Paradise - Part Four (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) (4 page)

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Of course.”

“You think it was more than just sex for him?”

“Again it’s hard to say. I can’t get any real read on his thoughts.”

“Still no clue what he does for a living? To make all those billions?”

“Billions?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I know it’s millions or billions. I’m not sure which. I never researched him.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Some things are just better left to the imagination, I find.”

“Fascinating. You are bizarre.”

“When did you figure that out?”

“God, I’ve missed you. I know neither of us is gay. That’s just a label. I mean, we have sex, but that’s just like a lot of masturbation with another person. It’s not an affair of the heart per se. But…I can’t describe it. I just get the deepest feelings for you. It transcends friendship or sexuality or anything else.”

“Love?”

“It transcends love.”

She smiled.

“Beautifully put,
mon ami
. Beautifully put.”

Julie watched our surroundings in quiet anticipation. We passed through the gates and took the dirt road deeper into the jungle. The first white pyramid of a roof poked through the trees and she gasped. Then the villa came into view.

“This is a amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. My family has money. But nothing like this. I feel like I’m entering Jurassic Park without the dinosaurs. The star attraction is instead the ludicrously rich man in all his glorious eccentricity.”

“You’re too much, Julie. It will be interesting to have someone around to see all this who’s got some sense and who isn’t already jaded by being around it so often.”

“The girl Anna you talked about in your diary—she seemed to have some sense.”

“Yes, but she’s been around all this far too long. She’s desensitized.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m constantly amazed. Even though it’s been almost four months, I still wake up every day not believing where I am.”

“Give it another couple months. You’ll get used to it if you’re still here.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“No worries, my lovely lady.”

In the kitchen we had a cup of coffee each before heading through the garden and the palm trees to Anse Lazio. She gawked at the opulent surroundings. The vacant beach was the icing on the cake.

“This is crazy. What luck. Who knew a girl could just put in a résumé one day and the next be walking on the beaches of the Bahamas, driving a Porsche Cayenne? And you haven’t even shown me your room yet.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“Does it have a view?”

“You can see the ocean in the distance.”

She laughed.

“What?”

“Unbelievable. You must be one of the luckiest girls alive.”

“I’m not married to him.”

“Even better. But what you just said reveals a lot.”

“I’m just saying—I’m somewhere near the bottom of the totem pole. Still a nanny.”

“For now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know you, Sophia, if only just a bit. I know you enough to know that you’re ambitious.”

“We’ve talked about a place in the company.”

“Uh huh.”

“Uh huh—what?”

“Just
uh huh
. First his dick, then the company, then who knows what else.”

I laughed.

“Marriage? A baby?”

“Let’s not get too carried away. I’m not that conventional.”

But I’m afraid conventional I was becoming.

“We’re gonna have fun while I’m here. Tons of it. In boatloads like gold bars.” Julie said the silliest things when she was enthusiastic about something. “Oh, Sophia, I’ve missed you so much.”

She became sentimental and tears formed in her eyes.

I couldn’t help sharing her emotion and tears formed in mine too. And with this I felt liberated from the prior days of agony. The darkness was made unreal by the light. Life is like the dream of a pendulum swinging between contrasting feelings. And none of it matters because it’s all transient and illusory.

The Eleutheran

October 18, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

COLOMBIAN MODEL HOSPITALIZED WITH MYSTERY ILLNESS

Ava Madeiros, aged 26, from Bogota, Colombia, has been hospitalized in Nassau with an extreme illness which causes excessive vomiting and hair loss. No other specifics about the illness have been released. Authorities have not commented as far as what they think the illness may be or the cause of it. Ms. Madeiros was hospitalized yesterday, 17
th
October, after falling ill during a photo shoot at Spanish Wells. After the symptoms would not abate but only increased, she was flown to Nassau for hospitalization and treatment. This story will be updated as more information comes in.

Sophia Durant’s Diary (continued)

I read the article online after performing a search for Madeiro’s name with a blocked IP address. I wondered about the other woman who had drunk from the poisoned cup, but since I didn’t have a name I couldn’t search her out. I read the rest of the day’s paper and there was nothing in it about anyone else having fallen ill. I closed the MacBook Pro, set it on the bedside table and watched the covers next to me rise and fall as Julie slept soundly. I put my arms around her and fell asleep.

I awake from a pleasant dream to the sensation of a soft tongue licking my labia and clitoris. It’s still dark. I peek under the covers to see her hair, which tickles my legs, as she tongues my vagina. She inserts her fingers and the pleasure moves in waves up through my chest. Julie kisses along my tummy, up to my chest, where she sucks my hardened nipples and squeezes my breasts together, rubbing her lower lips on mine. Amidst waves of pleasure I pass in and out of the dream state.

The next day I had a one-on-one meeting with Stafford in his office. He held up a local newspaper, flipping through it, as I entered. There was a long silence before he finally spoke.

“Someone’s coming for me. First, the dead real estate agent. Now two girls who were at my party are very sick. Looks like some kind of poisoning. I’ve seen it before in Eastern Europe. Someone’s trying to get me in trouble, but I don’t know who.”

He seemed shaken.

“You were close to the girls?” I asked.

“One of them I’ve only recently met. The other’s the wife of a past business associate. I don’t even know her.”

“You want me to spy on anyone connected with both of these girls and figure out what’s going on.”

I said it as a statement of fact.

“Yes and no. I want you to spy, but not on anyone close to them. It wouldn’t be anyone close to them who did it. It would be someone or a group unknown to them.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“You want me to find out who it could be.”

“Yes. But I don’t, as yet, know how to go about determining that.”

“We’ll have to start with groups of suspects and narrow it down.”

I couldn’t believe my luck—the fact that he was coming to me to solve this.

As if in answer to my thoughts he mused, “You’re the one who is solely responsible for a new kind of security I’m finding myself more and more in need of. I want you to go to work immediately on this one. You may assemble a small team if you like. Drop the other task I’ve given you about the two gentlemen from the beach and pursue this—don’t drop it altogether, but put it aside for now. Understood?”

“Sure. One question.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you had any more interaction with local law enforcement? Anything at all to do with this?”

“No, nothing. I haven’t heard from them yet.”

“But you expect to…”

“I’m not really sure. We’ll see.”

That night we ate in a dining room several floors up in the villa. The last remaining light of day fell into the room that was otherwise lit by only a few candles around the table. Wonderful French dishes were served, from
cassoulet
and
canard
to
tartare de boeuf
. Bottles of Beaujoulais Nouveau were poured. Stafford was very friendly toward Julie who was surprisingly shy in the course of the evening. He was inquisitive about her background and how we knew each other, as well as her interests and where she’d traveled.

“I hope you come down and spend more time with us here. Also come visit next time we’re in Augustine,” Stafford called out to us as we left.

We were all tipsy and I looked forward to snuggling up with Julie.

In the room I rolled a couple joints with a new strain I had been given by Anna. It was called California One Time and it crept up slowly before delivering a hard punch with dizzying impact. We watched
Daughters of Darkness
as we fell asleep.

Chapter 14

The Eleutheran

October 28, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

AVA MADEIROS DIES IN HOSPITAL OF MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS

Colombian model Ava Madeiros has died in hospital on the island of Nassau after being admitted 17
th
October. Reportedly all her hair had fallen out, and she became increasingly nauseated and unable to eat up to the time of her death yesterday. Her mother and father stayed on Nassau for the last two weeks. No announcements have been made yet as to her funeral. The matter is still under investigation by local authorities.

Sophia Durant’s Diary

October 30, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

I experienced the mixed feelings of being relieved and mildly shocked on reading the article. It was the first mention of her in the newspaper since she had been admitted to the hospital on Nassau. I felt less guilty than after Emma Green’s death. I wondered why. I went to Google on the iPad and searched the woman’s name who had accidently ingested the poison as well. An article came up on the CNN website about her. The headline read, “Woman Dies of Radiation Poisoning.” I read on to find that the matter was under investigation by the FBI. The fact didn’t worry me, but, rather, I was mildly amused. I decided to take a stroll on the beach after my morning coffee. Turning the matter over in my mind on Anse Lazio, I felt satisfied that I had succeeded in my purpose and didn’t really mind the extra casualty involved. In the past weeks my relationship with Stafford had improved greatly. We fucked most nights when he was at the
villa and I took on an increased load of personal security work for him, the results of which he seemed quite pleased with. His trust in me and my abilities increased quite a bit though he still didn’t reveal any specifics about his line of business.

As I collected bottles of baby food at a grocery store in Governor’s Harbour I noticed a funny little man checking me out from the opposite end of the aisle. I began to have a bad feeling about him, almost like a premonition, especially when he got in line right behind me. I glanced at him and further noticed his bizarre appearance. He had shaved between his eyebrows revealing the fact that his was naturally a unibrow, thick and dark like Bert from Sesame Street. He smelled bad and his manner was so grotesque that when he ventured to talk to me I was utterly repulsed.

“I see that you’re shopping here alone, ma’am,” he mumbled.

“My husband’s in the car outside waiting for me,” I lied.

“Impossible. You’re not married,” he sniffed.

The cashier looked at me sympathetically.

“This conversation’s over. Good day.”

I took my bags.

He bought some cigars and followed me out. I turned to face him. He smiled at me.

“Do you want me to call the police?” I said.

“You are free to. But that won’t really be necessary.”

He flashed me a bit of paper from his wallet. It had a picture on it.

“Glenn Carter,” he continued as he near me, “Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

My heart rate jumped. The blood drained from my face.

“Do you want to see my identification again?” he said, showing it to me.

It appeared to be real.

“Cup of coffee, madam?” he asked with a smile.

“Sure,” I acquiesced. “Mind if I set these groceries in the car?”

“Nice car,” he said.

I put the bags in the passenger seat.

“A gift.”

“From your illustrious employer no doubt.”

“Yes.”

Several possibilities came to mind: he was here about Stafford’s business, he was here about the dead women, one or two of them, or all three. I collected myself and tried to breathe slowly as we sat down in a coffee shop across the street with a view to Tarpum Bay.

“You may have guessed why I’m here. You may not have. Nonetheless I need to ask you…you see it is imperative…that this meeting and any to follow—there will be others—remain strictly confidential…strictly between us.” His voice was nasally and hoarse from smoking.

“That’s fine. Mind telling me what it’s about?”

“It’s regarding your employer, Mr. Mark Stafford.”

I was deeply relieved to say the least.

“What’s wrong? Has he done something? I’m sensing this isn’t about tax evasion.”

He chuckled.

“No, that would involve IRS agents, not us. What we’re dealing with here is more serious than that. Quite a bit more serious.”

“I see.”

“What you may or may not know is that some women who have been linked with him have died recently. We don’t know whether these deaths were in any way caused by him, but the circumstances are rather suspicious. We’ve also been tracking his activities for some time in relation to his business dealings. But that is another matter entirely and we’ll get into that at a later date.”

“His business dealings?”

“Yes. Would you happen to know anything about Mr. Stafford’s business? Are you aware of what he does for a living? How he’s amassed his staggering fortune?”

“All I know is he’s got a hedge fund. I don’t even really know much about that.”

“We believe the hedge fund is just a front.”

“Like a cover…for something else?” I pretended naïveté.

“Yes. But, like I said, we’ll come to that later.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“We’re trying to gather more information on Mark Stafford. We’ve come to a juncture—a point in our investigation where we’ve realized we need someone on the inside. We’re aware of a relationship that goes beyond typical employer-employee status between the two of you and we felt you were best positioned among all in his sphere to perform this special task for us. In regards to the recent deaths, you’d be doing it not only for Uncle Sam, but also for the families of the deceased. As to the other business—regarding his dealings—that would be in the national interest. Quite possibly a matter of national security.”

“National security?”

“I know it’s a lot to absorb all at once. You’ll need time to consider. But it needs to happen fast.”

“Is he some kind of suspected terrorist?”

“No. Not really. But this you must keep a secret. Do I have your word?”

“Of course. I’m not a talkative person to begin with.”

“Good. I’ve been cleared by my superiors to speak to you about it. Mr. Stafford is suspected of illicit arms trading overseas. In fact, that’s most likely how he amassed his multibillion dollar fortune. This is a matter of national security.”

Ironic, I thought, that the FBI would be the ones to clear that up for me.

“I got it. I won’t repeat it. The thought is a little scary, to be honest with you,” I lied.

I couldn’t believe the irony of the fact that they suspected Stafford of the murders and were coming to me about it. I would enjoy considering the multitude of options now laid out before me as to how I could play the FBI and Stafford off each other.

“I’m glad you are receptive to the need for secrecy. I’m also glad for the fact that you would possibly be willing to work with us. As an informant, you would be compensated. Although the compensation would be modest, you might derive satisfaction from the fact that you have it within your reach to make a significant improvement in the world by helping us.”

“So Stafford may be a big underworld boss?”

“Yes. It is highly likely.”

A buzz erupted in his pocket. He took out a Blackberry and read a message on it.

“I must be going. I want you to give what we have discussed some serious thought and get back to me once you have decided what you would like to do.”

He slipped me a card across the table.

“Here’s my number. Call me once you have considered.”

With that the small, odd man got up and left the table. I began to smile but immediately suppressed it on the thought that I was possibly being watched by someone else after he left.

Before leaving I looked at the card with the phone number one last time only half-believing this turn in fortune was real. Though I at least didn’t seem to be the focus of the investigation it still felt like the first prick in the bubble that life had become. I would have to live by my wits again if only a little. In the Cayenne I rolled a joint out of some Sativa I had stashed in the dash. Rolling along Queen’s Highway on cloud nine from the weed smoke I considered the various options on the table.

One—away from all electronic devices I could tell Stafford of my encounter with Bert, our conversation over coffee, and his suspicions. I didn’t feel I owed Stafford that kind of loyalty mainly because he didn’t confide in me with regards to his business. Still, I didn’t really want to jeopardize his position or his wealth. I could still help him covertly. I definitely felt no allegiance to the United States government. It’s a corrupt, unwieldy group that buckles under its own weight. It’s inefficient, often unjust, and byzantine in its dealings.

Two—I could tell the FBI to piss off. Probably not the wisest tactical move from any standpoint. Obviously they would continue their investigation without me. Then I would be in the dark. Indeed not very smart.

Three—I could just not tell him and deliberately mislead Bert and the FBI. I could manipulate them both and play my cards according to whatever situation arises. This is the safest, best option.

I considered the third option the best course of action. I would consent to become an FBI informant. That night I called Special Agent Carter from Anze Lazio. I looked around in the fading light, which had a magical affect on the environment and my mood.

“Special Agent Carter speaking,” came the hoarse voice, which crackled with the bad reception.

“Special Agent Carter, it’s Sophia Durant.”

“Yes, ma’am. How are you?”

He sounded very friendly.

“Very well thank you, and you?”

“Oh, just another day on the job in the Bahamas. I have to say it’s not all bad.”

He laughed. I laughed too. I was falling for his charm.

“I gave the matter we discussed this afternoon long thought and…I’m in. I want to work with you as an informant.”

“Great news. As this is not a secure line, I ask that we please curtail our conversation here and meet in person to discuss the details further.”

“That would be great.”

“Tomorrow morning coffee at the same place we met today?”

“I’d prefer to change location and keep changing it in the future for security reasons.”

“It makes sense. Where would you like to meet?”

“Let’s meet at d’Artegnan’s—eight o’clock.”

I was sitting at a booth by a window overlooking BoneFish Bay by a quarter to eight the next morning. Carter walked in just a minute or two after I had arrived. He spotted me at once, smiled and walked over.

“Great minds think alike, eh?”

“It’s scary.”

“Have you ever considered working for the FBI?”

“Not till last night.”

“I see. Well, you’ve obviously got a very sharp mind. You must have for Stafford to take you so much into his confidence.”

“How do you mean?”

“As I told you, we are aware of the intimate nature of your relationship with him. I mean, in the bedroom. And you are nanny to his baby.”

“You are not American, are you? Not by birth?”

“Is it the accent?”

“Mainly the accent, yes. But also the way you speak. The construction of the sentences. You’re first language is Spanish or Portuguese.”

“Spanish. I’m of Peruvian descent. But I am American. I was born in San Jose, California. My mother was born in Peru. My name is American because of my father. He worked for the U.S. Embassy in Lima and married a native girl—my mother.”

“Your English excellent and I only barely hear an accent.”

“I spent some years growing up in Peru. Back to what I was getting to—you are excellent at the diversion.”

“Thank you. I try.”

Though it’s easy to find much that’s contemptible about the man he is charming in his way. One might say he’s an acquired taste.

He continued, “We have reason to believe he’s having you take on extra duties.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not presently at liberty to say.”

“Uh huh.
National security
, is it?”

“Something like that. There’s something else too.”

“What?”

“The FBI, we always come in twos. You haven’t met my partner. He’s waiting in the car. I’d like your permission to allow him to sit in on our conversations. It just adds accountability. Something for the Bureau really. Mostly just a habit.”

He seemed nervous about the mention of his partner. Of course I’d watched enough movies to know they always traveled in twos.