nic.”
“Like a brother.” Helen nodded slowly. “But he is impossible.”
The medics arrived, and Collin led Helen from the stand.
“I have to start working on the virus,” she protested.
“No, you don’t. Just got a text that the satellites’ command is working on it already.”
Helen gasped. “Do they know what they are dealing with?”
“Yes. They have a drill for emergencies like this.”
Helen stopped, incredulous. “So why haven’t they done it earlier?”
“Didn’t believe our warning was real.” Collin shrugged. “The intel from Nic woke up the guys in DC, but it took a while to convince the satellite crew that their orders weren’t coming from the president but from a con man. And when they were finally ready to take action, your cyber shield was already knocking down the Consortium.”
“Well, better late than never,” Helen said, happy that at least some people didn’t fall completely for the scam.
“By the way, they want to put your cyber shield up there as soon as they are done with the cleanup.”
“That can be arranged. Curious how it’s done the proper way.” Helen winked.
Collin steered them toward a bench in a sunny corner of the market.
“Let’s just live,” he said and took Helen’s hand in his.
Their eyes locked, and Helen wished the moment would last forever. Maybe, if… The sun caressed her cheek, Collin smiled, and Helen’s heart fluttered with delight.
Let’s just live.
EPILOGUE
Buenos Aires, Argentina
BA Polo Club
“Good to see you again, sir.” A wide grin broke out across the waiter’s face.
“Good to be here,” Andreas replied, meaning it.
“Crazy world…” The waiter pointed to the newspaper spread on the table.
Andreas shook his head as if he had no words for what the world had come to.
“Well, you’re safe here,” the waiter said with bravado. “Your regular?”
“Yes.” Andreas sat back in his chair. Of course he was safe here. That’s why he came to Buenos Aires. A city that never disappointed him.
Andreas lit up a Cuban cigar and connected to his Transparency Station in DC. The last few days had shaken the world, but Andreas couldn’t have wished for better outcomes. The Project was superbly positioned to enter its next stage, Total Prosperity. The public would love it.
And nobody would love it more than he. Total Prosperity was his for the taking because his Consortium “partners” were all dead. Andreas chuckled and savored his cigar while scanning the latest news reports.
The public demanded answers but received none. No one knew what had happened at the Global Ecological Forum. Speculation gave rise to doom theories. Fake messages about aircrafts falling out of the sky drove the tension sky-high. The nearly exploding pressure cooker united the polarized tribes that had been at each other’s throats for years.
Exactly as Andreas predicted.
The president attacked his usual targets, only pouring oil into the fire. Blaming others wouldn’t let him off the hook this time. The chaos and insecurity whipped the electorate into a fury that swirled around for a few days, fumed and spat in all directions as it gained momentum, and finally sank its deadly claws into the failing commander in chief.
The media scrambled for any insights they could get their hands on, but didn’t have enough facts to explain the Santa Cruz events. The talking heads had jumped like hungry sharks at the few morsels of information Andreas had thrown to them. They argued, yelled, pointed fingers, but couldn’t put the pieces together. Andreas snorted. It was time to give them something to bite on.
This will push them to the tipping point, Andreas concluded and tapped send, betting that it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes before the breaking news banners would hit the screen. In their eagerness to be the first, the media threw away their usual fact-checking procedures. Attributing their stories to “persons familiar with the situation” was good enough.
Which was fine with Andreas, who had spent years cultivating a reputation as a highly respected, trusted source.
He puffed on the cigar, considering his next moves. He was certain that no one noticed his presence in Santa Cruz. No one besides the Consortium members, of course. Given they were on their way to meet their creator, they didn’t count. God rest their souls.
Even if someone had paid attention to him in Bolivia, it was irrelevant because they would have seen a slightly hunched, bespectacled man with longish hair, probably a scientist participating in the forum. And no one would’ve ever connected him to the wealthy tourist whose private jet had left Santa Cruz moments after the explosion. Let alone that the plane’s flight path was untraceable.
Andreas had played the European tourist convincingly, but he had been a man running for his life when he boarded the jet. He sat straight up in his seat during the short flight, enduring the darkness in which the defeat trapped his mind, praying he�
�d make it to the airstrip across the border in Argentina.
He did, and was driven to a small local airport a hundred miles farther, from which he flew to Buenos Aires. Untraceable. The second flight set Andreas free. When the plane reached its cruising altitude, Andreas gazed over the soft clouds and felt he could stretch his hands out the window and reach around the world. His power had no boundaries.
His mind felt bright and clear, his chest open, his lungs breathing in the purest of pure air, the darkness of Santa Cruz defeated. It appeared to him that the failure of the GPS virus wasn’t a failure but a new bright beginning.
He had known Operation Total Power was over before the Consortium members had a chance to comprehend it, because he had pushed the real launch time half an hour ahead of the agreed-upon schedule. His co-conspirators were still high on taking over the world when Andreas realized that his go signal hadn’t reached its destination.
The Russian who was in close contact with Andreas seconds before the launch had vanished into thin air.
Unnoticed, Andreas had stepped behind a dark velvet curtain, slipped out of the “library,” and digitally locked both exits while communicating with the Consortium through an app on his phone.
On automatic pilot, Andreas had switched to plan B. He had stepped into the car waiting for him at the back of the building and, when he was at a safe distance, dispatched the second go signal of the day. The explosion of the building had startled the driver but hadn’t prevented Andreas from boarding his plane and flying off to new beginnings.
Andreas gazed over the polo field, feeling on top of the world. The Santa Cruz failure that felt so unfortunate at first was a mere setback, a learning point that allowed him to cast aside his worthless partners. Unburdened by their greed and fear, Andreas was free to consolidate the Project’s achievements and channel them to his new venture.
He wasn’t thrilled about having to break in a new president, but the events of the last week would make it easier. The new guy would be eager to please the public and give them what they wanted. Andreas would make sure that they got it. On his terms.
He’d install a new Consortium, this time strictly with people who had no hunger for money or power. They’d be experts on the environment, health care, infrastructure, and whatever else the electorate asked for. He wouldn’t chair the meetings himself, wouldn’t even attend them.
No one would know that he was the brain behind and the owner of the operation. He would watch the meetings in the grand library on a remote Transparency Station, making sure that only viable, pliable members stayed on.
Andreas learned his lessons quickly and didn’t make the same mistake twice. Although Operation Total Power wasn’t really a mistake. It was natural evolution. He had relied on the power of the few to bend the will of the many. The glorious response of the crowds after Santa Cruz revealed to him a new way forward.
He would align the power of the many to serve his will. He would galvanize public opinion, energize people to build a different world, to give him what money couldn’t buy…
The first breaking news linking the president to the Santa Cruz events came on. Then a second wave broke through, promising proof that it was the president all along who had misused TP and planned to sabotage the GPS satellites to hijack the electorate.
Andreas smirked. The voice of the people would finish the job for him. As it should be in the most modern democracy on Earth.
Senator Howard would win the presidency in a sweep. Andreas studied his background. The new Consortium appointees must be close to Howard. The chairman—no, the chairwoman—should be a professional dedicated to her cause. A woman trusted by Howard. Andreas scanned Howard’s aides and consultants.
A picture of Perry Lowell and his new wife delighted Andreas. Like a hound on a trail, he followed the scent deeper and deeper, excitement taking over him. What sweet irony!
Andreas signaled the waiter, ready to celebrate. This was the perfect beginning to his new life. He took the lovely crystal from the waiter, swirled the golden liquid, and raised the glass to the new chairwoman of his Total Prosperity Consortium.
Alex Demarchelier.
P.S. Do you want to meet Alex? Go to the next page...
THE WALL
I.C. Cosmos
When trendsetting interior designer Alex Demarchelier marries Jack Carter, she has the perfect life, unaware that she is trapped in the clutches of a predator more terrifying than she could ever imagine.
As it races to its final surprising twist, this gripping thriller takes you on a page-turning journey filled with love, betrayal, and revenge.
Prologue
I bolt upright in my bed, startled. Did I scream? I hold my breath and listen intently. Nothing moves. Protected by darkness, I slowly lean on my pillow and linger in the sweet realization that the nightmare wasn’t real. I am OK.
Then reality hits.
I am not OK. My life is falling apart. Fast.
Looking in from the outside, I am still living my dream. I have a loving husband, wonderful home, thriving business, recognition, prestige. I love my job. It’s not merely a job, it’s my passion. Seemingly I have it all. But I don’t.
I am trapped in the clutches of a predator.
Nothing prepared me for this. Nothing. No warning, no signs telling me ‘run away as fast as you can and never look back.’ Nothing I could see.
Because I never tangoed with evil before.
I had no idea how it grabs you, spins you, trips you, and then blames you for the faux pas. How it hustles you to get back in step. You strain yourself to give it your best, but this is not the tango you know. The rhythm is off, the steps make no sense. You feel ill at ease, want to stop, but can’t. You are trapped by an uncontrollable force that doesn’t let you go. It swirls and twists and turns. When you expect it the least, it throws you high in the air and disappears.
Bewildered, you hope to never dance with it again. But as soon as you’ve regained your balance, it rushes back and tackles you to the ground. It bends over you, you are looking at it but don’t see it. Until its hellish breath scorches you.
Is it too late then?
I shiver. I am familiar with the macabre dance steps now. The pattern was there all along, hidden, invisible to the uninitiated. It plays hide and seek with me. When it’s out of sight, I question its existence. “Do I worry too much?” I ask. “This can’t be so bad…surely it will pass,” I try to calm myself. But I’ve seen the writing on the wall.
The predator is real.
The trespassing is real, the brutal scratches on my new Alfa Romeo Giulia are real, and so are the attacks on me and my marriage. The false accusations are real too. They are not true but have real consequences.
The predator has poisoned my life. The toxins are spreading ferociously, leaving paralysis and devastation in their wake. I am on constant alert, desperately trying to stay ahead.
But the predator is closing in on me. My life is on the line. Time is running out.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” I remind myself. But I have yet to find out how this can make me stronger.
Because right now it’s killing me.
What people are saying about The Wall:
“.. an all nighter. Thoroughly enjoyable characters, sneaky plot twists… Fun, fun, fun.” Amazon Reviewer
"...great characters, quickly paced, and well written. You will enjoy it!!" Goodreads Reviewer
“This book had me turning pages to see what Vivien would do next and she kept surprising me…” Goodreads Reviewer
"Master manipulator's psychological abuse EXPOSED - WOW!!!!" Amazon Reviewer
“A spellbinding story with all the things that keep you entertained…” Goodreads Reviewer
“… this book really has me thrilled!” Amazon Reviewer
“… put a Do Not Disturb sign on your door. Because once you start reading you can’t and don’t want to stop.” Amazon Reviewer
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Acknowledgement
My heartfelt thanks go to:
Steve (GFX-1), for distilling the essence of The Project into the cover.
Robin and Jenn (The Artful Editor), for wielding their editorial pens with great sensitivity and laser-like precision. It goes without saying that any blemishes in the text are solely my responsibility.
Aaron, for sharing with me marketing and advertising strategies.
My readers – knowing that you enjoy my books is a marvelous source of inspiration during the many hours of solitary writing.
And last but not least, C, my husband, wonderful partner, and best friend. Thank you for your continuous faith in my writing and for the sparkling cosmic connection.
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Books By This Author
The Wall
When trendsetting interior designer Alex Demarchelier marries Jack Carter, she has the perfect life, unaware that she is trapped in the clutches of a predator more terrifying than she could ever imagine.
As it races to its final surprising twist, this gripping thriller takes readers on a page-turning journey filled with love, betrayal, and revenge.
