Ice Woman Assignment (6 page)

Morgan saw teenage admiration in his eyes. Anaconda
turned her back on her guests and guards, locking eyes with the boy. She swayed slightly, setting her hair into a smooth wave motion. The boy sat transfixed.

“Tell me, Frederico,” Anaconda said slowly. “Tell me, will these two bring me pain, or loss?”

The boy stared for a moment, and then began shivering. Tremors wracked his body, as if a giant invisible fist had wrapped around his form and shook him.

Felicity felt a chill at the bottom of her stomach. Scanning faces, she saw that ancient fears gripped every person in the room, even Morgan. Their eyes reflected folklore and legends from three continents. Witches, shamans, witch doctors, the stories are all the same. The air thickened, making the watchers strain for breath. Then, before he spoke, the boy looked at Felicity.

She felt as if her soul were laid bare for his inspection. His captive look triggered something within her and she reached out to him, not with hatred or fear, but with pity. She saw he did not control his own destiny, and she knew how very tragic slavery could be. Then the boy's teeth clacked. He got control of it, speaking at last.

“Mistress, you are in no danger from them,” he said in Spanish. “The serpent will fly high. The Hawk and the Puma will fall beneath her.” Then Anaconda had his eyes again. His tremors gradually eased, then stopped. He breathed deeply and sweat burst out on his body.

“Impressive,” Morgan said. “Can you tell me what's in my pockets too?”

“You bore me,” Anaconda told Morgan. Then she returned to her chair behind the desk, picked up the telephone and pressed one button. “Garcia. Pull over for a drop.” Then she turned to the man on Morgan's right, “Renaldo. Take him out and hurt him. Break something.”

Air brakes hissed again and the world ground to a halt.
One man opened the rear doors. Another gripped Morgan's shoulder and shoved him out. Three of the big men followed him, leaping to the ground. One of the two remaining men pulled the door closed and flipped the latch, locking it shut. Anaconda pressed the button on the phone again and said “seguir,” and the truck lurched forward again. Felicity felt a shudder run down her spine, but not from the night air that had come in.

When the vehicle reached cruising speed Anaconda moved to stare down into Felicity's eyes. Her face softened, revealing something like empathy.

“You know why I don't kill you right now?” Anaconda asked. “We are two of a kind, you and I. Two women succeeding in a man's world. And of course, because Frederico assures me you are harmless. And he is never wrong.” Anaconda walked back to her desk, but while she spoke Felicity watched the boy. Ignored by his Colombian mistress, he never let his gaze wander from Felicity. She finally had to close her eyes to refocus her attention on Anaconda.

“Tell me; is all this hostility just because you're a wee bit of a lass? Are you angry just because you're a shrimp?”

Anaconda whirled, Morgan's boot dagger in her hand, rage flashing from her silver eyes. She stepped deliberately toward Felicity, the knife held in front of her. The two guards moved aside allowing her plenty of room. Frederico scampered back into his corner. When Anaconda stopped, she held the knife less than two inches from Felicity's nose.

“You think you are better because you are tall?” Anaconda all but shouted, shivering with contained rage. “You could not survive what I have. Have you ever been raped by a man half again your size? Or been given as a sexual gift to seal a business deal, just because some men like young girls?”

Felicity spoke carefully in soothing tones. “I'm sure your
life has been hard. But you've done much more than survive. You're in charge here. I can't even imagine how you reached the top of this organization, in a business that is so, well, male dominated.”

“No secret there, chica,” Anaconda said, sliding the blade softly against Felicity's cheek. “I left my native country early, with a man who liked what I had to offer. He took me to Cuba. There I learned from the experts, some of Fidel's closest men. I learned how to use my differences to influence the small minded. How easy it was, being female, to turn one man against another.”

Felicity was fighting not to move when the cold steel touched her skin. “If the communists trained you, I'm surprised you didn't stay with them.”

“Oh they wanted me,” Anaconda said, sliding the side of the blade down Felicity's neck. Felicity shivered, and sweat broke out on her face. “I returned to my own country because I knew I had talents the Escorpionistas could use.”

“Talents?”

“Let's say gifts,” Anaconda said, moving the knife so the point rested half an inch from Felicity's right eye. “I have a gift for organization. And I knew I had qualities that could be used to control these primitives. My racial purity. My eyes. These two brothers I found who can see what others can't. You see, I am a priestess in a religion you know nothing about. And I've created a very profitable international trade for the Escorpionistas.”

Felicity thought that that little speech implied Colombians were superstitious and easily manipulated by ancient symbolism. She considered how much contempt Anaconda must have for her own people. Felicity hoped Anaconda felt the same way toward Morgan and her. Perhaps appealing to her ego might get Felicity out of this with a whole skin.

“All right,” she said. “I get it. You're too much for us.
How about I admit it and you tell your friends to bring Morgan back in and just send us home?” She smiled in what she hoped was a humble way.

“Maybe you got something there,” Anaconda said. “As you can't harm me, you are of no importance. And that would send a message to your CIA. Yes, maybe I should just let you go. However, you have been an inconvenience. Maybe you should carry something away from our meeting, eh? Something to make you remember your meeting with Anaconda, the most influential woman in this hemisphere.”

There was no warning, except that Felicity's senses went crazy. Anaconda slid the knife downward until it hung three inches below Felicity's collarbone. Felicity involuntarily bared her teeth. Then Anaconda quickly slashed down. The razor edge of the blade slid effortlessly through Felicity's flesh, but cutting no deeper than her skin. Because Morgan kept his knife so sharp, a second or two passed before the pain hit like the touch of a red hot brand. Felicity sucked in a breath, biting back a scream. A diagonal red line appeared on Felicity's left breast, ending just before her nipple.

“Now your perfect body is not so perfect,” Anaconda said. “Now you can learn to live with a physical flaw, as I have. Rico, take this bitch home.”

It was a big Chevy, gold with red interior, model unknown. Cigarette smoke had filtered so deeply into the upholstery that Felicity could smell it now, even though no one was smoking. She leaned against the passenger side door, as they bounced down the street on nearly useless shock absorbers. Rico drove, with one friend in the back seat.

Felicity had perfected her cowering female act over the years but never before had she been able to base it on such a solid platform of truth. She was scarred, cut by a vicious person for no good reason. Hatred and self-doubt battled for dominance within her, but she maintained the haunted eyes and slumping body language she hoped would keep her captors at ease. She just wanted to be home, safe.

Why did she get involved in this anyway? She was no policeman or spy. Not so long ago, those people had been looking for her. She should have let them flounder in the same ignorance and incompetence that had worked to her advantage all those years. Instead, she had offended a major criminal for no personal gain. Anaconda had proven as deadly as her namesake, and she was backed by a huge and shadowy organization whose members showed absolute devotion. Felicity wondered what had made her think she could defy them.

Then Rico, looking straight ahead, reached over and stroked her knee. She shivered and said “No.” He did not seem to notice. They turned a corner, and he reached again,
rubbing her thigh.

“She said to take me home,” Felicity said. “Please, just take me home.”

“She didn't say we couldn't have some fun first,” Rico said. “It don't have to be bad, you know. I know a nice place we can stop for a little while.” The man in the back seat chuckled. Felicity looked out at the slow but steady traffic. She could see that Rico was avoiding the freeway. She hated to think he made that choice just so he wouldn't have to pay much attention to his driving. Anaconda intimidated her but close up, these clowns did not.

“You're not going to do this,” Felicity said.

“And why not, girl?” Rico asked. His hand slid painfully across her exposed breast, down her thigh, to land beside her knee on the seat.

Felicity startled the back seat rider when she reached up to her hair, useless handcuffs dangling from her left wrist. She yanked the long silver pin from her hair, letting the comb fall out.

“This is my stop, you bastard,” Felicity said, stabbing down into the back of Rico's hand and pinning it to the seat. He screamed and swerved, driving the Chevy's left front fender into the driver's door of an oncoming car. Before the car was completely stopped, Felicity jumped out, running at top speed across the street. She dodged oncoming vehicles like a matador, silhouetted by rushing headlights. Horns blared, brakes squealed and above it all, Rico shouted obscenities in Spanish.

Felicity ran down the block, trying each parked car as she went. The seventh car, an aging red Chevy Impala, was unlocked. She ducked inside and reached under the dashboard. Twenty seconds later, the engine roared to life. Felicity glanced at the corner street sign, noting where she got the car from, and then pulled into traffic.

The sedan, an automatic with the stick shift on the floor,
was nothing like her usual choice of rides but right then it felt like luxury and the snarl of the V8 engine gave her comfort. She knew no one was following her, but Felicity drove an evasive course anyway, making last-second turns and timing her approaches to corners to slide under orange lights just before they turned red. Watching for street signs she soon figured out she was in the Pomona area. In short order she was able to find Interstate 10. From there getting home would be easy, just point west until she hit the coast. Just the thought of being in her own apartment made her feel better.

She rolled her window down to clear her head. Cool night air raised gooseflesh on her left arm, but she stubbornly left the window open, fighting to bring her breathing rate down to normal.

Thirty minutes later, Felicity coasted to a stop in front of her building. Her perfect time sense told her it was ten minutes past one. Tim, tonight's security man, would be sitting at a console inside, watching closed circuit video screens. She knew she would be visible on one of them, but of course Tim wouldn't recognize the car. She blew the horn six times before he went to the door and looked outside. While he stared at the strange vehicle, she pushed her head out the window.

“Tim!” Felicity called. “It's me. Felicity. Bring me your jacket, would you?”

“Miss O'Brien?” Tim, a tall ex-Marine, had a brush cut and a face too small for his head. He stared blankly at her. He had to recognize her voice, but she suddenly remembered he probably could not recognize her face.

“Yes, it's really me, Tim, I'm just kind of in disguise. Now be a dear and please lend me your jacket. My…my dress is torn.

Now he looked sure. Tim stepped out, locking the door behind him, and walked to the car, unbuttoning his uniform
jacket. When he handed it to her through the window she pulled it on quickly but there was no way to avoid offering him a flashing glimpse of her exposed breast. He sucked air in between his teeth as if he had just cut himself. Their eyes met.

“Sorry,” Tim said, embarrassed. “I didn't mean to… you got hurt.”

Felicity leaped from the car and hustled into the building without another word. Tim followed her as far as the elevator. As the doors closed in front of her, she said, “I'll call you in a couple of minutes.”

Upstairs, Felicity made sure her only neighbor was not in the hall, then sprinted past the bird of paradise plants in the center garden and punched the buttons to open her door's cipher lock. Inside, she ran down the hall to her bedroom. Once there she dropped the jacket to the carpet. In her full length mirror she stared at her new injury. The thin line of blood had become a long, narrow scab. She stared at herself in shock and horror, letting tears flow freely down her cheeks, onto her damaged breast.

She leaned over her dresser to drop the contact lenses out of her eyes. Only one fell. Amidst the tension and chaos she had not noticed that the left lens was missing. It must have flown when Anaconda slapped her. She shed her tattered clothing and wrapped herself in a big white terrycloth bathrobe. She felt an overwhelming drive to wash the color out of her hair and off her skin. Was this how a rape victim felt, this need to be clean? The desire to shower and shampoo, to get back to her own look, was strong but she knew she had more important matters to attend to first.

Morgan.

Perched on the sofa's edge, Felicity pushed buttons on her cordless telephone. After three rings a familiar voice said hello.

“This is Conrad, right?”

“Who's this?” the voice asked, too carefully.

“It's O'Brien. Listen, have you heard from Morgan?”

“I don't think I know any…” Conrad began.

“Look, don't give me any of your silly spy malarkey. Morgan's been taken by those Chicanos and he might be hurt, or worse.”

“I'm sorry,” Conrad said. “You must have the wrong number.” Felicity heard a click, then silence, then a dial tone.

“Arsehole!” She screamed into space, and then dialed again. Her photographic memory kept her from having to look up any number she had ever dialed. This time she called Chuck Barton's hotel room but got no answer. He must have already left for Corpus Christi. Damn. Next she dialed a number in Panama. She waited impatiently through long distance clicks, until she heard the remote ringing sound.