Recluse:The Ramona Question

  ‘It depends on who is asking.’ a husky male voice had shot into his ears.

  ‘Someone you want to kill.’ Rodriquez had said.

  Three hours earlier, Rodriquez had purchased a phone. He’d immediately placed a call to Selton Mello back in Brazil.

  'Did you find out about César?' He'd asked anxious.'

  'Of course amigo,' Selli had replied. 'Your César's real names are Juan Carlos Pérez. Born in Southern Colombia, was captured by the FARC rebels at the tender age of thirteen. He was forced to watch his father and mother get shot by the rebels before being whisked away and indoctrinated into the animal he is now. He believes he was chosen to liberate his fatherland from Capitalism and all their supporters. He has risen within the FARC ranks because of his brutality, beheadings and mutilations. Many even amongst his comrades are afraid of him.

  'In other words,' shot in Rodriquez, 'he's a mad man.'

  Images of César's dark almond-shaped eyes pierced into Rodriquez, his muscular tattooed hand holding Gilibert's mutilated head flashed into his mind.

  'If you put it that way, yes.' retorted Selli. 'He is the second most wanted man in Colombia after the FARC rebel leader Timishenko.'

  'Apparently,' interjected Rodriquez, 'he also happens to be friends with the very people hunting for him. I happened to cross paths with him yesterday morning in central Bogotá.' Rodriquez continued, 'and I think I will again, very soon. But first, I need another favor.'

  ‘No Rodrigo.' protested Selli. 'What is it now?'

  'I want to know everything there is to know about a man called Julio Pablo.'

  'Detective Rodriquez,' answered Julio, his voice getting louder, 'you are hard man to find.'

  'Why are you pursuing me?' asked Rodriquez.

  'Isn’t it obvious detective?' Julio asked before adding. 'You took something precious from the organization and they want it back.'

  'What did I take?'

  'You tell me Rodriquez.' the man on the line said.

  'I don’t know what you are talking about.'

  'Yes, you know and are willing to kill for her.'

  'Ramona?'

  'That’s what makes you and me unique in a sense.' Julio answered in reply. 'We are not afraid to do whatever it takes to protect those we love.'

  The man, Rodriquez noticed, sounded more and more like Miguel.

  ‘No, I didn’t take her away from you or anyone. She chose her own destiny and I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘She loved you Rodriquez, you made her love you which made her make costly mistakes.'

  'I cannot be blamed for her love for me, if that's what you're saying.’ Rodriquez replied angrily. 'I tried to stop her from coming to Colombia but she was adamant.'

  'Rodriquez, the organization puts her death squarely on you and they want retribution. My job is simply to make sure they get what they demand and you cannot stop me.'

  'I don’t owe the organization anything and I will not be sacrificed because of someone else's mistake.'

  'It's not your call to make Detective.' Julio interrupted. 'It ceased the moment you killed Miguel and Alfonzo Marcelo.'

  'It was self-defense.' answered Rodriquez in protest. His heart was thudding. He hadn’t expected the man to know so much. He recalled Marcelo's distinct receding hairline, and mischievous mud-brown eyes and anger began to build inside him. Memories of that night atop Mount Corcovado came flooding back. He needed to stay calm. This wasn’t the reason he'd called.

  'The FARC rebels are planning to assassinate the president of Colombia.' Rodriquez finally said, 'with the help of high ranking officers in the Colombian police.'

  The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. He knew he'd driven the point home. Selton Mello had given him the run down on Julio’s ties with Colombia’s first family.

  Julio, according to Rodriquez' Intel, was an arms dealer supplying the Colombian government with several illegal military equipment. The Colombian president was a personal friend who it was rumored was receiving kickbacks from Julio's company Defender incorporated for winning several bids. The latest being a lucrative deal for the supply of four hundred, one hundred fifty five millimeter field howitzer guns and two tornado fighter jets. The company had paid over ten million American dollars in kickbacks to top Colombian politicians and key defense officials in order to secure the one and a half billion dollar arms deal. Rodriquez knew, for Julio, a threat to the president life was indeed a threat to his company's survival.

  'I don’t believe you.' Julio hissed on the phone. Rodriquez could hear the man breathing heavy into the phone.

  'You don’t have to.' Rodriquez answered in reply. 'I am merely stating a fact but you and I know it's going to happen.'

  President Carlos Herero Hernandez was running for a second term in office. He was on the final leg of his campaign trail, scheduled to address tens of thousands of his supporters at the Parque Central Simon Bolívar, Bogotá. The expansive open air grass park was to hold the final campaign rally for the candidate of Colombia's Liberal party, scheduled to start at three pm, Friday, two days away. Both men also knew the president had many enemies in Colombia and abroad, drug cartels, members of opposition, and the FARC rebels. He had openly denounced the FARC rebels and their activities at all his rallies.

  'How do you know that?' Julio asked.

  'I was asked to carry out the hit in exchange for my friend's life.'

  'When?'

  'Before the camp she was being held in was bombed to the ground.'

  'Who asked you to?'

  'Timoshenko.'

  'Where and when were you to carry out the hit?'

  'Here in Bogotá, two days from today.'

  'Is it why you are still in Colombia?'

  'Yes.'

  'I'll kill you Rodriquez if you dare.'

  'That depends if you can find me.'

  'What do you want?'

  'Keep off and I'll stay clear of your friend.'

  'That's not for me to decide.'

  'Then I guess all bets are off.'

  'Wait!' Julio shouted. 'We can work something out.'

  'I’m listening.'

  'I can provide you with information on the organization's next hit man.'

  'Julio, amigo' Rodriquez said angrily, 'I don't need to know about mere hit men, I need to know who turns the screws in this organization, the people who pull the strings.'

  'You are asking too much Rodriquez, even I don’t know everything. Recluse is a highly compartmentalized entity. Every piece knows only what the organization wants us to know. I don’t even know how many of us there are. No one knows everything apart from a select few.'

  'Now, those select few are who I want to know.'

  'I can't tell you that.'

  'Then say goodbye to your friend and your little dealings.' Rodriquez said before hanging up.

  He had set the ball in motion. There wasn’t going back now. Turning to stare through the rectangular metallic bugler proofing of the open glass window inside a discreet rented hotel room elevated above the trees, in the distance, almost a mile away, in clear view lay the greens of Parque Central Simon Bolívar, a small blue lake reflecting the afternoon sun's rays in the middle of the park. Rodriquez could see what appeared like small ants, racing about in preparation for the Friday rally.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Three days ago, Wednesday, 2:56am

  Rodriquez narrowed his thick black eyebrows revealing a somber mood. He was staring at his reflection inside a huge shower mirror. He had been having nightmares again and as the sink's cold sprinkles drained off his hardened face, the look in his eyes seemed haunting and dark.

  He was startled by a deep husky voice speaking from within the room. It was Miguel's voice. Frightened, Rodriquez turned asking.

  'What do you want from me?'

  He was met with a deafening silence. It was still dark; daybreak was still a few hours away. The bathroom light began to flicker worryingly. He glanced back into
the dark towards his bed. No sound, no one. The room was devoid of any one except him. Moving slowly out of the shower, Rodriquez prepared himself for the worst. A hallowing sound suddenly came to his ears. Turning in the direction it came, Rodriquez let out a shriek upon seeing a pale grey hand reach out to clasp his arm before vanishing.

  ‘Oh God!’

  His mind went into a trance. It was the arm of his old friend, Miguel Almeida. Rodriquez' already petrified frame went numb slumping backwards onto the thick Hotel bed. The horrific sight returned, this time in its entirety.

  'Miguel!' He screamed.

  The shape instead glided away towards the drawn window curtains. Rodriquez looked on in terror. Never before had he encountered a ghost.

  ‘What do you want?’ Rodriquez asked, his mouth gaping. He felt all strength drain out of his nibble body. The shape turned staring directly into his eyes. He could see it wore Miguel's face, his heavy frame but it was hollow, misty.

  ‘I should ask you the same question.’ Miguel replied. His voice sounded like a rushing wave deep and commanding.

  'But you are dead.' Rodriquez said his body shaking. 'I saw you die at Mount Corcovado.'

  'You dare mention that place to me?' The shape bellowed coming close to a terrified Rodriquez who clung tightly onto the white bed sheets.

  'She’s dead too now, isn’t she?' The shape gaped revealing a deep dark hollow opening inside its mouth. 'And you Rodrigo are next.'

  Rodriquez' big brown eyes remained fixed on the shape. He leapt from where he’d slumped racing for the door but was stilled by the sudden appearance of the ghost in front of him.

  ‘I too have been having these strange dreams lately Rodrigo, of your little girl Mariana.’ the ghost said.

  Still stunned, Rodriquez said in reply ‘I feel sorry for you amigo’, his voice low and stuttering.

  ‘But you're my friend Rodrigo, aren’t you?'

  He felt a cold chill ran inside him as the shape drifted away out through the window leaving behind a potent smell of death.

  His mind was racing, his heart pumping so hard.

  'Are you scared of death Rodrigo?' The shape was back inside the room, its yellow eyes wide and deathly. Rodriquez felt a sudden gasp of breath. He was choking.

  'Why are you denying the inevitable?' it asked as its lingering gaze brought a sudden violent grasp of teeth, arms and feet stretched out. Rodriquez was in a fight, a fight with death.

  'I don’t mean to scare you or anything,' Miguel said. 'You are yet to feel the pain I feel in hell, but don’t worry child, you will have your turn, and then, nothing will really matter anymore. It is time for you Rodrigo to leave the grand stage called life.'

  Miguel vanished leaving a breathless Rodriquez clutching his throat gasping for breath on the hotel floor. Nothing like this had happened to him before.

  Pulling himself to his feet, Rodriquez frantically searched through the darkened room, found the light switch turning it on. His heart thumped as he looked around the room but was met by silence. He rushed and reached for his phone. It was just past three in the morning. Then he heard a gentle tap on the door.

  Whispering greetings to Rodriquez, the voice sounded like Natalia's and was calling out to him. A cold chill sent shivers through his entire body as tears swelled in his eyes. He was being haunted. He just couldn’t stay inside this room a minute longer. It was time to move.

  Nervously, he threw his dark blue hoody on, turned the door knob slowly, his heart thudding. He was again met by a stilled silence. He saw no one either side of the brightly light hotel corridor. He stepped into the corridor shutting the door hastily behind him before rushing to the lift leading down to the lobby area. He felt relieved when he finally stepped out onto the cold dark deserted Bogotá Street. Outside, he was met by a few cars racing noisily past in opposite directions. A cold wind and light drizzle accosted his lean strong features as he turned left and walked along the wet cobbled narrow street past a line of parked vehicles.

  Ten minutes later he had made his way onto another dimly lit street, he was drawn to sounds of what seemed like a night club's music growing ever loudly into his ears. Crossing the street, he caught a glimpse of a flicker, bright lights signaling a night club in the vicinity. Outside, a group of young men in thick dark jackets stood leaning against the wall smoking. As he came closer, he could smell the potent marijuana scent and saw clouds of cigarette smoke rise slowly towards the night skies. He entered the club's dim narrow corridor.

  Inside was parked with revelers swinging and swaying in all directions to blaring techno sounds. The flickering bright lights made everyone else appear translucent. Rodriquez could hardly make his way past the packed sweaty bodies inside. Everyone inside this place appeared merry amidst the intense blasts. Squeezing through the happy crowds, he headed for the bar ordering for a Martini before turning to observe the hypnotized crowd.

  'Lost?' a female voice yelled into his right ear almost taking him off balance. She wore a jolly expression, brightly colored eyes, a long thin nose and red hair.

  'No.' He yelled back. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

  'Buy me a drink.' She said loudly pressing her small frame hard against him.

  'No.' He said shoving her to the side. Her breath was potent. She wore a green sports jacket and tight denims. Rodriquez reckoned she probably was in her early twenties.

  'Then at least you buy for my friend a drink.' She said pointing at a face in the crowd.

  Even with a baseball cap pressed tightly on her head, Rodriquez instantly recognized the gentle oval lean face.

  'Alejandra?' He asked surprised.

  'Yes.' replied the drunk. 'Alejandra sent me to you.'

  Walking directly towards her, Rodriquez immediately noticed she was nervous.

  'There's a man to our left in a black jacket,' she said, 'has kept staring at me.'

  'Hey, calm down, everyone here is staring at you, does that make all of them want to kill you?' Rodriquez asked gently. 'I'm surprised you haven’t left Bogotá.' staring quizzical at her face.

  'Come.' she said taking his hand. She lead him through the crowds up a flight of tightly packed stairs to another dance area, a lounge, with a few scattered occupied red leather box shaped seats, past two men, cues in hands, staring at a billiard table.

  The man, Rodriquez noticed, the same man Alejandra had pinpointed kept staring at them. Finally, they spotted an empty seat in a dark corner squeezing into it next to each other. Below, over a glass barricade, Rodriquez could see frenzied revelers gyrate to the rhythms.

  'I tried to get back to my apartment,' she said, 'but I found it had been ransacked, everything thrown about. My landlady said, about twenty policia had been there looking for me. She even asked me if I were a criminal.'

  'I'm terribly sorry for having caused you all this trouble.' Rodriquez. 'But I think you still need to leave Bogotá while you still can, these people are dangerous and will not hesitate to kill you if they must.'

  'But why?' she asked staring worryingly at him. 'I don’t understand.'

  His heart pumped hard. He had to tell her.

  'Look, I haven’t told you everything there is about all these things happening, but....'

  The thick moustache face joined them. Rodriquez hadn’t noticed the man approach to where they sat. Last he had seen him stare intently at them as they took to the stairs.

  'May I join you two love birds?' the man asked staring at Rodriquez. His eyes narrow and twinkling in the disco lights. A chill run through Rodriquez' veins making his entire body shiver when he noticed from the man's hand gesture, he was holding something, a gun. Rodriquez noticed Alejandra too was terrified.

  ‘Calm down my dear’ Rodriquez chipped in his eyes steadied on Alejandra, ‘he only wishes to talk. Please, join us.' he beckoned to the man.

  'No you join me.' Interjected the man, 'both of you, outside.’

  ‘As you wish.' replied Rodriquez coolly.

  Rodriquez
knew he had to do something. This man had been trailing Alejandra and was here to kill her. Rodriquez straightened himself standing up; he felt his heart pelt rapidly within.

  'After you.' commanded the man.

  Perplexed, Rodriguez slowly walked ahead trying not to appear nervous. Close behind, a petrified Alejandra too followed. He stopped abruptly just as they approached the billiard area bending low appearing to pick something off the ground. He felt a hand shove him in the back.

  'Move.'

  That was the moment he'd been waiting for.

  Spinning around, in one sweep, he drove his right elbow into the man's ribcage with such force that the gun was sent flying out of the assassin's hand into the crowds below. Next, he head butted the stunned gunman sending him scampering backwards groaning, his hands holding onto his forehead.

  'Run!' he shouted at Alejandra as the man recovered ramming his huge hard frame into Rodriquez sending both men smashing into seated revelers. Acute pain shot into Rodriquez' back as he fell atop a coffee table spilling liquor amidst screams and shouts from bystanders and revelers. The weight and strength of the man atop of him was formable as they tussled, rolling, wrestling wildly and smashing into more seats and tables. The man was ferociously trying to pin Rodriquez to the ground.

  A loud pop sound smacked onto them shuttering glass about. Someone, possibly an enraged drunkard or sympathizer, Rodriquez couldn’t tell, had hit the man with a bottle to the back of the head. This gave Rodriquez an opportunity to free himself, kicking hard at his attacker in the groin. Fumbling to his feet, he noticed it was Alejandra.

  'Are crazy?' He shouted. 'I said run!'

  'I can't leave you here! She yelled back at him. He could see she was holding a piece of the broken bottle.

  Rodriquez felt a heavy thud as the man rammed hard into him this time from the back sending both men crashing onto the billiard table amidst more shouts and protests from stunned patrons. A stinging pain shot through his torso and forehead. The force had sent his head slamming onto the table's rock hard surface scattering the billiard balls. Rodriquez knew this wasn’t a fight he was going to win easily. His opponent was by far stronger and more menacing than he had first given him credit. He had to do something out of the ordinary, fight dirty.