1 The Assassins' Village (6 page)

‘Okay. I’ll see you later then. Don’t sit around and brood. Go for that walk. It’ll do you good. Or plan a shopping trip to Nicosia for next week. You could treat yourself to something nice.’

‘You know I hate shopping,’ Sonja grimaced at the thought.

‘Yes, you do. Well I’ll be off then.’

Alicia walked through to the dining room and Sonja let her out. The intense heat from the sun bounced off the thick stonewalls surrounding them. Alicia turned and made her way carefully down the hill. Sonja watched her go. She cut a strange figure. Tall and thin, she almost always dressed in a white shirt and outlandish rust coloured knickerbockers that contrasted wildly with her vivid red hair. An ancient, tattered leather bag she used for gathering herbs hung from her shoulder.

Sonja turned away, relieved to be alone once more. As she crossed back into the dim recess of the house, she fleetingly wondered why Alicia had appeared at her house that morning. She had been so completely upset over the morning's events; she had forgotten to ask her.

Not that she had stayed very long.

Chapter 6. Sunday morning

Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires.

Macbeth. Act 1 Scene 4

Tony chewed on his thumbnail, working hard at the reddened skin around its edges. He was completely pissed-off this morning. He could not get the ending right and it was beginning to depress him. Despite what he had told Ann and Diana the other night, this latest play of his was proving to be a bit of a bummer. The idea was good, and the parts he had already written in for the main characters read extremely well. They were interesting and believable, with just about the right sprinkling of odd little quirks thrown in to catch the audience unawares. It seemed to flow in the beginning; Bernard had said so when he read through the first act. It was only now, with the ending looming, the final act was proving to come across as a real hammy read. Tony shoved the papers in front of him to the back of his desk in disgust. Tony gave a groan and picked up his almost empty cigarette packet.

Selecting one, he lit the cigarette from the smouldering butt in his overflowing ashtray. Tony knew he would have to rewrite the last half of the final act. Unfortunately, now was not the right time.

He wasn’t sure if it was Leslie who had once again distressed him and was the cause for his writing failure, or whether he had overestimated his literary talent with this bold attempt. It was far more ambitious than anything he had written previously.

Tony took a quick gulp from the glass of cheap whisky standing on the desk in front of him and belched after the raw spirit slid down his throat. Drawing deeply on his cigarette, and not noticing the ash that spilled over his grubby shirt, Tony returned his attention to the sheets of paper and cursed yet again as he reread what he had written. Taking a heavy black pencil he drew a line underneath all the changes he would have to make, and scored through at least a third of the remainder. Shit! More than a whole weeks work wasted. He crushed the offending words of the page in front of him into a tight ball and tossed it bad-temperedly into the waste-paper bin. If he was not careful it would all become a full psychological block on his writing. A trickle of fear went through him. He knew only too well because it had happened before.

It was only once, and about a year ago. Tony gave a wet fart at the memory. It had been a most shocking and terrifying experience. Not just the virtual shutdown to his writing, but the reason behind it. With bitter regret, he had paid up with money he could ill afford and thought he had heard the last of the threats. But no, once again the nasty insinuating note appeared on his doormat and he had been panicked into a cold sweat. Tony naively had assumed the problem was resolved; but he should have known better where blackmail was concerned. Now, there was the niggling danger that someone else would soon know about his little secret. Why? Who else could possibly benefit from this?

Perhaps, he kept telling himself he was imagining it. Was he being melodramatic and over reacting? He had a sudden dull ache in his chest. Absent-mindedly he rubbed at it, indigestion again. He knew that cigarettes and cheap booze didn’t help; and he really should have a proper diet. He gave another belch. But one thing at a time though, he needed to resolve
this
major headache first.

If he could only lose himself in his work, then the words would flow and the final act would all come together. Fidgeting, Tony opened a drawer to his desk and turned the contents over, searching for fresh paper. He felt a sudden prick to his thumb and wincing, he hastily withdrew it. To his surprise he found a neat slit in the skin. Tony watched as the blood welled and dripped down onto the floor; a few drops spilling onto his already grubby shirt. Swearing, he grabbed a handful of tissues from a nearby box and pressed hard to staunch the flow. ‘What in the world?’ he thought. Carefully, with his uninjured hand he slowly sifted through the papers until he found the offending item. He’d forgotten the handsomely crafted, eight-inch hunting knife that he’d stashed at the back of the drawer some weeks ago. As Tony removed it, and weighed it in his hand a thought came to him.
He was looking at the perfect assassin’s weapon.

Still feeling irritated, and with his unsettled stomach really beginning to annoy him, Tony pushed back his chair and stood up. He grabbed his lighter and reached for another cigarette from his opened packet. Tony lit up and inhaled deeply, the nicotine flooding into his lungs and bloodstream. This simple familiar action helped calm him down. He crossed over from the shady landing where he was working onto the balcony outside.

It was sizzling hot and the wooden railings had taken on a smell of cooked pine. The paint had blistered and peeled on the balcony and the slatted, wooden shutters were in no better condition. Very soon he’d have to renovate the lot before the sun destroyed them totally.

Taking another deep drag, Tony exhaled as he gazed moodily over the panorama spread before him.  Be cool. Stay calm; his inner voice spoke to him. All of it would blow over soon and everything could return to normality. He watched a small lizard scuttle across a neighbouring wall and disappear into a shady crevice.

There was of course, the final solution.

But as he well knew, he was a coward at heart and he did not know if he could go through with it. Oh, he had thought about it, long and deeply, all the pros and cons, and what ifs. Tony was nearly at the end of his tether. Bastard! Bastard Leslie. Maybe he
should
do it. He deserved it the little shit! And the way he felt right now, well, he certainly wouldn’t feel guilty. He could almost justify it.

But if he did do it and it all backfired in his face what then? He enjoyed living in Cyprus. He got on really well with some of the locals in the village. He particularly liked a lazy evening spent in one of the cafes playing a game of backgammon with a friend or two. His Cypriot friends were down to earth and friendly. Tony never had to pretend to be anything else when he was with them.

As he flicked his cigarette butt down over the balcony he espied the familiar figure of Alicia rounding the corner. She must have come from Leslie and Sonja’s, as she didn’t normally venture over to this part of the village. She had her usual scruffy old bag slung over her shoulder, probably full of her so-called herbs. Now there was a scrawny witch if he ever knew one. She was one of the strangest females he had ever met. The only normal thing about her was her unexpected ability to direct plays, and that was completely unforeseen.

Rumour had it, and rumours were always running rife in this village; that she was obsessed with sex. Looking at her, God, who would have thought it? She was probably in her fifties, and he presumed a spinster. Tony was single himself, and at that moment without a partner, but give her one? Forget it! Tony gave a slight shudder. The last thing he would fancy. True, he was younger than she, but even so,
Alicia was decidedly strange. And that included his odd tastes. He was not that desperate yet. Besides, he preferred them much younger.

Whenever he had the cash he would make his way down to Heroes’ Square in Limassol; a square that despite its name was more famous for its nightclubs and girly bars. It was currently known as the best place for the procurement of young girls and Tony adored the sticklike, skinny bodies of the underage ‘ballet dancers’ from Russia or the Ukraine. And that had been his undoing, and leading to his current predicament.

Tony didn’t want Alicia to know he was observing her, so taking a step back he slipped into the cool darkened interior of the doorway. Furtively, he watched as she walked on down the lane and around the bend out of his view. Now why go that way? Tony knew she usually ventured nearer the upper village fields for her seeds and weeds.
That
way was Sonja and Leslie’s usual walk down to the river. Perhaps she had a secret tryst with Leslie. Almost everyone knew they had had a fling some time back. Ha! They were welcome to each other. There again, he would not mind watching. For a brief moment his perverted mind imagined what they would do to each other.

His thoughts flitting around in his head, he couldn’t resist a snigger. No. He couldn’t be bothered with her; he had enough on his mind at that moment. Alicia and her untold baggage of sexual obsessions were definitely not for him.

Tony hoped he would have the courage to carry out what he called the
final solution
to his problem. It was drastic, but an ultimate and fitting conclusion that would enable him to get on with his life. As he fantasized, he felt the now familiar tingle of excitement in his belly as he began to harden. His mouth became dry, and the palms of his hands felt sticky with sweat. His breathing quickened and he pushed his greasy, lank hair out of his shining eyes with a shaky hand.

Once again, the thought of it brought the recognizable tightness in his groin. Hurriedly he re-entered the house, stuffing his cigarettes and lighter into his pocket. He was sweating rather badly now.

Tony hovered over the threshold of his bedroom. The slovenliness was all around him. Strewn clothes, opened drawers, empty cigarette packets, rubbish in every available space. None of this he noticed or cared about. Should he take a break and watch one of his little “specials” from the cardboard box under his bed? If he relieved himself it would relax him. Or maybe he should try and calm down, take a walk - everyone else seemed to be doing so this hot morning? Tony thought once again about Leslie and Alicia. Was she going to meet him?

A sudden wind blew in from across the valley; it skittered up the lane onto Tony’s balcony sending his loose papers flying and slamming his bedroom door.

Tony knew he was right; Alicia was in the true sense weird, possessing a different way of looking at things and fixing them. Conventional people lived and acted out their lives within a normal structure. Alicia did what she wanted and it was often hard to ignore her.

A pet hate of Tony’s, were the dozens of stray cats that congregated in Alicia’s malodorous courtyard and balconies. Tony was convinced she was a witch. They had had one or two lively rows when he truly thought she bordered on the insane. Alicia’s refusal to have the cats neutered, saying their numbers helped rid the village of snakes and vermin, drove Tony mad.

Perhaps, he mused, it was something to do with her religious cult that was run almost entirely by women for women. After another bitter skirmish with her, he scanned the Internet hoping for some insight into her organisation but he came up with little information. One thing he did glean; once a member always a member. Originally, Tony thought he could draw her out with some hints with regard to writing a play around it but she had only hissed her denial to letting him into any secrets.

But perhaps Tony’s biggest objection to her was her sexual one. Although Tony possessed his own desires towards women of a certain kind, he found Alicia very disconcerting when it came to matters of sex.  To be asked directly, ‘Do you have a full sex life?’ followed with. ‘What do you enjoy doing most?’ He found it outrageous, and yet because in all other respects she was as quiet as a mouse it was also very strange.

It must have been as a result from her living within the cult Tony concluded. A cult for women with one Patriarch residing over them - this much he knew. Some guru with an eye for the girls no doubt and who were meant to have his babies. Then they were sent off to beg in the streets for money. Money that was taken off them, and there they were. Trapped like rats on a sinking ship and so the circle continued. It happened, according to what Tony had read. So where
did
Alicia fit in with all this?

~~~

As Alicia was stepping out on the rough stone track, she was going over and over in her head what Sonja had told her that morning. Recently, Alicia had not liked Leslie one little bit. There were a number of what she called ‘valid reasons’, and lately, he brought out in her a hitherto unknown violent anger that left her smouldering with a deep hatred.

Sonja, his wife, was a friend of sorts. And one could be excused for thinking that she would be offering Sonja help and comfort today. But the reality was nothing like that. She, Alicia would
not
play the hypocrite and offer any more support than the little she had already given. She could not bring herself to tell her what a tragedy it all was. Alicia knew that if Leslie wasn’t around she wouldn’t miss him one little bit, and
Sonja wouldn’t either.
She or they would be better off without him.

Alicia had known Leslie for many years. Their paths had met when Alicia had first arrived in Cyprus after her hurried exodus from the snow-capped Himalayas. Leslie had swiftly become a much-needed friend to the bewildered and lonely woman. At first Alicia had been quite reticent in discussing her private life, but after Leslie had wined, dined and bedded her she had opened her heart to him like a sunflower following the turn of the sun. Over the years, Leslie had practised his seduction techniques to perfection and it was far too late before Alicia realised this.

Her own initial interest in the good looking, trim and outwardly charming painter had begun to change over the last year. She realised and saw him as he truly was. His icy-blue gaze would fall and cut you like a blade and his silver tongue likewise. She now recognised him for the shallow, nasty man he was underneath all that suave veneer. No, she would regret nothing in what she had planned.