Paradise - Part Four (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) (5 page)

“So why didn’t you bring him in from the start?”

“We thought it’d be easier to approach you if it was just one of us.”

“Thought I’d more likely say
yes
to one than two. I admit it’s intelligent of you.”

“I’ll bring him in, shall I?”

“No. Make him wait in the car.”

I said this mostly to retain a measure of control in the situation. I felt a little out of my depth to begin with. I didn’t want to feel more intimidated facing two of them this early on instead of one.

“Sure. Any reason why specifically?”

“Because I told you to. I’m already doing you a favor. If we warm up more in the future perhaps then you can bring him in. I’m still not entirely comfortable given the situation.”

“Understood. It may present some problems in the future—with Bureau protocol and all—but this is an unusual case that may give cause for unusual procedures.”

“Good.” I paused, sizing him up. “You must be top of your field given a case like this.”

“You flatter.”

“I’m serious.”

“I do alright. I’ll get a little more into my background later on—as we build rapport.”

Suddenly I had the odd thought of what it would be like to bed him and what a tool seduction might be with him should some unknown future circumstance require it. Looking at his ugly body and face, I hoped it would never come to that.

“Mr. Carter—”

“Call me Glenn, please.”

He smiled.

“Glenn, look. You seem to know a lot about my affairs, but you can’t tell me everything. Why is that? Would I have to submit a FOIA request?”

He looked surprised.

“You would probably be able to find out most things with a FOIA request. The Freedom of Information Act is—well, you know what it is.”

“Something you don’t like very much I take it.”

“I didn’t say that. And I haven’t really dealt in many cases where someone would take a FOIA request out on my activities. No, I may safely say, you’d be the first. Let me spare you the necessity of the request. May I speak to you off the record, Ms. Durant?”

“Sophia.”

“Sophia?”

“You may.”

“I must put it like this. We may or may not know certain things through certain channels which we’ve had to put our own sort of FOIA requests in to get.”

“You mean
subpoenas
.”

“Technically speaking—yes.”

“You got my phone records, email, et cetera.”

“I can’t confirm or deny any of that.”

“I’ll take that as a
yes
.”

“Take it in what sense you will. Nonetheless hear my meaning behind it.”

“Which is…” I was growing impatient.

“Which is…I’d be very careful if I were you.”

“Is that a threat, Glenn?”

“No. More of a…preamble if you will. I’m trying to help you.”

“I’m not scared of the government.”

“Let’s hope you have no reason to be.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Then you will help us without a hitch.”

“I will. And I am more than happy to.”

“And that brings us to the core of what we came here to discuss—the heart of the matter.”

“This is what I’ve been waiting for.” I shifted in my chair.

“Good.”

Special Agent Glenn Carter’s Notes

November 2, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

It was in the course of the second meeting that I got into the mission I had for Ms. Durant. I must take a brief aside to jot down a few comments on the quality of the woman. She is very sharp, has a keen memory, and is highly knowledgeable in many subjects. Her highly attractive physicality is sometimes something of a distraction. But the more I am around her, the less I notice it. As to her knowledge, I was surprised for instance that she knew what a FOIA was. How many women of twenty-six years know that? She also appears to be very well read and knowledgeable of current events. According to her file, she knows something of computers given a background in computer science at college. But we do not know more than this. I shall endeavor to discover her mastery of this field further in future. Talking to her on these two first occasions, I am convinced she is not capable of murder. I suppose anyone could commit murder in the right circumstances, but I see no evidence of this with regards to her. Even so, there are many unknowns regarding the case. We now know that she placed a call to Emma Green within hours of her “accident” on the boat. That would have been Tuesday, October 7
th
. As to the deaths of Ava Madeiros and Madison Conway, there is no direct connection to Sophia Durant. As to motivation for Mr. Stafford to have any of them killed; there is none. It is also being brought into question among some folks at the Bureau whether or not Mr. Stafford would have had any cause to wish to see the plane carrying his wife go down, leading to her tragic death in the Atlantic on August 12
th
. Are all these deaths, falling upon each other in rapid succession as they have, merely coincidental? Does lightning strike so many times all in the same place? Sometimes it does.

This is why it is necessary for Ms. Durant to go ahead with our plan. At the very least she can shed light on the, until now, very unknown situation behind the high walls and in the towers of the kingdom that is the life of Mark Stafford. I did finally get across to Ms. Durant the first steps in her mission of observation in our second meaning. I will try to reconstruct from memory what was said.

“Let’s discuss the heart of the matter,” I said, somewhat apprehensively. I was mostly worried she would balk at our plans and we would have to try a new route to coerce her.

“Good,” she replied, eager to get on with it as was I.

“We need you to try to point us in the right direction when it comes to his communications regarding his operations overseas. His business affairs.”

“You think I have access to that sort of information, do you? You think he just leaves all that sort of thing lying around?”

She was indignant. I don’t know if it was because she felt I’d made a stupid remark, or because she was hiding something.

“We are aware that some relationship exists between you in which he has made you aware of these aspects of his life. Yes. In that, we want you to dig deeper. We know you can do this. And we are willing to help.”

“Help how?”

“By supplying various technology to retrieve that information. Also, by schooling you somewhat in what to look for, what sort of language to listen out for, things you might be able to find on his desk. Anything. Details, details, details. You understand?”

She thought about it, bit her lip, and, finally, she nodded.

Sophia Durant’s Diary

November 4, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

I had bugged Special Agent Carter’s phone via Bluetooth and from that I had gained access to his personal computer when he connected the two. I now had access to all his personal calls, emails, texts, et cetera—and to a document titled “Special Agent Glenn Carter’s Notes” that lay studiously on the desktop of his computer. I opened it and had a quick read through while I sunned myself on Stafford’s private beach. I quickly caught up on the background of the Stafford case. I was interested to read a rendering of our second encounter dated November 2
nd
. I was mainly struck by his admission to obtaining phone records. I had expected it, but to see it there in gleaming black and white pixels gave me chills. I didn’t quite know why—at least I didn’t articulate my thoughts. But that was it—it meant war. I plotted my course. I would use electronic forms of espionage to turn the investigation back on itself. Inevitably they would do things wrong in the course of their investigation—they’re human—and I would endeavor to find out what these violations were, I would invert the investigation and collapse it in the process. I made my mind up then and there to confide in Stafford. I hadn’t seen him since my first meeting with Carter, he was away on a business trip, but I would see him tonight and there I would lay it out for him. If nothing else, the man was a brilliant planner; hence the source of his “staggering fortune.” If in fact he was a criminal, especially on the scale the FBI thought he was, then he was a brilliant evader of the authorities as well. Still, I was surprised by the lax state of the measures of personal security he took in regard to his affairs—though evidently the FBI thought him a tough nut to crack.

After the last meeting with Carter I decided to wipe the hard drive of any computers I had stored my diary on. I now only stored it in a very well hidden spot online. The document itself is heavily encrypted and there would be no traces on any of my machines of having accessed it—nor even of how to access it. I did this all in the event of any foolish attempt by the FBI to detain
me or confiscate my devices. I was prepared for any eventuality. In the course of the afternoon I formulated a plan for dealing with Special Agent Glenn Carter and his ilk.

Sophia Durant’s Diary

November 5, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

I saunter up to Stafford’s bedroom a few minutes past nine o’clock. I wear a hooded robe over the Gorean attire of a
camisk
. I look forward to a night of sensual adventure as well as discussing the approaching net of the FBI.

In the room I find the waterfalls and fountains flowing and the grandmaster of deception himself robed, sitting at the end of the bed with a chalice of wine. He picks up a second chalice off an end table and hands it to me. I swallow the contents of the chalice and hand it back to him. Then I untie the neck of the robe and let it fall to the floor. I turn around and walk the length of the room, hips forward, as though I’m on the catwalk. At the end of the stroll I look at him before I take a bow. He smiles at me and removes his robe to reveal the fact that he’s wearing nothing underneath.

Chapter 15

Sophia Durant’s Diary (continued)

He stands up, chiseled abs glistening in the light, and walks forward. I back away with an inviting smile. I glance down. His cock throbs and bounces slightly with every step, fully erect. I can feel the sticky juice flowing down my inner thigh. He could glide it in at any moment and it would feel smooth and comfortable. Not to mention,
ecstatic
. I lust after it. Before I know it I hit a wall behind. I lean my head back against it. He leans in and puts one finger to my wet labia. He runs the finger between the lips, round the clit and to the hole. He puts his fingertip inside. Then he takes it out and touches my inner thighs.

“You’ve missed me,
kajira
.”

“You’re my
kajira
.” I smile.

“Maybe.” He doesn’t smile.

He lifts one of my legs and touches the head of his cock to my labia. He rubs it around the lips and finds the hole. I feel a surge of energy as it slides in. He pumps. I bounce, riding him. He parts the open neck of the
camisk
to expose my breasts, which drape in the cold air before him. He grips my breasts and squeezes and massages them as he pumps me. He is slow in every respect except for the thrust—that comes quick and hard, and I bounce in ecstasy. We lose ourselves in the waves upon waves of dreamlike current flowing through us. Any concept of time disappears. I know this can go on indefinitely. He is the master of stamina. Every woman’s dream. And I own him. Every last bit from head to toe. The height of ecstasy achieved is enough to make one think she has found the purpose of life. I struggle to stay standing and remain conscious. I tell him I can’t take it anymore standing up and he relents. Though only long enough for me to get down on my hands and knees. Then he finds the spot again and puts it in. My fluid is seeping down my legs. My breasts hang from my chest like two weights, pulling my chest toward the floor. He grabs them and pulls them up into my chest, massaging them some more. As he fucks me, I remove the
camisk
the rest of the way from my body, knowing my nudity will inflame his passion further. I gyrate my hips as my lips suck him and pull him in like steel to a magnet. A few moments more and I’m floating, charting a course in golden fields of bliss. Every time I am with him I feel more dominant and in control. At times—while fucking—I feel myself to be the most powerful being in the multiverse; the absolute controller of all things. It is as though a hidden power seeps in through him, empowering me wildly, exulting me above all. I am, in those times, a monster of energy—immaculate, immortal, perfect.

Stafford and I sat on the bed, still fully nude, drinking more wine and watching the stars out over the sea and an electrical storm on the horizon. I leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“We have to go somewhere out of earshot of any electronic devices.”

He nodded and motioned for me to get dressed.

Not five minutes later we were walking along his private beach in the moonlight.

“There’s something I have to tell you, but I don’t know where to start.” I broke the silence uneasily.

“You’re pregnant.” He joked.

“No.”

He looked at me.

“I’ve come across something—or rather it came across me.”

“What?”

“The FBI.”

He was silent for a moment, then, “I know they spy on me. What about it?”

“But do you know
how much
they spy on? What
means
they’re using?”

“Electronic, I’m sure. That’s how you came across them, right?”

“Not exactly.”

“This is starting to sound more serious than…” He trailed off.

“One of them approached me in the supermarket in Governor’s Harbour. I had coffee with him. Then I met him again.”

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“It was only very recent. You were gone. I didn’t want to attract attention over electronic communication. They’re watching that. They’re watching everything.”

“I suspected as much. That’s why I’m so vague in all electronic communication.”

“Yeah, well they find you quite the riddle. Maybe you should try to be more plain and lie outright. But perhaps it’s too late for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve hacked into my contact’s personal computer. FBI Special Agent Glenn Carter. He’s said quite a bit about the case in a journal he keeps.”

“What specifically are they after?”

“It’s about the dead women, on the one hand. But I feel that above all it’s about your business.”

“What do they think I’m doing?”

“Arms dealing.”

He was silent.

“I don’t care what you’re doing. I care about you, and I have a…dislike for them.”

He looked at me. In the light, or lack thereof, I couldn’t read his expression.

“What kind of connections have they formed between me and the dead girls?”

“As far as I can tell, tenuous ones at best.”

“This still isn’t good. I didn’t kill them. But those cocksuckers will twist anything around to implicate someone. They want me for the money, and because they don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” I said in a soft voice.

“You’ve done so much for me. And, honestly, who else do I have to confide in? I feel very strongly about you, not just infatuation—which is there—but as a loyal and trusted friend.”

I was surprised by his openness and the confirmation of feelings I had suspected all along.

“What about you? How do you feel?” he asked after a moment’s silence.

“When I’m with you I feel…I feel that the world is mine, and nothing can be wrong.”

“You share my feelings…”

“Something like them.”

“
Something like them
.”

“No two people can ever have exactly the same feelings.”

“So you aren’t…you don’t feel towards me…”

“Yes, yes—I do. I’m just saying it’s different for me than it is for you.”

“Well, of course.”

“I just wanted to find a way around saying it directly.”

“I see. You’re embarrassed.”

“Yes and no.
Yes
because who wouldn’t be the first time it comes up.
No
because I knew you knew all along. At least, I thought you did.”

“I did. I think.”

We walked on in silence for a time.

“Shit—it must be bad if they’ve come here. How many of them are there immediately assigned to me—how many here?”

“I don’t know. At least two. Probably more.”

He grunted and sighed.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“What’s the man like?”

“Carter…he’s very unusual, half-Peruvian. He’s odd, very quick, observant, suspicious of everyone. He’s got a unibrow like Bert from Sesame Street. He shaves it in the middle but the shaved bit is slightly grown out.”

He laughed. The wind kicked up and thunder cracked in the distance.

“We better get inside soon,” Stafford said, observing the horizon. “No talk of this inside of course—seeing as they might have bugged the fucking villa. Those stupid motherfuckers.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’ll give it a night to think it over then we’ll take a stroll in the morning and discuss it. What do you think I should do?”

“You’re a powerful man—the extent of your powers I don’t fully know…”

“Going on what you do know…”

“Find a way to turn the investigation back on them. A way to flush it out for good.”

“Let’s argue this briefly to see what our options are.”

“Go for it.”

“To turn the investigation back on the individual agents involved would just result in the FBI resorting to other agents, would it not?”

“Possibly.”

“
Possibly
. What other possibilities are there in that scenario?”

“You publicly embarrass them. Make it look like they are needlessly harassing an upstanding citizen. Also make sure it is impossible for them to get anything on you. Make them bungle their case. Then publicly embarrass them about that too. Make it political.”

“I like the way you think, Sophia.”

“Thank you.”

“I couldn’t ask for a better partner…”

“…In crime?”

“I better tell you some things.”

“I don’t need to know what you do.”

“You can probably already guess.”

“That they’re right…?”

“I need you to figure out what information they’re actually going on. Can you do that for me?”

“No problem.”

“You sound like you have a few cards up your sleeve.”

“The fact that I can go through Carter’s journal is a major one, I’d say.”

“That’s awesome. But I need to be sure you’re on my team. How do I know you’re not working for them? Or at least playing both sides…?”

“You don’t. But you will. Believe me when I say…we’ll crush them together.”

“That’s exactly my feeling.”

“I do feel in a position of strength, but at the same time—we can’t underestimate Carter and his team. He’s an intelligent man. And to underestimate him could be to hand it to him.”

“You’re exactly right. Like I said, I’ll think on it tonight and we’ll discuss it in the morning.”

Special Agent Glenn Carter’s Journal

November 9, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

While I feel Ms. Durant is a tough nut to crack, I also feel that she will unwittingly point us in the right direction. The truth is on our side, so to speak. Mr. Stafford’s business will go on, there will be more clues, and events will unfold, however miniscule, that will point us in the right direction. Remember, no detail is too small, nothing is insignificant. Ms. Durant will lead us to hard evidence of what is reported by various sources to be Mr. Stafford’s unfortunate line of business. STF will connect the nodes, determine their interactions and therein discover the illicit details of the trade that leads to more unwarranted bloodshed than any other. For now I need to devise a scheme to get us closer to his operations, something Ms. Durant can be a part of. I have a few possibilities in mind. I will narrow them before next time I see her.

Thinking of her, I find her highly desirable, very attractive, but I will push this to the back of my mind while I deal with the problem at hand. Ms. Durant, you will not be expecting the puzzle I put you up to next.

Sophia Durant’s Diary

November 10, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas

I found the last enigmatic entry one sunny morning while sitting down to a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen. The weather outside was cold and dark, and I hunched over the table as I read through Carter’s latest musings. What was he going to put me up to that I would not be aware of?
How did he intend to ensnare me? What was this puzzle he mentioned? Also, what did STF stand for? All I could come up with was
Stafford Task Force
, but I couldn’t imagine them using a moniker as corny as that. As I contemplated STF, my phone buzzed with a new text message. To my surprise, it was him.

GLENN: I would like to meet you at a location of your choosing at the soonest possible convenience.

SOPHIA: How’s the famous beach with the pink sand in two hours? You know the one I mean…?

GLENN: Dunmore Town?

SOPHIA: Correct.

I walked in the pink sand perhaps overly cautious of my every move. I knew I was being watched in one form or another and it gave the distinct impression that I was an actor in a film. It was an international crime drama in which the stakes were very high, a secret battle was being waged between a criminal mastermind and the top agents of the FBI. My character was a
node
, right in the middle of it all. Not far from the truth, I thought. I knew that outwardly I would have to appear to be abiding by the law in every sense or risk getting tripped up in a court case later on. At the same time I resolved to help Stafford beat the FBI at every turn, out-maneuver them with every move. I came down from the fog of these lofty thoughts to see Carter approach me on the beach. I found his trench coat absurd. It made him stick out like a sore thumb. The wind was pounding us and I cupped one ear in an effort to hear him.

“Can we get inside? This weather is crazy.”

We sat down for coffee in a restaurant called Pink Tuna. I’d noticed a shadow in a similar trench coat to Carter’s following us. He didn’t come inside the restaurant at first.