by Peter Parkin
Jim waited about a minute and then began his pursuit. Close enough to watch that wiggling ass, but not close enough to alarm her.
He had to be careful. There were four rape convictions against him, a total of twenty years in prison, and no less than eight other attempts to convict him that failed in the justice system due to lack of evidence. His next conviction would probably send him to prison for life. He figured he'd been stupid before—he sincerely believed the girls had enjoyed their experiences with him. So he had no reason to kill them. They told him they enjoyed it. They wouldn't say that if they didn't believe it, would they? No, of course they wouldn't.
Some busybody friends must have convinced them to file charges. Friends who had miserable frigid lives, and were jealous of the joy his targets had experienced with him. He should have just found out who their friends were and killed them. A pre-emptive strike.
Well, he would definitely have to change his modus operandi. He couldn't take a chance on going back to prison. And he sure wasn't going to change who he was. Why should he?
Jim picked up his pace a bit. They were getting real close to an alley that he had scouted out beforehand. She was about thirty yards away from it. The street was deserted. Just the way he liked it. He'd have her naked ass up against a wall in just a matter of minutes.
He was five feet behind her now. He saw her glance to her side, hearing his footsteps he guessed. He reached out and grabbed her blonde locks from behind, yanking her sideways into the alley. She started to scream but he put a stop to that real fast with his other hand. He was strong. She wasn't. In a few seconds she would experience how really strong he was.
Jim rammed her up against the wall and relished the terror in her eyes. He liked to see them scared, but then loved it when they softened up and enjoyed him. He knew they enjoyed it. They wouldn't be able to fake something like that.
He reached under her dress and ripped her panties into shreds, the pieces hanging at her knees. Jim's penis was out through the open zipper of his Levis, and he wielded it in his hand like a weapon. He rammed it forward and up.
Then he heard a scream—but it was his own mouth that was doing the screaming. The zipper seemed to zip up all by itself, catching his erect penis in its teeth. He'd never felt a pain so severe and so instant as this before—and he had been shot twice in his life. Those bullets didn't even come close to inflicting the kind of agony he was feeling right now.
He let go of the blonde and started dancing and hopping, trying desperately to unzip it from his skin. He couldn't. It was impaled on his skin and when he tried to pull it down it only made the pain worse.
As he hopped around he could see a dark figure, with the only sign of light being from cold eyes peering through the holes in a ski mask. The figure wrapped his arm around the blonde, gently ushering her back to the street—and pointed. She ran in the direction of his point. She was gone. Jim's plan for the night was in ruins.
The man moved toward him now. Jim had one hand on his bleeding penis, and the other hand was up now in a 'stop sign' position. "Hey, man! She's gone! She's okay! You can leave me alone!"
The man reached down and gave one more yank on the zipper. Jim screamed in agony, but only briefly. The sound from his mouth was silenced instantly by a forefinger that jabbed right through his throat. Right through his 'Adam's Apple.'
Jim gasped. That was the only sound that was possible. And it sounded to him more like a rasp. His throat was soaked with blood and he knew he was in trouble. He raised his hands in defense but it was a pathetically hopeless gesture.
The man in black stood in front of him now, feet wide apart, arms poised. Both of his hands now moved quickly in unison, pounding Jim in the head and the chest at least five times in a matter of seconds.
He flew back against the wall and promptly sunk to the ground. Each of the impact areas felt like bullet holes.
Jim knew what bullet holes felt like.
He looked up and saw his attacker walking calmly back out to the street. Jim knew his power was waning. He'd never love again. He just knew it.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Dennis was on the phone. First with Melissa, during which she confirmed that she and Sydney Fox were heading to Maryland to inspect the cabin next Thursday. He then phoned Fiona and asked her to take that day off work. Fiona would ride with him in his car. The plan was that they would be there before Mel and the lawyer, waiting inside.
Then he phoned Barb. She was more than anxious to accompany him. "Denny, a day in the country with you would be wonderful, only made more wonderful by this mystery!" Dennis chuckled—he loved her style.
Barb decided she would drive up separately as she had some other business to attend to early that morning. They agreed they would meet at the cabin at 5:00 p.m. next Thursday. Mel and Sydney were due to arrive no earlier than 6:00 p.m.
When they arrived, they would stash their cars around the block in front of some other cottages on Chesapeake Bay. Then make the walk to the cabin, which would only be about 200 feet away from where they would park. He gave Barb a complete description of the cabin, landmarks like the old oak tree in front of the property that had a trunk shaped like a scythe. Unmistakable. She'd have no problem identifying the cabin based on just that alone. And, as Dennis pointed out, it would probably be the most rundown cabin on the cliff.
It was actually a large building, with four bedrooms upstairs, three bathrooms, large dining room, country kitchen, and a monstrous living room. So, while he and Mel referred to it as a cabin, it was in reality a house. Just a poorly maintained house.
There would be a lot of places in the house for them to hide when Sydney started his inspection. Dennis guessed that the main floor would have more secretive places for something like a package, so he, Fiona and Barb would hide on the second floor and get ready to sneak down the stairs when Sydney made his appearance. Sydney probably knew exactly where the package was, so they wouldn't waste time when he arrived. They would head down the stairs once they heard the rummaging.
In about ten days' time Dennis hoped and prayed that they would finally have some answers to what this package thing was all about. His mother's wish would come true, albeit too late to save her life.
*****
"Bill, you'll have to be patient. I know some things, but not enough yet to finish the job properly."
Brett's friend, Bill Charlton, from the Department of Defense was on the phone, looking for an update. Brett knew he just had to buy time, and he wasn't about to disclose any of what he knew so far. He knew that wouldn't be safe—for him or the others.
"Well, Brett, old buddy—maybe I can help you out a bit. We've received word that your boy, Dennis Chambers, is on his way up to Chesapeake Bay, Maryland, next Thursday. I don't know who else is going with him. Apparently, Lucy Chambers owned a cabin up there, and it's been held in a blind trust for years. We couldn't spot it with a standard asset search— because the records just show that it was sold about thirty-five years ago, around the time she retired from the Pentagon. It was sold all right, right into a blind trust that Lucy owned 100% of. Sneaky old broad, eh?"
"Yes, she was. How do you know about this visit to Maryland, Bill? You been holding out on me?"
"Brett, Brett—you know full well we can never rely on just one person for any assignment. Even for assassinations, there's always a backup."
"Okay, so you have a snoop."
"Hey, with technology these days we really don't need a human being anymore for most of what we learn, you know that."
"True enough."
"I'll email you the specifics: where the cabin is, the time Chambers is supposed to be there. You be there too."
"I will."
There was silence at the other end. Brett waited—he knew something else was coming.
"Brett, have you been sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong?" Brett felt his throat go dry. "What do you mean, Bill? As an investigator, my nose is always where it doesn't belong."
&nbs
p; "You know what I mean."
"No, I don't. And I resent the inference. I never accept boundaries when I take on an assignment, and you didn't specify any to me when you gave me this job. If you had, I would have refused."
"Okay, okay. Settle down—just asking."
Brett sighed. "Bill, don't ever ask me a question like that again. I don't have the patience for being doubted."
*****
Brett was toiling away on the computer once again. He knew Bill was on to him now. He wouldn't have asked that question if he didn't have some suspicions. Except that all Bill could possibly know was that Brett had been browsing the Internet for information. And Bill knew Brett well enough that it shouldn't have come as a surprise to know that he had been digging.
He didn't think Bill could have clued in yet about Randy hacking into the Pentagon or CDC databases. That would be impossible to trace back to him or Randy. It would instead lead right to Tel Aviv, and when the Israelis denied as they always did about everything, the Pentagon would still think it was the Israelis.
So, Brett figured they must have a trace on his own computer at home. They must have seen the surfing he had done pertaining to 'Shackleton' and the moon missions. But, if that's all they knew, it was harmless. He was puzzled however by Bill's volunteering the comment, "don't know who else is going with him." Why would Bill have said that? It's almost as if he did know who Dennis was going with and was going out of his way to convince Brett that he didn't know.
Today, Brett was sitting in an Internet café. He wasn't going to take any chances at getting caught surfing for information surrounding what Randy had given him. That would betray the Israeli cover they had set up.
What bothered Brett the most was how Bill had been able to find out about Dennis' upcoming trip to Maryland. Brett was well aware there were 'doubles' with every major assignment. But he hadn't given much thought to that with this assignment—until just recently. At first it had seemed pretty simple—he and Felicity would work together to get the information. It didn't seem that difficult or all that serious.
But in light of what he had found out since embarking on this assignment, it did occur to him in the last few days that there probably was a 'double.' It was that serious. But who was it? He had to be on his guard more than ever now. Or, it was indeed possible that Bill found out about Dennis' planned trip to the cabin just from monitoring phones or the Internet. It was impossible to know, so Brett had to err on the side of caution.
The Internet café computer was a lot slower than his IBM at home, but at least it was safe. He strummed his fingers on the desk waiting for the machine to display the browser. It seemed to be taking forever.
Ahh...finally. Brett wanted desperately to find out where this microbiology lab was located. All he knew from what Randy had told him was that it was referred to as 'Snow Lady.' He entered those words into the search bar. Up popped all sorts of articles pertaining to strippers, hookers, and models.
He switched it around, entering 'Lady Snow.' This time nothing but articles about royalty.
Brett downed the rest of his cold coffee and wandered over to the machine for a refill. Returning to his desk, he took a nice long sip. He could feel the caffeine having an instant effect on him.
Time to try again—he had all day if he needed it. He typed: "Lady of Snow.' Reams of articles popped up, but his scanning eyes stopped on one. The item referenced 'Our Lady of the Snows.' He clicked on it.
The Island of Nevis in the Caribbean.
Brett felt his heart begin to pound as he read. Nevis was the sister island of St. Kitts, located in the Leeward Islands of the West Indies. Located close to the U.S. owned island of Puerto Rico, Nevis was separated from its sister island by only a two-mile channel known as "The Narrows." The island was famous for being a getaway for the rich and famous, including the late Princess Diana.
The name 'Nevis' was derived from the Spanish phrase, 'Nuestra Senora de las Nieves,' which, translated, meant 'Our Lady of the Snows.' Even though the residents of Nevis, past and present, had never seen snow, it was named this by the Spanish in the 16th Century. Apparently the constant appearance of a cloud over the mountain known as Nevis Peak in the center of the island reminded someone of a miracle snowfall that was recorded to have occurred on Esquiline Hill in Rome back in the 4th Century. This was heralded as just one more of countless Catholic miracles and was astounding for the mere fact that the warm Italian climate could not support snowfall. Seeing the cloud over Nevis was reminiscent of the miracle snow in a climate where it didn't belong.
Brett continued to search for more information about Nevis. He was excited now.
He got even more excited by what he read next.
He remembered Randy's reference to monkeys being tested at the lab in addition to chimpanzees. Those other monkeys were nicknamed 'Greenies.' Nevis and St. Kitts both had very high and out-of-control populations of African Green Monkeys, otherwise known as Vervet Monkeys. There were tens of thousands of these little green monkeys, vastly outnumbering the human populations of both islands.
Brett cracked his knuckles and took another long sip of his strong coffee. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. So far, he had found the 'Snow Lady' connection and it connected to Nevis. And so did the 'Greenies' reference. He kept surfing.
He read about how the government of St. Kitts and Nevis had been struggling for years to control the Vervet Monkey population, which were plaguing farmers. Crop destruction had been widespread and for a country that had been trying desperately to be self-sufficient, these little monkeys had become a dangerous threat to the fragile economy.
The country even had a 'Monkey Task Force,' charged with finding ways to eliminate the little buggers, humanely or otherwise. Their motto was: 'The only good monkey is a dead monkey.' The government even offered its citizens twenty dollars a head as a monkey bounty, and some of these unfortunate murder victims ended up in the kitchens of some of the finest restaurants on the island.
Spaying and neutering programs as alternatives to killing them outright had been undertaken on the islands as well. There were even attempts to export them to whichever countries would take them for purposes of scientific research or zoo display. There hadn't been too many takers, due to the concern of introducing a non-indigenous animal to foreign environments. All zoos ran that risk of course, but the animals in most zoos had been born in those countries, and most animals also didn't have the disturbing reputation of anti-social behavior like the Vervets did.
One of the most prominent complaints showing up in the articles came from affluent homeowners and condominium investors. There were so many monkeys on Nevis that new developments inevitably encroached upon the habitats of the green little beasts. Cute at first, but inevitably very dangerous. Brett saw a reference to one development in particular, and he made a note to check on that one later—a place called 'Paradise Villas.'
Hello? What's this?
An American-run laboratory was located on Nevis!
And it was a monkey lab!
Known as the 'Behavioral Modification Foundation,' it was situated in the lush jungles inland from the beaches and about halfway towards Nevis Peak in the center of the island. The article reported that this lab had been operated by U.S. interests on Nevis for several decades.
That timeline fit nicely.
The existence of this lab on Nevis had created a whole new industry: Monkey Trapping. The lab paid trappers to bring them monkeys, after which they were reportedly either exported or experimented with.
The experiments were apparently done for pharmaceutical and biotech corporations. Some experiments were referred to in the article: pumping them full of PCP, alcohol, and chemicals to observe the creation of Parkinson's disease; drilling into their brains to implant human tissue and stem cells; cutting off limbs to practice microsurgery; and the deliberate sacrificing of their little lives to cure a vast array of human disorders.
Without a doubt, th
is was the island that Randy had detected in his hacking. This was 'Snow Lady.' This was the island that had 'Greenies,' Chimpanzees, and a laboratory run by the United States of America. This was where the microbiology experiments were being performed with the organisms and creepy crawlers collected from the moon. Brett had no doubts now.
He went back to his notes. 'Paradise Villas.' He searched this—hundreds of articles popped up pertaining to condominium and hotel complexes from every corner of the globe.
But there was only one article he was interested in. It just jumped out and seemed to scream at him.
Brett read:
"Nevis Luxury Condo Development a White Elephant
There were great expectations when international developer 'Paradise Luxury Living Corp.' came to the island of Nevis with a proposal. A proposal that would set a new standard of luxury on the idyllic island.
A complex situated on one of Nevis' prettiest stretches of beaches, with every high-end luxury imaginable including private pools for each of the forty-six villas, became a reality within two years of breaking ground.
The average selling price for the villas was 1.2 million dollars, with most of the buyers being from the United States and Great Britain. But elation of home ownership quickly turned to horror, when a 'troop' of Vervet Monkeys rampaged the complex two months ago. Information is now slowly leaking to the media from owners who abandoned their units, vowing never to return to Nevis.
It was a celebration night. The developer was hosting a party for the new owners in a central area of the complex. Music was playing, drinks and food were flowing, when suddenly a 'troop' of monkeys descended on the festivities.
Monkeys are frequent pests on the island but rarely are they violent. That night they were.
Twelve owners were killed—literally ripped apart, with their remains dragged into the jungle. As this was happening, the remainder of the 'troop' began pelting the partygoers with rocks, chasing them back to the safety of their villas.
