Agent with a History (7 page)

Everything was a power play on this island
realm of my father’s. You were either vicious wolf or hapless
victim. There was no middle ground. All that was respected was
strength. It was a terrible way to have to live and yet I had
managed to until I had turned sixteen.

One night, when things had looked especially
bad for me I had stolen what cash I could find and swam the several
miles distance across the sound in the dark of night to the
mainland. Nearing the beach I had been caught in an undertow
current, which I had barely survived getting out of, but I had. I
had been surviving life’s strong currents ever since.

I saw him then, sitting under the canopy of
an umbrella on a small patio out in the middle of the lawn that lay
behind the house and the beach below. I walked through the
perfectly manicured grass toward him. My father, Iya Muatombo, had
been born in a grass thatched hut made of mud in Ethiopia. You
could say that he had removed himself from the humbleness of his
beginnings as far as one could.

His back was to me and when I was still
twenty or so feet away he stood, the massive muscles of his
shoulders and arms bunching the material of the perfectly tailored
suite.

How he heard my approach over the crashing of
the waves below and the landward breeze I could not fathom. He had
the senses of a cat and the instincts of one too.

My father was a brutal monster, but that was
objectifying him somewhat. He was also cunning. He had not risen so
far on sheer strength alone. Never had I seen the raw magnetism of
strength combined with extreme intellect in a single person before
until just the other day. Flint was such a man. I hoped he wasn’t a
monster too.

My father turned to me with that familiar not
sure what to make of it half smile and revealed a mouth of pearly
white teeth. His skin was as black as coal and he still shaved his
head bare. His conditioning hadn’t slumped a bit and he still stood
at an even seven feet in height. The only way I could tell that he
had aged at all was that his eyebrows were a little greyer.

He was seventy five years old and could have
passed for a man of forty five. What kept him so young, I didn’t
know, but it couldn’t be clean living that was for sure. His deep
voice broke the wall of silent study that was between us.

“So, the prodigal daughter has returned. Is
your unexpected appearance indicative of any intention on your part
to kill me?”

“I could ask the same of you father?” I
replied evenly, standing still in the grass, waiting to see what
would become of me.

He smiled a little broader and indicated the
chair across the table from him and I moved to it and sat down. He
did not follow suit, but instead followed me. I started to rise,
but his hand on my shoulder held me down.

I tried not to let it show how much he had
unsettled me, but I couldn’t help the quiver that rocked through
me, as his hand slipped under my hair and closed around the back of
my neck securely. He lowered his head until my eyes could meet his,
as I tried to hold my breathing steady and not let the fear I felt
show.

This was nothing but another power play, an
effective one at that. I tried to relax under the grip of his hand,
but it was hard.

“Lisa, I could have killed you at any point
over the past two years, since I’ve known of your whereabouts, if I
had so wished to.”

I met his gaze unflinchingly. “Perhaps you
were waiting till you could do it yourself.” I said evenly.

“I have to admit your sharp tongue has been a
pain at times, but killing you would be such a waste!” As he said
it his hand left my neck to slide around and pull my chin up.

His smile disappeared as his thumb stroked
the healing cut on my cheek bone. “Who did this?”

“One of your men!”

“I will see that he is dealt with!” Which
meant killed, I dryly acknowledged in unspoken terms.

“You needn’t bother, he’s already dead.” I
replied.

“Good girl!” He said before stroking my cheek
once more with his thumb before letting go entirely, which I was
grateful for.

He moved to his chair and sat down a little
too heavily. He was getting older. He studied me for a little
while.

“Since we have settled the issue of you not
being here to kill me and I you in return, what is the real reason
for this visit?”

“What’s going on father?”

He looked away out over the ocean and then
back to me, “The same thing that has been going on for thousands of
years, ever since Alexander the Great! The world wants our
treasure!”

“It’s not your treasure! It’s the
peoples!”

His gaze grew stormy and I shook my head
slightly, “How do you expect me to trust you when you say you have
no intention of killing me? You were ready to kill me at sixteen,
when I wouldn’t tell you what I know about the treasure. Tell me
father, what’s changed?”

His expression grew serious, “Despite what
you may have thought, I was not going to kill you, but I did push
you too far. That was very foolish of you to swim across such an
expanse of water at night. But it also took strength and courage,
both of which, you know, I admire. To be the success you have
become in your own right without any help from me, well that has
been exceptional to see. You have exceeded all your brothers and
sisters in that one regard alone. I look at you and I see more of
myself than I can say of any of them!” He said, gesturing towards
the house. “You have made me proud!” He finished on a deep note,
but I was not impressed.

“Flattery won’t get you any closer to the
treasure of our people dear father.”

His expression turned rueful and he shrugged
his massive shoulders, “It was worth a shot.”

I shook my head and looked out toward the
sea. “Why did you have to torture those men like that? Couldn’t you
just put a bullet in their heads if they had betrayed you?”

“They were warned what would happen to them
if they talked. They thought I would forget. NO! Examples had to be
made of them! You do not cross Iya Muatombo and live!” He said
slamming his hand down on the table for emphasis. “It’s because of
their betrayal that your life is now in danger!”

“How is that possible?”

He looked at me disgustedly and reached
across the table to smack me in the head. “I taught you to think
better than that. What have your years of being a detective not
taught you? They both, after betraying me moved to New York City,
because it’s one of the best places to hide in. Philippe, ever the
gambler got into debt and had to pull off risky jobs in order to
feed his expensive habits! He got caught and he told the Americans
what he knew to get out of the bind he was in. The stupid Americans
let the Chinese steal the information away from them right under
their noses and now they too want the treasure and that isn’t the
worst of it! Ahmed did Philippe one better! He sold his information
to terrorists, who will stop at nothing to get the treasure.
Imagine a terrorist network in full control of an unlimited source
of wealth such as the treasure of our people! It would be a
disaster! I have taken what I wanted and I have broken the laws of
many nations, but never have I wanted the world wide chaos of
anarchy that might come of such a terrorist group. It is they that
tried to kill you. Even though they do not yet know you are my
daughter, they know you are a capable detective and they don’t want
you to decipher the riddle before they do. And, as far as the
Americans are concerned, they too will try to shoot you in the
back. As for the Chinese they would kidnap you and torture you more
vilely than I ever would, in order to learn of your secrets!
Because of these two men your life is now in danger!”

“I didn’t know you cared so much for me?” I
said, with heavy sarcasm lacing my tone of voice.

Father pointed a stern finger at me, “I did
not lie when I said I was proud of who you have become!”

We both looked at each other for a long
moment and then I glanced away at the ocean, as we by mutual
agreement let the silence lengthen. Well I had my answers. My
father was guilty of murder once again, and yet he was one of the
few people in the world that, because of wealth and connections,
would never be brought to justice.

I had a terrorist cell that wanted me dead so
I didn’t spoil their fundraiser for their next global jihad. I was
a prime candidate to be seized by the CIA or some other agency and
water boarded, until they had what they needed to reinstate the
gold standard and kill inflation, all done in the name of what was
best for the greater good of the people. And then, of course, there
were the Chinese that would throw me in a hell hole somewhere and
rape and beat me practically to death, until I told them what they
wanted.

Then they would let me mercifully die,
rotting in a cell somewhere far from the range of any media
attention. It was a rather bleak future to consider. I really
should have just kept driving, but it was too late for that
now.

“I can protect you.” I looked over at father,
studying him and his offer.

He appeared sincere enough, but it was a self
evident truth that my father’s deals always got back far more than
was given out.

“Does anyone know of what significance I am
in finding the treasure?”

“No, I don’t think so. That is, other than
your brothers and sisters, and you can be sure that they have plans
of their own!” He looked away his gaze troubled and then
surprisingly he admitted, “I’m no longer in control of everything
like I used to be. It is hard to grow old.”

That was a shocking revelation coming from my
father. I was surprised his ego would allow him to admit such a
thing. I got up and he looked at me speculatively.

“Am I free to go or are you going to hold me
here as your prisoner?”

“You are free to go, but I will be
watching.”

“I never doubted it father.”

I turned to go, but he caught my arm. “The
detective that saved your life, I am very grateful to him. I set up
trust funds for his two children to be managed by their
mother.”

That further revelation shocked me. I knew he
was just trying to buy my affection, but he hadn’t had to do it in
that way. “I thank you for that.”

He nodded and let go. I had taken several
steps, when I came back to stand before my father. He looked up, a
little surprised I think.

“What do you know if anything about a man who
goes by the name of Flint?”

His eyebrows rose dramatically and he stood
up, “What has he to do in this?”

“I think he wants the treasure too. You know
of him then?”

“He very nearly succeeded in killing me
once!” He boomed out loudly.

I smiled feeling a little knot of tension
unravel inside of me. He stared angrily at me not liking my smile.
“What are you thinking?”

It was a little daring, but I couldn’t hold
myself back from saying, “Knowing that he wanted to kill you is
something of a personal recommendation to me.”

His face clouded up and I realized then that
I had said too much, but then he further surprised me by bursting
out laughing, “I have missed you and your sharp tongue! Will you
not stay for dinner?”

I wouldn’t even begin to dream of that. I
stepped back quickly, “No, the ferry is waiting for me and I must
go!” I said quickly.

“Very well then go; send Marshawn down to me
on your way out.”

I nodded and headed back to the car. Was I
really going to get out of here? He had to have some plan in play,
but what was it? I drew near a group of gathered men that had been
standing and watching the entire interchange between me and
father.

They were all my brothers and yet they looked
at me with calculated dislike, which I let sheet off of me, as best
as I could. It would not do to show that I was intimidated at this
stage of the game.

Picking Marshawn out of the bunch I jerked my
head back toward father and said, “He wants you.”

And that was all. I got in my car and left,
thanking God all the way for a miracle.

Marshawn drew near the table and stopped. A
chess board was laid out on the table. He’d never cared for the
game, but he’d found himself stuck playing it with his father on
more than one occasion.

“Tell me Marshawn, do you hate your sister as
the others do?” Iya asked without looking up.

Marshawn shrugged his shoulders, “She’s
threatened nothing of mine. I see no reason to hate her until she
does.”

Iya looked up at him, “Who was your
mother?”

Not at all put out Marshawn responded, “The
French whore from New Orleans.”

Iya nodded. “I like you Marshawn; you have
learned the value of being content with what you have, a virtue
that I have never bothered to pursue.” He pointed to the chess
board. “Which one of these pieces are you?”

Marshawn thought about it for a moment and
then pointed to a pawn.

“Very true and you have value as such, but
which of these pieces do you think your sister is?” Iya didn’t wait
for him to answer but picked up the queen, “She is the queen, the
most powerful of all the pieces. Do I make myself clear?”

Marshawn nodded.

“Get your rifle and take one of the motor
boats and get to the dock before your sister does and see her
safely on her way. If any of your brothers or sisters gets in the
way, shoot them! You have my blessing and I will see that twenty
million dollars is added to your account.”

Marshawn nodded, hiding the surprise at the
amount of favor just shown to him. He was curious about something,
“Which of the pieces are you Father?”

“I’m none of them. I’m the master that plays
all of them. Now go and earn your money!”

Marshawn hurried off and Iya got up and
headed back to the house and the welcoming committee that had
formed. His sons, he thought in disgust. They had his heartless
cruelty, but none of his cunning.