The Curist

Prologue – An Empire Lost, A City Born

1536 – The Andes mountains of Peru

The Inca warrior raced up the mountain pursued by the ruthless Spaniards. He knew his life, and the lives of many others, depended on keeping the slim lead he had on his hunters. The warrior was sure on a different day he could easily stop running, become the pursuer, and kill the enemies chasing him, but not today. Today was different. He couldn’t risk any delay in meeting his father, so he blocked his desire to engage and kill, and quickened his pace up the mountain. The once great Inca Empire had been reduced to ruins by the Spaniards with both their brutality and diseases. Today, was the day his noble father had chosen for the beginning of the new Inca Empire.

The air was bitter cold, the wind was ripping around the mountainside and the sun was fading in and out as large, bright cumulus clouds moved quickly through the sky. As the warrior looked up the mountain, he saw the peak glistening white, from the early fall snow. He imagined his father waiting in his adobe a few thousand feet above him. Just another hour or so he thought, trying to maintain his calm. Somehow the Spaniards had found out about his departure, he was not sure how, but it made no difference, now he just needed to maintain his distance from them. Although they had been chasing him for the last few hours, they had not been able to make up any time. Their plan was obvious; they would continue to chase him until he ran out of mountain—he, of course, had his own plan.

He paused for a second, looking up at the sky, estimating he had about two more hours of daylight. An hour to reach his father and then one last hour of light would be just enough for them to get to their final destination on the mountain. Although they were very familiar with the mountain, traveling along the dangerous cliffs and paths would be too difficult for his father at night. His heart was pounding as he climbed, getting ever so close to his father, and thinking about the wonderful and mysterious future that lay ahead for his people.

The Noble Melka sat at his wooden table, anxiously waiting for his son, trying to avoid the cold draft coming from the window of the small space. Melka had always been revered by his people, but the once proud leader and great warrior was now a shell of his old self. His body had been beaten down by age and arthritis, and he’d been reduced physically to what he never wanted to be, a tired, crippled old man, past his time. His mind, however, was as clear as the days of his youth, but ever wiser because of his life’s experience. The breakdown of his body might have been easier if his mind was cloudy. Then he would not have to bear knowing the carnage the Spaniards had brought to his people, nor would he have to carry the burden of his singular knowledge and personal mission. Over the past year, Melka had carefully been recruiting people to join him in a new place, not yet discovered by the Spaniards. They had secretly been building homes, planting seeds and preparing to cut themselves off from the Spaniards, and painful as it might be, from the rest of their people. Melka felt this was the only way to keep their race from disappearing forever.

His hope for the future had helped him summon the strength and energy he had needed over the last year to direct the preparations and to complete a lifelong project—adapting their Quipu method of communication into a crude written language and recording their history. He believed this was another necessity to ensure the record of his people was never erased from the past. He placed his hands on the book that lay on the table in front of him. It contained guidance for the new community, as well as a record of their history. He was proud of what it contained and felt confident that his son could and would follow the path he outlined. The writings encompassed all that he had learned and all that his people needed to know to resurrect and rebuild the Inca race. He had worked tirelessly on the writings day and night for the last three months, so much so that sleep was rare, nights and days were now a blur. He smiled knowing he had finished, and that the long-awaited rest he so welcomed, was near. He closed his eyes and thought about what had brought him to this—the final day of his life.

WORLD WAR II

Chapter 1

May 30, 1944 – London

Josephine was getting ready for her evening with the American colonel. She was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, admiring her beautiful body, and beautiful it was. She could easily have passed for a Hollywood pin-up girl, with her long raven hair shining as it fell down her back, deep and penetrating blue eyes and her silky white skin radiant in the reflection. At twenty-eight years old, her body was in pristine condition, which pleased her vanity, but was also a necessity for her employment. Josephine was very good at her job. So good in fact, that in just a few years, her talents had enabled her to become one of the top German spies during the war. That success had empowered her to rise from the slums of Paris to the wealthy and aristocratic lifestyle of London, something she had always desired. Her body was her tool, or more like her weapon, to extract the most classified secrets from men who had no power to resist her. She had them spouting out every worthwhile fact they knew that would help the Germans in their cause and had them begging for a chance to do it again once they had tasted her fruits. She understood men, their needs, their weaknesses, and that if she did things right, they would provide her with the life she wanted. She could care less about who wanted to rule the world.

It was two years into her spying career that her superiors started ordering her to murder her targets once she had extracted the desired information. They said it was necessary to keep her identity a secret. At first, she was uncomfortable with it, but after a while she began to enjoy the thrill of the kill, and she became known as ‘Black Widow’. The Germans went to great pains to keep Josephine safe. They provided her with all the protection and resources she needed, and she never stayed in one place too long.

Tonight, Josephine would need to look especially ravishing, in order to give the performance of her life. Her last victim, a young British Captain, had revealed that the Allied invasion of France was scheduled for the first week of June, but not where the landing would take place. There were too many different theories and rumors about where the Allies were going to invade, many of which the Allies had started. Germany’s high-ranking military officers surmised that Normandy was the most logical place for the invasion, while Hitler and his advisers were convinced it was Calais. This being the 30th of May, she knew time was precious and she would have to discover and confirm the exact date and landing place in order to give Germany a chance to defend their positions.

The German intelligence community had spent the last few months tracking several high-ranking officials they thought had specific knowledge of the plan. Their intel had them focusing on a certain American Army Lieutenant Colonel. Not only did they believe he had information about the invasion, they believed he was also one of the Allies top spies, known to be cruel and merciless, responsible for the deaths of dozens of German agents. To the best of their ability, they had tracked the colonel’s habits and patterns, where he ate, where he drank and who he associated with. Their research revealed a man who used women, alcohol and drugs all at a frenzied pace, but seemed to somehow maintain control.

In a quiet little pub near Covent Garden, Josephine managed to meet the colonel a few days ago. When she walked in, he was standing at the bar. His piercing blue eyes followed her as she walked up next to him and ordered a drink. She turned to him and smiled radiantly, he struck up a conversation with her, she happily responded. After a bit they moved to a quiet booth, where they had a few drinks and continued their conversation which turned somewhat evocative. Josephine suggested they meet again, dinner at her place with her hinting it might be more. The colonel gladly accepted, and they had settled on tonight as the date.

Interestingly, Josephine was looking forward to tonight’s job more than usual. The American was handsome, mysterious, and if he lived up to his reputation, it would require all of her skills to complete her mission, a challenge she was more than up to. She took one last look in the mirror, adjusted her red sheer and satin dress, applied a powerful matching red lipstick and a seductive French perfume, gave a nod of satisfaction to herself in the mirror and headed to the bathroom. She opened the medicine cabinet and removed a small, unlabeled bottle. She shook two small tablets from the bottle onto her hand, paused for a second, and then added a third. With a spoon, she crushed the three tablets and poured the fine powder into a special dispenser shaped in the form of a cigarette lighter. The device would easily allow her to put as much, or as little, as she wanted, into the drinks she would be preparing later in the evening. The pills were a powerful combination of several drugs, that within minutes of entering the blood stream would begin to send a person’s senses into overdrive. Everything was enhanced for the user, sight, sound, smell, taste, and especially the sex drive. The drug did that for her, but she knew enough to use it sparingly for herself, she could not afford to lose her edge.

With transfer of the powder complete, she returned the bottle to the cabinet and re-entered the bedroom. She laid down on her large, oval-shaped bed, and moved to the exact position she would be in later this evening. Reaching out behind her, she pressed a hidden panel on the wall which slid away to reveal a small compartment that contained a shiny Beretta pistol, complete with silencer. She grabbed the weapon, checked to make sure it was loaded, made a mock firing gesture to where she expected her victim to be, then checked to make sure the safety was off. She put the gun back and closed the secret compartment. The spider’s lair was ready.

Josephine got up from the bed and headed to the kitchen. The one domestic trait Josephine enjoyed was the preparing, cooking, and eating of gourmet food. She had four excellent bottles of wine, the best caviar, a savory beef Wellington cooking in the oven and other samples of fine culinary delights. She knew tonight would bring three things—the location of the Allied invasion, great sex, and the death of the Colonel.

Chapter 2

Lt. Col. Keith Strickland was in the back seat of the private car Josephine had sent for him. The driver, a closed mouth, rather ugly Brit—or a German trying to act like one—said nothing for the entire ride. When they pulled up in front of her building, he finally spoke, something vaguely resembling English, and told the colonel which number to go to. As soon as the colonel got out of the car, the driver sped away, giving the impression he was not coming back anytime soon. The colonel stood on the quiet street and surveyed his surroundings, the building he was meant to enter, the adjacent buildings and finally the alleyway, satisfied with what he saw, he entered Josephine’s building. He passed through the dimly lit vestibule and climbed the stairs leading to the second floor. He glanced at the numbers and saw the one he was looking for on his left. Before knocking, he took a deep breath, focused his attention on the mission ahead and reminded himself to stay relaxed and to be careful. Always be careful.

He knocked on the door, and the sound echoed in the quiet building. In a moment, Josephine opened the door looking beautiful in her revealing red dress.

Good evening, Colonel.

Good evening, you look stunning, and please call me Keith.

Okay then, Keith, please come in.

Josephine turned and led him into the large and luxurious flat. It was very well decorated with antiques, paintings and exquisite furniture dating back to some early period, none of which he could name. His eyes moved quickly around the main living room, taking in everything, the windows, the doors and the other rooms. Even if he had not known where he was going, he would have felt as if he walked into a spider’s lair; her code name definitely suited her.

You’re on time. I like that. Her voice was very soft-spoken, well-versed in English, with no accent.

It’s part of my training, second nature.

Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.

As always, Keith was carrying a black overnight bag. Tonight, it contained all of the tools he would need before the evening played itself out. He put down the bag and sat on one of the oversized sofas.

I see you plan on staying a while, she said, glancing at the overnight bag.

It’s just my tooth brush and a change of clothes. This war has us all scattered. I never travel without them.

Josephine smiled ever so slightly, Relax, while I pour us a drink. White wine, very dry, okay with you?

Yes, that’s fine, thank you. You have a nice place, very nice. Very you.

Thank you. I admire the finer things in life, and I like to surround myself with them.

You certainly have done that, Keith said, eyeing her seductively.

Josephine went over to the bar, opened a bottle of wine and poured it into expensive crystal glasses. She brought over his glass and their eyes met for a moment before his eyes moved over her body. She sat down on a matching sofa across from him so they were directly facing each other, her dress barely containing her ample cleavage. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she raised her glass and offered a toast, To the start of a new friendship and a beautiful evening. She took a small sip of her wine.

Keith raised his glass and returned the toast, To us. He took a sip of the wine. Buried ever so slightly under the fine taste, he detected a hint of a foreign substance. He was no stranger to drugs and he recognized what this was, mostly opium, and a quality product, but he suspected there were a few other substances also. It would be too much for most men, but with his hard-living lifestyle over the past ten years, he’d developed an extremely high tolerance for drugs and alcohol. This was definitely going to be an interesting evening.

The wine is excellent, from the Burgundy region, if I’m not mistaken.

I’m impressed. What other areas of expertise do you have? Josephine wanted him to feel comfortable, for his words to flow without hesitation or thought. She had learned that the truth comes easy once her victims start to ramble. What better way to start than to let a man boast of his particular qualities and attributes, whether true or not. It was all part of the game.

I’m an expert at many things. Wine, pointing at the glass, women, nodding at her, military strategy and invasions, this was what she wanted to hear, weapons, explosives, murder … only German agents of course, have you seen any lately?

I don’t know, what do they look like? she said innocently.

Nothing like you, that’s for sure.

Well, that makes me feel at ease. I see you have a full slate of expertise, Colonel, excuse me, Keith. I also detect some cynicism.

You don’t have to try hard to detect it. It’s there. For most people the war has screwed up their lives. For me, it started well before that, and the war has only made it worse. For a moment Keith’s face darkened and he seemed a million miles away.

Josephine motioned to his empty glass and asked, Another drink, Keith?

Yes, thank you.

She moved gracefully, very confident and self-assured. Josephine took Keith’s glass, went to the bar and poured him another glass of wine, exactly the same as the first. Through the large mirror behind the bar, she could watch him. This was a position she had been in many times, like a seasoned actress knowing her mark on the stage. She saw he was not watching her as she poured, rather, he was admiring one of the paintings. She returned and handed him the refilled glass, which he promptly emptied like he hadn’t had a drink in a month. God, he would never feel the bullet when it enters his head.

Let me check on dinner. It should be just about done.

Good, because it smells wonderful and I’m starving.

She went into the kitchen to check on the food. He would only be out of her sight for a couple of minutes, so she didn’t worry about leaving him alone, but that was an eternity for a spy! When she exited the kitchen with their dinner, he was in the exact spot she had left him. She put the food on the table and invited him to join her.

They savored each bit of food she had prepared, drank most of the wine, and left no topic uncovered. The body language and chemistry between them promised a brilliant conclusion to the evening. As Josephine had surmised, she was easily able to get Keith to reveal the information on the invasion. She sensed no lies, only a bitter man, weary of the war and of life, who didn’t care any longer. He told her the invasion was scheduled for the sixth of June, which matched what the young British captain had told her, and confirmed Calais was to be the invasion point. He was so brazen, he probably thought he would kill her before she could tell anybody anything. How foolish, she thought.

Realizing there was no more to gain from continued conversation, Josephine said, Shall we prepare for dessert?

Sounds great. What are we having? Something special I hope.

Something very special, that I’m sure you’ve never had before. She was surprised that he seemed to show very little effect from the drugs and alcohol—very unusual. Josephine made the first move as she got up from her seat slowly, and seductively walked over to him.

Let me take you to the room where dessert will be served.

His eyes said yes as she bent over and gave him a very light kiss on the lips, ever so soft. She paused, looked him in the eyes and followed it up with a more passionate kiss that sent a rush to his brain and loins at the same time. He reacted quick as a cat, lifting her up with his powerful arms, keeping their lips locked with their tongues dancing. He found her bedroom and bed just in time for them to come up for air.

As he laid her down on the bed, she whisked away her dress in one motion as if it didn’t belong to her to begin with. He pulled off his shirt, and undid his pants. She attempted to remove his briefs, but he gave her a firm push back onto the bed. Save your energy. You’re going to need it, he said confidently.

Hmmm, I like the sound of that. She smiled at him and said, Please excuse me for a moment. I won’t be long.

Of course, Keith said as he nodded.

Josephine rose seductively out of the bed and entered her bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could see him from the mirror. She opened a drawer and took out a piece of paper which had two words already written on it—Place, Date. She took out her eyebrow pencil and wrote Calais, 6 June, and signed the paper BW. She put the paper into an empty lipstick case, and still watching him in the mirror, she lifted up a floor tile revealing a small tube that went down through the floor. Josephine dropped the lipstick case down the tube, it descended out of sight, on the way to the anxious recipients. She quickly put the tile back in place, sprayed some perfume over her body and redid her lipstick. Now for the best part of the job, Josephine thought as she prowled back to the bed and her waiting prey.

As she walked back into the bedroom, Keith was laying across the bed, completely nude. He smelled the intoxicating cologne and noticed the freshened lipstick, You didn’t have to freshen up on my account.

I didn’t do it for you.

Keith smiled broadly, Well, okay then.

She leaned over and kissed him, setting off both of their desires.

A while later, Josephine sensed his climax was near. She rolled him over, placing herself on top. She opened her eyes to steal a glance, and saw that Keith was in pure pleasure, as he should be. She could feel the magic moment coming for both of them. This was the time for her to act. She bent over to kiss him and reached for the secret panel, with the movement of their bodies she missed on the first attempt, but was able to open the compartment with her second. The shock of what she saw froze the blood in her veins, removed all the heat that her body had generated and literally took the air from her lungs. The compartment was empty, the fucking gun was not there! How could that be? She put it there herself earlier, just before he arrived. Her mind started to breakdown, but her body was on autopilot. She continued to move her body, he was climaxing, she wasn’t, she felt a deep cold inside that she had never felt before. She couldn’t understand what had happened and fear, not passion, was now her strongest emotion. She saw that his face had completely changed. His look of pleasure was still there, but he also had an evil smile across his face. With one last movement deep into her, he tensed and then groaned with pleasure. He was done.

Keith opened his eyes, Looking for something, my dear?

You are as good as they say. Josephine said as she realized she’d been taken at her own game by the American spy. She had been too confident in her own abilities to see any danger. She didn’t know how or when he had removed the gun, but it didn’t matter now. She knew there was no sense in begging for her life. She wouldn’t stoop to that now anyway; she knew she was finished. For Josephine, it was better to taste the best that life had to offer for a short time than to toil forever in strife and poverty. No one lives forever, she thought. As he raised the barrel of the gun to her head, Josephine’s mind flashed back to a memory of her mother braiding her hair. Keith fired the gun. Josephine’s head slumped back as he lifted her off of his body.

With practiced efficiency, Keith got up and went to the bathroom, soaked a towel in cold water and washed the blood from his body. He returned to the bedroom and wiped down all the blood spatter he found. He got dressed, retrieved his bag from the living room and opened it. With rope and tape, he secured her hands and legs together and wrapped her still warm body in the bloody sheets. He loosened some straps on the overnight bag and it was transformed into a large carrying bag. After placing the body inside the bag, he wound rope through the straps to allow him to easily carry and maneuver the package.

After turning out all of the lights, he went to the window in the living room at the back of the flat, took out a flashlight, aimed it down towards the alley and flashed the light twice. A few seconds later a return light flashed twice from the bottom of the