The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 11

They curled up together on the bed. Shawna lay nearby in the carriage, fast asleep.

Shawn leaned into Susan and kissed the left side of her face just behind the ear, "You've got great ears."

Susan wasn't thinking about her ears. She knew it was time to share the pain, "Shawn there's something I've got to tell you."

"Can't it wait? I want some more nookie." He started rubbing those rounded heart shaped ass cheeks of hers.

"No it can't wait. It's important."

Shawn teased her neck and the under part of her chin with his index finger, "Look let's eat, make love, and you can tell me on the way to New York."

"I'm not going to New York. You know that."

"I thought it over. I've changed my mind. I think we should both go to New York together. I'll tell my supervisor. It'll be all right."

Shawn was nervous and had said everything so fast Susan had trouble keeping up, but it didn't matter, she knew the gist of it, "No I'm staying here. You're going to New York."

"Look," said Shawn, "It'll be all right. I'll call my boss, and he'll OK it, no problem."

Susan answered him, "No it won't be all right. You're to go to New York. You're to testify at the UN. There's something I have to do here first."

"Yeah, what do you have to do that's so important it would keep us apart?"

"I have a new job. I go for my entry interview this afternoon." Susan had to be careful.

"A Job, you don't need to work anymore. I'll take care of everything." Shawn didn't like the sound of things. He was suspicious.

"Yes I have a job. It's an important one; the opportunity of a lifetime."

Shawn was really put off, "I'm your opportunity of a lifetime, not any job."

Susan wouldn't, couldn't, relent, "In a manner of speaking this job is about you, me, Shawna, and everything we want."

Shawn smelled a rat, "Whose been talking to you?"

"If I tell you, promise you won't get mad."

"I won't get mad, I promise." He was lying.

Susan decided to tell him, "I've been talking to Sam Houston."

Shawn was caught completely off guard, and it made him absolutely furious. He resorted to the tried and; sarcasm, "Hell Susan, he's been dead over one hundred and fifty years. Nobody talks to him anymore."

Inside he was digesting what she said. If she'd been talking to Sam, then something was brewing, it was probably serious, certainly dangerous, and he was certain it had everything to do with him. "Who does he want you to go to work for?"

Susan could answer that without tricking anybody, "The government."

Shawn knew she was sidestepping the truth, "Don't play any of your lawyer's tricks," He grabbed her arms, pushed her down on the bed, and forced her to look at him, "Who are you really going to work for?"

Susan had an out, "Let go. You're hurting me."

He let go, "I'm sorry; tell me what this is all about, and don't try and fool me, I'll know right away."

She put her hands up and around his neck. She tickled his right ear, "you're still in some danger.' She'd almost slipped and said 'great danger'. "Warrant Officer Houston knows I can use my legal skills and connections in various law offices to dig up certain information that will free you, and me, from any possibility of danger, especially as it relates to certain kinds of criminal behavior."

"What are you talking about? What criminal behavior? What kind of danger are you referring to?" Shawn wasn't as sure as he'd been just a few seconds earlier. Susan might actually have something.

Susan had started lying; no sense in stopping now, "You're alleged to have killed certain people. The CID," She paused for effect, "Don't tell me you didn't work for the government. You know I know that now."

Shawn replied, "OK."

"People in CID know who you killed and who you didn't, but they can't tell the FBI directly. That would blow peoples covers and unravel active investigations." She thought she had him, "Warrant Officer Houston wants to use my skills since I'm an outsider regarding CID, but an insider when it comes to what you did and didn't do. I can do the research, ask the questions, and put the pieces together so you'll be off the hook, the FBI will be happy, and CID will be protected."

Shawn was actually starting to believe her, "It sort of makes a little sense, but I still don't know why somebody else couldn't do it."

Susan leaned up and kissed him, "I think Mr. Houston wants to punish you a little bit."

"Me? Why?"

"Come on Shawn," Susan pretended to scoff, "Even I know you've been something of a loose cannon these past few months. Give Mr. Houston his due. He wants to put you in your place before he sends you off again."

Shawn asked, "Are you lying to me?"

"No Shawn, I'm not lying to you. Mr. Houston called me in, and we had a long talk. He's worried about your state of mind. He wants to keep you out of the way in New York: you know with a UN clearance so the FBI can't touch you, while I save your scrawny ass."

"There's no chance of you getting hurt?"

"Not a chance."

"And you're working for?"

Susan kissed him, "You first, then Officer Houston, and last the government."

"You can't get hurt?"

"Well I could go cross eyed reading the computer."

"How long will you be doing this?"

"Maybe four weeks, five tops."

Shawn smiled, "Can we see each other on weekends?"

Susan turned serious, "Nobody must see us together. If the FBI thought I knew you then my cover would be blown."

Shawn listened, and was processing; it all seemed to make sense. Using Susan, she's smart, knows a lot already. Sam could be punishing him, and be putting Susan in a more dominant position in their relationship. He'd be able to testify at the UN free from FBI interference. That only left Camulos, but Shawn didn't think he was a problem anymore.

Shawn kissed her neck, "I can't see you or talk to your for four maybe five weeks?"

Susan one upped him, "Hell Shawn you were in Africa, how many months?"

"OK, how about a quickie before you leave for your interview."

Susan looked at the clock, "OK."

They hopped back in the sack and did another number. Shawn wanted it to be a good one. It looked like he'd be having another dry spell. Susan wanted it too. Just in case all they'd done the night before didn't take hold, one more shot might be the one. They rolled over, kissed and hugged, and he sowed some more seed.

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Later that afternoon Susan walked Shawn to the railway station and saw him off. For all the bravado and all his past heroics, he did a lousy job saying good bye. She hated watching his eyes well up, knowing how he was suffering, but she had to take care of business.

Her next move was to meet with Todd Bitterman. According to Bitterman she was to see Camulos later that afternoon where they would discuss her responsibilities and status in his business. They were cutting the time pretty close. It looked like she'd have to take Shawna with her. She wasn't excited about it, but she didn't have day care yet.

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Kim watched quietly as Susan put Shawn on the train. Knowing where he was headed Kim opted for the next train. He'd catch back up later. In New York he'd get a chance to secretly see Kia. He had to be careful about that, since Kia might tell Shawn his was around. Maybe he better not.

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Irene left the Galleria for her mother's; who better to take care of Slattery's little girl? She figured Houston knew what he was doing selecting a local to keep watch; all the perks of local residence were in place.

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Todd Bitterman was waiting in his master's office complex. Had he known Shawn had been a scant six blocks from where he was nervously pacing he might have gotten Myron and the two of them could have taken McClellan down that very day. Though this wasn't New York, he was sure it would have caused a big enough splash to appease Camulos.

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Back in the nation's capital FBI agent Mark Miller had gotten clearance to root through all the CID files related to Shawn McClellan, alias Ophay. All this time he'd been chasing a government agent with a record that would have shamed a James Bond; McClellan was a legitimate American hero. He didn't know whether to feel honored to be included in the man's network, pissed that he'd been allowed to chase a willow the wisp for so long, or foolish for not figuring it out himself.

From now on his job was to be Susan Slattery's link with CID, and when the shit finally hit the fan, he'd be the one to close the deal. He was to get in touch and stay in touch with Slattery, but offer no support beyond information, and provide no shelter or safety if she got in over her head.

The way the memo from Houston read, the Slattery woman was probably going to wind up dead. He wasn't to get involved with her work or offer any succor until the final showdown, if then. He felt sorry for her. It looked like she was the sacrificial lamb they were using to trap Camulos and any other bigger fish they might be able to reel in. He thought about it. He'd hate to be a scapegoat, a stalking horse, somebody used as bait, that was what she'd become.

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In the Pentagon Houston read the text from Irene. Hers was one of the most important jobs in the whole operation. If they could get Camulos and keep Susan alive; what with she and Shawn, the CID would have the best one two punch they'd had in years. He'd planned on putting Shawn out to pasture, still would if Susan was killed, but if they got what they wanted and got her out alive that would be great, not very likely, but really great.

He remembered what Joseph Stalin, one time dictator of the Soviet Union had said when asked about all the murders he'd ordred, "If you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs." It would be too bad if Susan turned out to be one of the broken eggs.

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Susan took a taxi north to the hotel where she was to meet with Bitterman and Camulos. She got there a little early, and found Todd waiting for her, "Susan, you're early."

"Yes, I had an errand to run in the neighborhood so I thought I'd just come straight up." She shifted Shawna from one arm to another, "I had to bring my baby."

Todd looked at the little girl, "I'm sure it won't make any difference. This is only an entry interview. The boss will want to explain your responsibilities, and then probably let you go."

"I hope so. I need to find some day care, and I want to do some shopping."

Todd took Susan's arm and walked her to the elevator, "Come on, let's go ahead and see if we can get in now."

Together they rode the elevator to the appropriate floor. The door opened and they stepped into a dimly lighted anteroom. There was a wall phone. Todd picked it up and punched in a three digit code. Someone on the other end must have said something because Todd started to speak, "Hello, this is Todd Bitterman here with Ms. Slattery to see Mr. Camulos." He turned to Susan, "He's busy, but he'll only be a minute."

They stood, waiting expectantly for about ten minutes before the door that opposed the elevator opened and they were met by a tall grim looking middle aged man.

Susan was taken aback by the man who greeted them. She could tell right away he was older looking than his actual years. His face was pock marked with ancient acne scars, and he was scarred under his left eye.

She reflected on Shawn's scar; his lent his face an aura of mystery, and the hint of danger. This man's scar was different; where he might have been handsome once it made him look ugly. She thought it must be a painful reminder of something terribly unpleasant.

The man made no effort to be polite. Ignoring Todd he looked at Susan, "This way." He turned, and without looking back started down another dark hallway.

Susan, ambivalent about the meeting already, followed in silence.

The grim faced man led her to another door and opened it. He pointed, "In there."

Susan walked through the door, carrying her baby, and feeling just a little frightened until she came upon another door. From behind this last door she heard someone, "Come in."

She walked in and saw seated at a big oak desk, smoking a huge cigar the man who'd been the source of all her and Shawn's difficulties. She walked forward, baby on one arm, hand outstretched from the other, "Good afternoon. Do you remember me? I'm Susan Slattery. We met one evening in your car."

Camulos stood and reached out to accept her greeting. He shook her hand and steered her toward a chair, "Here, sit down."

She took the proffered seat and made an opening remark, "I want to thank you for agreeing to see me, and offering me this opportunity." Before she allowed him to respond she continued, "I believe you were my savior the last time we met."

He thought, 'she's smooth', "I'm glad I could help." He went right to the chase, "Has anyone told you what I'm interested in?"

"Todd, I mean Mr. Bitterman suggested you were looking for someone with some legal skills who might serve as a kind of personal adviser."

Camulos, sitting in his big chair, more comfortable, and feeling more in control, "Yes, yes, that's about right." He glanced over at the baby, "Who's this?"

Susan held up Shawna, "This is my baby. Her name is Shawna. She's the child of my being raped by Shawn McClellan."

"May I hold her?" Camulos asked.

Susan hid her fears and handed him her child.

"I find it unusual that you would name your child after the man who raped you."

Susan was quick to respond, "I don't at all. The man was unnecessarily cruel, but, as you can see, the outcome was a perfect child. She might carry his name, but she's my baby."

Camulos held the baby gently. He had four children of his own, and though he'd never spent any real time with them he valued them. He looked at this baby. It had no such special charm for him. He thought how fragile it was. It would be so easy to take its head and crush it between his two hands, or he could swing it around by its heels smashing its brains out on the desk. He looked over at the woman.

He detected the well hidden revulsion all women felt for him. He wondered what her reaction would be if he did break this child apart in front of her.

He handed the baby back, "Beautiful little girl."

Susan watched him with trepidation. He looked like the type who wouldn't hesitate to kill an infant if he thought it would be to his advantage. She still felt the same fear she had the first time she'd met him. He wasn't altogether without charm. It was just the way he looked at her, the way he looked at her child, the sort of threatening way he held her baby, the way he carried himself, his demeanor, the underlying evil he tried so hard to conceal that initiated the loathing.

She replied, "Thank you." The she asked, "Is there anything I should do to prepare or perhaps research?"

"Not right away," Camulos answered, "I've arranged a dinner party for tomorrow night. Though strictly speaking you're only my adviser, I'd like you to go as my guest. You could get to know some of the people you'll be working with; get the lay of the land as it were."

Susan had been forewarned he'd want her as a kind of show piece; a trophy perhaps, "Is there anything in particular I should wear?"

"Something colorful, and something; how shall I say, something that will attract attention," he said.

"I see," said Susan, "something red and perhaps a little revealing."

"Precisely" was his only response.

"What time, and where?" she asked.

"I believe I have your address. A car will pick you up at 9:00. Expect to be out most of the night." He turned away, "I think that covers everything for now."

Susan knew she'd been dismissed, "Thank you," She didn't offer a hand, "Till tomorrow night."

He'd already gone on to some other project so she got up and made her way out.

As she left he continued to pretend to be involved with something else. He considered, 'I'll show her off a little at first, maybe later I'll get her in bed." He emitted a crooked little chuckle, "I wonder how she handles pain?"

Susan couldn't get out of that trap they called offices fast enough. She had to go shopping, but first she had to find day care. She started down the street toward the taxi stand. She'd get a cab home, and start to call around. As she walked along a car pulled over, the automatic window rolled down, and a woman leaned over from the driver's side, "Get a cab and take it to 2587 Maple Grove Road. Wait for me there."

Susan peered in, "Who are you?"

"I work for Sam Houston."

Susan got a cab and told him where to take her. She reflected, 'I might not be completely alone after all.'

Back in New York:

Kia and Shai were told Shawn was coming in that very afternoon. He'd be staying at the same hotel, a really posh facility right off Central Park. UN officials were setting them up nicely. Kia and Shai had already testified once, and they expected their next round of discussions and questions would include Shawn. Both had missed him terribly; first not knowing if he were alive; then discovering he'd been tortured horribly, and most recently having discovered he'd fully recovered and was on his way.

The three met at a small restaurant just a few blocks west of Times Square. Seated together at the table for the first time in weeks was both pleasurable and melancholy.

"I'm so glad you're back home Shawn. We were worried about you." Kia was glad to see Shawn. Only one other person would have made her more pleased.

Shawn held her hand, "Have you heard from Kim?"

"No! No one has!" was Kia's response.

"Don't you know what he's done?"

Shai asked, "No what?"

"Don't you know the role he's played in all our rescues?"

"We were told the International Red Crescent got wind of our disappearance, and found us through the Sudanese government," was Kia's answer.

Shawn laughed, "You've got to be kidding. Let me fill you in." For the next twenty minutes Shawn told and retold the tale of Kim's escape west to the Central African Republic, his contacts with the US military, and through them UN notification of the ladies kidnapping and confinement. Kim, in short, had been responsible for the survival of all three of them.

Kia asked, "Do you know where he is now?"

"No," started Shawn, "but I know he's safe and in good spirits. Tell the truth Kia, he might be here in New York. In fact, I'd be surprised if he wasn't."

Shai offered, "He's undercover."

Shawn gave her the high sign, "Kim's been undercover ever since I've known him," he smiled at Kia, "wouldn't you agree?"

"I love you Shawn. You've made me so happy, just talking to you; she paused then went on, "I haven't felt safe since we've been back. Now you're here, and I know Kim's nearby, I know nothing can touch us."

Shai held up her glass, "A toast."

Shawn held up his, "To Kim."

Kia responded, "To help for Darfur."

Shai piped in, "To Darfur; to the four of us."

They drank and ate till the wee hours of the morning. They swapped old stories, rehashed past experiences, and shared their immediate plans.

The small restaurant closed up, but the proprietor, accustomed to the nature of New York customers, allowed them to stay. Sometime around sun up they packed up, thanked the manager, left a shamefully large gratuity, and left.

As Shawn stepped into the morning sunlight he thanked God for his many blessings; good friends, a promising career, and a beautiful woman not far away tidying up a few minor loose ends. In a couple weeks he Susan and Shawna could settle down in some suburb, gain weight, watch football, baseball, and lacrosse, and just generally get started on the American dream. Things were almost perfect.

In Another World:

In another city, a city not so pretty or as prosperous as New York; in fact by urban standards a mosquito compared to New York, Susan Slattery was about to embark on the most dangerous mission of her life.