Trained To Kill (11 page)

He looked at her for a long moment
before he left. She knew what he wanted. She wanted it too. But a
cop, Jesus Christ on a crutch, why did he have to be a cop? Was she
a masochist? Being curious about her past and her abilities didn't
mean Alex would overlook what she had done to Riley and
Rosenthal.

She walked up to her office absently,
thinking about Alex. What was it about him that made her want him?
She had only known him for a few days, but there had been a power
in his eyes that had blown past her walls when they met. She had
recognized something inside of him. Something that was in her too.
A rage, and a sadness. Where did his rage come from?

She told herself she needed to drop it
but she didn't want to. Walking over to her mini bar she poured
herself a drink. Rubbing the rim of the glass against her lips, she
wondered what his lips would taste like against hers. Pacing around
her office, she couldn't get his face out of her mind and
desperately wanted to know the extent of his tattoos. How far did
they go? His dark eyes saw right through her and she needed to be
careful that he didn't see too much.

Her phone began playing her the
ringtone she had set for unknown callers. She picked it up
Manhattan area code, “Hello?”

“
Isadora?”

“
Yes.”

“
This is James Mackenzie.
Jorge gave me your number.”

Shit, she had forgotten about that
already. “Hello.”

“
Hi. So listen, Jorge and
Maarten sound pretty convinced we should elope to Las Vegas. How
would you like to meet for coffee or dinner first?”

“
I would like that,” Isa
grinned. “I’ll bring samples so we can pick out our china
patterns.”

James chuckled, “Great, I’m partial to
french country myself. There’s a little place that serves great
coffee or pasta for whatever we might feel like. Aria’s on
5th.”

“
I know it. That sounds
perfect. How about tomorrow?”

“
That’ll work. 6:30 sound
ok?”

“
I’ll be there. What do
you look like?”

“
Shaved head except for
one little tuft at the crown in a pony tail, Hitler mustache. I’ll
be wearing a long white robe and uh sandals.”

Isa was pretty sure he was kidding,
but…

“
I’m kidding.”

“
Oh thank God! I thought
you were but I didn’t want to be rude,” Isa was
laughing.

James laughed and said, “Dark brown
hair, blue eyes. I’m about 5’10”. I’ll wear a blue sweater and
jeans.”

“
Blonde, green eyes, 5’6”.
I’ll wear the same so we can be twins.” Isa was grinning
again.

James laughed, “Perfect, see you
then.”

Isa hung up still smiling. Jannsen was
right, she did like him.

Later Isa was at her computer, Alex
and James firmly in the back of her mind. She needed to put her
mind on other things. Santinez. Now she had a place to start
looking. She had sent the mug shots to her own computer before
sending them to Alex. She typed and searched. She hacked and
cursed. Her fingers danced over the keys and she rarely
blinked.

She lost herself in the flow of data
and she thrilled at the challenge of going over the FBI's firewall.
They had a lot of information on him. It had taken her quite a bit
of trouble to get in and out quickly without detection.

The more she read, the grumpier she
became. Of course that could be because it was 2:00 am. She shut it
down and got ready for bed. Falling face first on the pillow, she
let the facts run through her head as she got
comfortable.

Name: Rafael DeCarlo

Born: Naples, Italy 1977.

Physical Description: Black Hair,
Black Eyes, Dark Complexion. 6’0”, 180 lbs.

Criminal History: Beginning with the
Caligaris Mafia in Naples. He moved to America in his early 20's
and carved out a name for himself, literally and figuratively, in
New York City. The usual suspects: racketeering, drug running,
prostitution, murder, extortion. The feds and the NYPD had plenty
on him, and yet he kept slipping through the legal system, which
meant he had a lot of higher ups in his pockets or he was an
informant. Probably both.

She wasn't tackling Interpol's
firewall tonight; besides she had enough on him for her
purposes.

Sleep took her quickly and she prayed
for no dreams. Of course her prayers were never answered. Whenever
she had a session with Dr. Jannsen her memories were inevitably
stirred and she dreamed of that night.

She was back. Back in La Beau Chateau.
The name made her sneer even in her dream. So pretentious. She had
had the same thought when she and her mother had arrived there when
she was a young girl. She wasn't a young girl anymore though; she
was 17, almost 18. 18 seemed like a magical number to her. 18 meant
freedom from him. She knew she was fooling herself but she liked to
fantasize. Anna was here at this time. She was 5 years old. Her
sweet Anna. They had inherited their mother's blonde hair and green
eyes. Anna had been to the stable that day, just like every day.
She would have slept there if Isa had allowed it. She was telling
Isa about her favorite horse as she tucked her in to
bed.

The dream always began here, as if her
brain was trying to give Isa a good memory before it all went black
and horrifying. She heard him in the hallway, Roger Thorn. He was
yelling for her. She went to his room before he got angrier. She
could see how drunk he was. He tried to touch her, but he was so
damned drunk he couldn't do much. Thank God. Please fall asleep,
she thought. He did for awhile, but then the dream shifted and they
were in his office. She could never quite remember what had made
them go in there. He was so angry with her and she was afraid. The
dream made everything darker and yet sharper somehow, the shadows
were long and his face was distorted, making him look more like the
monster he was on the inside.

She had disobeyed. But I didn't. Isa
shifted on her mattress, her brow furrowed, and skin slickening
with sweat. I didn’t disobey. He was so drunk; he was out of his
mind. She tried to calm him down, tried to explain she hadn't done
it. Done what? Why can’t I remember? The dream got darker, the only
light coming from the green lamp on his desk. Her heart sped up
both in real time and in her dream. She knew what was coming, she
wanted to stop it and she tried to stop it. But she never could, it
always happened the same way. He screamed so loud and incoherently,
he woke Anna.

Sweet and happy, innocent Anna. Like a
golden beacon, she came shuffling in to the study wondering what
was happening, calling for Isa. Frightened by her Father, Anna
tried to run to Isa but Roger picked her up first. He held her like
he was going to hug her, comfort her, and for a moment, just a
moment, Isa thought it was ok. But then he turned, he turned too
fast for Isa to follow, to understand what he was doing. He threw
Anna out the window. Isa's breath came faster. He threw her, he
threw her. Where is she!? Isa's body moved in slow motion running
toward the window, trying to save her, but he turned back around
toward her and the scream building inside her unleashed. She ran
right into him, not understanding why she couldn't move, she had to
get to Anna. He had stabbed her in the stomach. The knife was
holding her in place as she tried to run. He had his arm around in
her a sick parody of an embrace.

The knife had slipped in right between
her internal organs, she was lucky the Doctor had said later.
Lucky. But then he jerked the knife upward slicing into her flesh.
The pain came and Isa's body convulsed. She slid down his body onto
her knees. Her thoughts were still on Anna though. She had to get
to Anna. She could be alive down there, hurt. She needed...to
call...an...ambulance. Isa's vision was going, but she forced her
way back up on to her feet, she had to get to Anna. She pulled the
knife out an inch at a time. Her vision filled with Roger Thorn.
Isa was no longer in control of her body. She didn't know how many
times she plunged to knife into him. She was mad with pain and
fear.

Afterwards, she still had strength,
from where she did not know, but she managed to make her way down
the stairs and around the house to where Anna lay. Her neck was
broken. Her bright green eyes stared at Anna, unblinking. She was
cold and alone. The blood drained from her body like a leaky
faucet. She was happy to die here on the ground next to her. She
had nothing to live for now anyway. The darkness came and she
surrendered.

Isa woke quietly. The tears fell and
she let them. She was shivering from the sweat cooling on her skin.
She hadn't had the complete dream in awhile. Usually it was just
the part about Anna falling. She lay still, calming her heart.
Smoothing a hand down her abdomen, she fingered her scar
remembering the hospital and the recovery. She remembered the
police being impressed with how she managed to keep moving after
being stabbed. The only thing that got her through it all was one
thought: She was free from him. But immediately after came the
grief, so it was a small comfort. It nearly ended her. Her strength
would ebb and flow. The police and then the FBI came to talk to
her. The recovery was long and painful.

The months and years after Isa had
wandered alone, grieving, always grieving, for Anna. She had failed
her. She always promised to protect her from him, and she had
failed. She should be the one dead. Not Anna. Eventually she began
to think and then plan. She couldn't kill her stepfather again, but
she could kill the monsters that had raped her. They had taken
advantage of a teenage girl because they knew Thorn controlled her.
He kept Anna as a way to ensure Isa's complete obedience. She let
him do what she wanted. As long as he didn't touch Anna, she could
handle anything. And he never did. He kept his word on that. Until
that last night. The day never came when she could take Anna and
run.

Sitting up, Isa rubbed her hands over
her face, scrubbing at the dried tears. Sleep wouldn't come again.
It was 8:00 am. 6 hours? Good enough. Rising on unsteady legs, she
made her way to the shower. She stood under the hot spray for a
long time. She couldn't get warm.

Chapter 16

Isa sat at the window watching the
snowflakes dance in the wind. It was late afternoon. She felt
sluggish and disoriented. Too many memories of Anna and him. Her
life was wrapped up in Roger Thorn. She couldn’t escape him or her
past. Dr. Jannsen would say she needed to live in the present, not
the past. He would never spout drivel about getting over it or
forgetting about it, but she knew he didn’t think she should be
actively thinking about it every day after 9 years.

She wasn’t helping herself by hunting
down the men that had hurt her. All it was doing was keeping the
past firmly in the now. And Isa was tired. Tired of the past. Tired
of Roger Thorn. Tired of Rosenthal and Riley. She was tired of
herself. Dr. Jannsen was right; nothing would change if she didn’t
change it herself.

She got up and went to the bathroom.
Undressing, she ran a hot bath and poured in some bath soap from
the Bulgaria Spa in Knightsbridge. The scent filled her with
memories of her childhood. Her father had brought it to her mother
as a gift when she was a child whenever he had to head back to the
UK for business and it never failed to make her calm.

She sank in up to her chin and turned
on the jets, letting them pulse and pound the dreariness from her
body. She let all thoughts and memories slip away as she began to
meditate. Her calm center was a tranquil lake, and in the middle,
she sat on a huge flat round stone. Every thought was a drip in the
pristine water that sent ripples in outward rings. She pushed the
thoughts away and let the ripples calm.

Master Yukimura had taught her the
technique years ago and she had always kept up the practice. She
attributed the fact that she wasn’t a stark, raving lunatic to her
meditation practice and Dr. Jannsen.

Although perhaps she was crazy, she
had tortured and killed two men, with premeditation and joy. She
never doubted that they deserved to suffer for what they had done
to her, and what was done was done. She couldn’t change it
now.

The meditation was broken by these
thoughts, so she finished her bath. After washing her hair and
shaving all the necessary places, she got out and toweled off. She
blasted her hair dry, leaving it loose down her back, and went to
her closet. It was neatly organized by season and color. She went
to the winter section and rummaged through the blues until she
found her favorite old, navy blue, cashmere sweater with small
white hearts in the design and an old pair of Levis with a button
fly.

Heading downstairs she called out the
Renée and told her where she was going.

“
A date?” Renée was
confused. “You? With that good looking police man?”

“
No, this is someone Dr.
Jannsen set me up with.”

“
Oh? Well that’s wonderful
chère. Have a good time. You deserve it.” She said kissing her
cheek.

Smiling at her, Isa shoved her arms
through her coat and left.

She was ten minutes late due to a
small car accident that blocked the lane, so she hustled into the
restaurant and saw James stand up and wave. She waved back, turning
to let the maitre d’ take her coat.