Chapter Fifteen
‘Hey, I made you breakfast Juan Manuel.’ Ramona’s soft voice greeted Rodriquez in his bed. His closed eyes burned from the morning sun’s rays that shot through the drawn window curtains.
‘You need to get yourself a wife.’ she joked. He could hear the clinking sound of utensils being sifted. The wafting sweet smell of bacon mixed with a piercing aroma of coffee came and filled the room.
‘You’ve slept enough already, get up and eat something.’ She said as she pulled his beddings away from him.
‘Okay, I’m up.’ he said pulling himself up. He felt mildly embarrassed because she had called him Juan Manuel; it was the alias he’d given her when they sat next to each other on the flight to México. He also felt uncomfortable she was in his bedroom.
A few hours earlier, he had stepped on the rented Renault's gas pedal like a man possessed on the descent from mount Corcovado’s peak. He had wanted to get far away as possible from the horrific scene behind him. He felt hollow inside. Yes, he had gotten his revenge, Marcelo was dead but the grief he felt at Miguel’s betrayal was beyond comprehension. The words the now dead Marcelo had spoken to him kept replaying themselves in his mind, ‘When my amigo Miguel here joined us a few years back, he assured me of your loyalty if you came onboard, but that you needed some bit of persuasion. So he arranged to deliver your daughter to us.’ Rodriquez knew these words would haunt him for the rest of his life, a deep scar that would never fully heal. He had found himself crying. He didn’t remember what had happened thereafter but he had found himself at his doorstep and Ramona standing right behind him.
‘Thank you Juliana Lopes Menezes.’ Rodriquez shot back with a chuckle. He reached out and clutched the cup of coffee.
‘Who told you all three of my names?’ Her honey-blond hair hang long spreading along her white cotton t-shirt.
‘I thought you were a brunette?’ he asked ignoring her question. The bacon tasted savory and salty.
‘I’m many things you don’t know.’ She said coming to sit next to him on the bed. He took in her distinct sharp spicy fragrant.
‘It’s J’adore by Christian Dior, if you ask.' She said.
‘I guess that’s your Daughter in that picture.’
‘Yes. Mariana.’
‘She is very pretty. She has your eyes.’
‘Had.’ He corrected.
‘Am sorry.’
‘It’s alright. She can finally rest easy now.’
‘Who told you my names?’ She quizzed changing the conversation.
‘Some ugly bird whispered to me, the same bird you shot dead.’
‘I have shot a lot of ugly birds dead in my life time. Please be specific.’ She quizzed him again.
He turned to face the other way.
‘Is something the matter?’ She asked looking concerned.
‘Yeah, I’m still to yet figure out why I saw the same crime scene in the favela twice.’ He answered.
‘What exactly are you talking about?’
Rodriquez went on to describe the bizarre ‘double’ death of Isabella, and how her death had spiraled into all the events leading up to last night. When he was done, Ramona turned towards him, took his face into both her delicate soft palms and said,
‘That is what they turn you into. It’s what they’ve turned us all into, killing machines.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will after I tell you this.’ She said. ‘The Recluse is a deep cover army of paid mercenaries which operates covertly. We eliminate targets deemed a risk to our funders, no questions asked. The double death you just described was part of your training. It was meant to distort your sense of reality, question your very existence, and drive you insane. The first time you found the corpse, it was faked. The second time, unfortunately for her, it was for real. But now that you’ve gone and killed not one but two of our own, if they find out, of which I’m most certain they will with the kind of resources at their disposal, then you are a marked man. These people, whoever they are, will stop at nothing in their pursuit to find you and kill you. They will activate sleeper recluses, merciless assassins, to hunt and cut you off from the land of the living.’
‘Then I will find them first and kill them.’ Rodriquez affirmed.
‘Remember, from now on, trust no one.’ Interjected Ramona, ‘you’re on your own, a recluse.’
‘Not even you?’
‘Yes Rodriquez, not even me.'
'When I think about it,' Rodriquez said, 'what you are saying kind of makes some sense. You see, that crazy priest Aurelio said something quite similar to me.'
'What did he say to you?' She asked letting go of his face.
'He said to me something like my soul was in grave danger and that Hell’s armies would be unleashed to find me. He also said some souls here on earth were my guardians, and that I should trust no one because even amongst them, the enemy lurks.'
‘By the way’ Ramona said changing the subject, ‘Miguel was up to something else. I brought with me the manila folder he was holding onto and its contents are startling. He and Marcelo had already made contact with the FARC rebels in Columbia to deliver the SAMs’.’
‘This has nothing to do with me.’ Interjected Rodriquez, ‘Honestly, I’ve been through enough already.’
‘I’m not asking you to come with me Rodrigo. I will deliver those SAMs’ myself.’
‘You’re kidding!’ he said holding both her arms.
‘No am not.’ She replied. ‘The FARC are holding someone very dear to me hostage for a very long time now and this is my opportunity to extract him.’
‘Look Ramona, Columbia is a totally different ball game, and you’ll be playing with the big boys.’
A sharp loud buzz from Rodriquez’ phone cut into their conversation.
‘Sorry I have to take this.’ Rodriquez said reaching to take the phone.
‘Rodriquez’, Antonio Francisco Oliviera’s pitchy voice came into the phone. Rodriquez held his breath, images of his boss’ angry expression flushed across his mind.
‘Yes Delegado,’ answered Rodriquez, not sure what to expect from the other end of the line.
‘Find a teli, watch the news, and I damn hope you had nothing to do with any of this crazy stuff I’m watching!’
In the next few seconds, Rodriquez and Ramona were in the living room glued to Rede Globo morning’s News Bulletin.
A small war took place last week in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, between Brazilian forces and hundreds of drug traffickers holed up in the shantytown complex of complexo do alemão. After recent efforts by officials to pacify rio's drug and gang-related violence, drug gangs struck out last week – attacked police stations and staged mass robberies. After days of preparation, Brazilian security forces launched a raid inside the complexo do alemão, where between 700 and 800 drug traffickers were holed up. At least 47 people were killed in the violence that has rocked the city.
In a related incident, sad news has gripped citizens of rio de janeiro after reports that senior superintendent Miguel Almeida, secretary of public security died last night from a single gunshot to the head as he paid a visit to Christ the redeemer statue. According to police, Secretary Miguel Almeida is believed to have been shot by Alfonzo Marcelo, leader of the notorious amigos dos amigos drug trafficking gang. Marcelo had earlier during the week escaped from custody while en route to a maximum prison where he was awaiting trial for several murder and kidnap charges. Alfonzo Marcelo remains at large. A relatively large number of arrests have been made in the wake of secretary Miguel's murder and authorities warn of further arrests as they continue to hunt for the amigos dos amigos gang leader. Up next is today’s weather forecast with Barbosa Cardoso.
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I wish to take this opportunity to thank you once again for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please do encourage your family and friends to read it too. You might also spare some time to leave me a review at your favorite retailer.
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nbsp; I thank you in advance
Very warm and Kind regards,
Walibba .J. Philip
About me:
I love to read and write about many things. It's my passion. I love to paint too, abstract art, It's my other love. I love to listen, to what others have to say. It puts life into perspective. I love life, it's the greatest gift of all. What about you, what do you say about yourself? Let me know.
I am currently working on some other Titles:
Recluse: The Ramona Question
Michigan fall
Boundless
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