Pretenses (23 page)

“Ms. Warren was a former girlfriend I paid off to have an abortion. I had told Sean to break it off with her. I have always had big plans for him. I wasn't about to let a little thing like love stand in the way of acquiring 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“I see; and Sterling Wise handled the Warren family for you?”

She nodded. “He didn't tell you any of this? I'm surprised. When Coco made the attempt on his life, I thought he'd spill his guts. A huge mistake on my part. Had I known he would keep his mouth shut, I never would have targeted him.”

“So Cynthia Charles and Chase Davenport were killed for nothing?” I asked in amazement.

“Apparently so,” she said in a ho-hum tone. “People say a lot of things to their lovers. I tell Winston everything in bed. It is our most intimate time together. I assumed that most people told their lovers their secrets. I was wrong in Sterling's case.”

I shook my head in disgust. “Do you realize a woman was killed today in front of her child because of your family skeletons?”

“Coco did that on her own. I told her to stop the killings. I wanted to speak with you to see if we could come to some sort of accommodation.”

I didn't mean to, but I laughed in her face, which hurt like hell. The woman had killed repeatedly and thought that an accommodation could be reached with the FBI? This was insanity.

“You don't kill people for the presidency,” I told her.

“Really,” she said, skeptically. “You still believe that after what you've learned so far? You already have corruption at the highest levels of government. Look at the list of people who've been killed. Clayton Pockets was killed because he was trying to blackmail me. That degenerate gambler was so deep in debt that he was on the verge of selling government secrets to China. If I hadn't stepped in, who knows what the enemies of this country would have acquired from the NSA Director.

“Director Pockets had gotten the information from Gordon Scott, the NSA communications tech. He was doing a favor for your father, who sold the information to Jericho, Sterling Wise's older brother, a notorious drug and munitions dealer in the Cayman Islands. When I learned who leaked the information to Jericho, I offered your father a business opportunity to keep this information quiet. The business you own thrives because of my generosity.”

“None of the people you killed did anything to deserve death,” I said with righteous indignation. “And even if they had, who gave you the right to judge?”

“Haven't you judged Coco Nimburu?” she asked. “Is she worthy of death?”

“What about your sister and Senator Blevins?” I asked, avoiding the question.

“I'll just say this, Agent Perry. My being black and pretending to be white was expedient—a means to an end. I was very beautiful in my youth, and men of all races wanted me. I was one of a few women who realized that sex was the great equalizer in a male-dominated society. My father was white, but society said I was black. I have no problem with being black, but looking white offered far more advantages. I could go places that most blacks couldn't. It was easy to blend in with whites in college.”

“Is that where you met Senator Blevins? In college?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes. Martha Blevins and I were like two peas in a pod. We shared everything, exchanged clothes, and drank out of the same glass. Martha introduced me to Jason in college. I didn't know I was going to fall in love with her brother. When Jason told her he wanted to marry me, she was
genuinely happy for us. But I hadn't told Jason I was black. I toyed with the idea of never telling him. He would never know the difference. I didn't mean to deceive him. My race just wasn't an issue until he asked me to marry him.

“I agonized over the decision and decided that if he had a problem with my being black, he wasn't the man of my dreams. When I told him, he was shocked, but his feelings hadn't changed. He told me we could never tell anyone the truth. I agreed. He trusted Martha, and so did I. So we told her together. The look of disgust on her face said it all. She no longer wanted to have anything to do with me. Jason was as shocked by her reaction as I was. They argued and didn't speak to each other for months.

“Jason and I eloped, fearing that Martha would eventually tell their parents. She never did, but she did everything in her power to make my life miserable. On holidays and at family dinners, she would tell black jokes at the table, knowing I would have to go along or reveal the truth. The jokes wounded me deeply. It felt as if someone had stuck a dagger in my heart and twisted it. I pretended the jokes were funny like everyone else, but I was dying inside.”

“What about Judge Taylor? Why would you have your own sister killed?”

“She wouldn't listen to reason. Jennifer's been stubborn all of her life. I asked her to keep quiet about being Sean's aunt. She refused and threatened to go public the moment he announced his intention to run for the presidency. She could never see the big picture, haranguing me about the evils of slavery and how Sean could be living proof that the one-drop rule was just as absurd today as it was when the colonies adopted it four hundred years ago.

“Jennifer really believed Sean's true ancestry wouldn't stand in the way of gaining the highest office in the land. I know better. If people knew he was black, it would ruin his chances of winning the Oval Office. People would come up with carefully constructed arguments to persuade the American public not to take him seriously as a presidential candidate. They would ask questions like, ‘How can we trust a man who has hidden who he is all of his life?' Or they'd say, ‘If he's ashamed of who he is, how
can he represent the country honorably?' You know I'm right, Phoenix.

“Believe me, I'm not the first person to kill in order to gain political power. What do you think the CIA is all about? The average American sticks his head in the proverbial sand when it comes to what we do to other countries. Then they wonder why we have so many enemies. Do you really think the Iranians would have dared take hostages if we hadn't backed the Shah? Do you think any president's hands are clean? We're constantly overthrowing governments and setting up dictators we can control. If that means killing people to achieve that end, we do it. It's that simple.”

I had to admit she was making a lot of sense, but I wasn't persuaded in the slightest. She was going to jail, but I needed to know if Sean had been in on her murderous campaign. If he wasn't, I saw no reason to drag him into it.

“Does your son know you're committing murder to further his political ambitions?” I asked.

“No. Sean is completely in the dark,” she said. “I'm his mother. I have to look out for his best interests.”

I heard a shuriken whistle through the air and then a sudden gasp behind me. I turned around and saw the surprised look on Winston's face before he fell dead to the carpeted floor. He'd had a silenced gun pointed at the back of my head. Adrienne reached into her desk and pulled out a revolver, but it was too late. Another shuriken whistled past my ear and sank deeply into her head. Coco Nimburu ran out of the office and I chased her.

A
S
I
BOLTED
through the outer office door, I saw Coco running down the hallway. She took the exit stairs. I was right behind her. I could hear her laughing as we ran up several flights of stairs.

“Having fun yet, Phoenix?” Coco's voice echoed in the stairwell.

Severe pain shot through my jaw as I ran up flight after flight. I finally made it to the roof. Apparently, she wanted the battle to take place there. Opening the door cautiously, I saw Coco Nimburu waiting for me. I stepped onto the roof and caught my breath.

“You know they were going to kill you, don't you?” Coco asked calmly. She was wearing a black ninja uniform. “You owe me your life.”

“You sure you wanna do this?” I asked her. Strangely, the pain in my jaw seemed to have lessened. I sharpened my focus and was ready for anything.

“I didn't spare your life for nothing,” Coco said grimly. Her sense of humor was gone. “Weapons?” She opened a black case with red velvet interior, which contained swords, shuriken, and other weapons in it.

I shook my head and walked to within five feet of her. “Is there anything else I should know?” I asked.

“Your family's at home and safe,” Coco assured me. “You'll be getting a package soon.”

“A package?” I asked, as we bowed to each other. As we circled each other, we talked to each other like old school chums, yet we were about to engage in hand-to-hand combat to the death. Unlike in the movies, a martial art challenge does not take long. A real life duel never does.

“You'll understand when you get it,” Coco said. “Use your best judgment, my sister.”

With lightning speed, Coco kicked at my head. I was light on my feet, which enabled me to avoid the powerful blow. Moving forward, I began with a token lead kick designed to distract her. It was quick and powerful, but token nevertheless. She blocked it with ease just as I knew she would, but left herself open for a perfectly timed reverse hook kick to the head. The blow dazed her long enough for me to follow up with three rapid roundhouse kicks to her head. Coco fell to the ground and shook the cobwebs away.

“I can't believe I fell for that weak kick,” Coco said and stood to her feet. Before I knew it, she was on the offensive, throwing kicks and strikes from every direction. I blocked them all, but she was able to set me up with a token strike, too. She back-fisted me, then spun around and kicked me in the head. I fell to the ground.

I got up quickly and riposted. Coco was a master martial artist, too. With the exception of being blindsided in the bar I had just left, no one had knocked me down since I had left the tutelage of Ying Ming Lo—at least when I was ready. The guy in the bar had gotten lucky. Back on my toes, I was moving with purpose again, determined to whittle down her defense first, and then destroy her.

Suddenly, I sensed a hostile presence other than Coco on the roof, and I thought I knew who it was. What was he waiting for? I wondered. Why was he lurking in the shadows?

We engaged in a series of attacks. After each series, I kicked Coco in the leg. Nothing powerful but enough to hurt and distract. We engaged again, and I briefly looked at the leg I had kicked before initiating my attack. She thought I was going to kick her there again. Instead, I feinted with my left leg. When she attempted to block it, she was wide open. I kicked her hard with the right. She was hurt, and I moved in, throwing a leftrightleft combination and finishing with a powerful kick to the head that put Coco on her ass again.

Coco stood to her feet, but staggered a little. Still dazed, she grabbed a sword from the black case and came after me with it. She wasn't ready
to die after all, I thought. I did several reverse somersaults to get away from her. She came after me, swinging the sharp blade. I was near the edge of the roof with nowhere to go but down. Coco pointed the sword at me and said, “I guess you weren't good enough after all. Tell God I said hello and I'll see him later.”

She drew the sword back to swing it like a baseball bat. The sight of someone swinging a sword at them would have paralyzed most people. But I knew it was my only chance to escape. Just before she brought the blade forward, I quickly moved forward and kicked her in the head. Then I somersaulted over to the weapons case.

I grabbed a sword to defend myself. I wanted to grab a shuriken or two to throw at the presence I felt once I dispensed with Coco, but I didn't have time. She was coming after me again. We engaged in a series of thrusts and parries. The sound of the blades colliding was loud—sparks flew. I stayed on the offensive, looking for the one opening that would give me an opportunity to end the battle.

We engaged again. This time I kicked her in the right leg again. Each time I kicked her, she grew angrier. Just as my anger had dulled my senses and led to a broken jaw, her anger would hasten her death. I was sure Coco was not aware of the presence on the roof. Otherwise, she would have tried to kill the intruder, I thought.

My constant kicks to her leg reduced her mobility. She was limping a little, but still dangerous. We engaged again, and I feinted at the now-injured leg. She protected the leg, leaving her self open again, and I kicked her in the head. She went down. This time she was slow getting up.

Somehow, she found the strength and attacked furiously, but I was in control now. Coco Nimburu was mine. Patiently, I blocked each attack effortlessly. When I felt she was at the end of her attack, I blocked the strike and hit her in the head with the handle of my sword. The blow dazed her, and with one clean slice I took her head before she had a chance to riposte.

I had been merciless, just like she wanted me to be. For a second or two, she just stood there looking at me—vacant eyed—frozen in time. Then her head fell off her shoulders. Her lifeless body clasped. The nightmare was over. The great Coco Nimburu was dead.

B
LOOD WAS EVERYWHERE
. I looked down at the body of the woman who had murdered my father and my students and felt remorse—even though I knew killing Coco Nimburu was the only way to stop her murderous rampage. I thought her death would bring me some measure of satisfaction, but it didn't. I could feel the intruder's presence even more strongly now that Coco was dead.

As I walked over to the weapons case, I kept wondering what the intruder was waiting for. I stooped and looked into the case. The silver shuriken sparkled in the moonlight. I picked up one of the perfectly balanced weapons and realized it had been used to save my life several times that very night. I slipped one in my jacket pocket.

It had occurred to me that someone other than Michelson was on Adrienne Bellamy's payroll. How else had Coco Nimburu known where the safe house was? Michelson had been murdered before I had told Agent James to move my family. Michelson couldn't have told her where the new safe house was.