politician.”
Standing there in a long-sleeve black work shirt, jeans, and boots, his blond hair shaggy, his face clean- shaven, with the erect posture of a soldier, Walker seems the embodiment of the man he once was, the chosen one at West Point, the charismatic leader of men, the Green Beret legend; but not the man he is now, the most dangerous man in America.
He stares at her, and she can see the evil come into his eyes. He examines her-she’s still wearing the same blouse and skirt from her suit-as if trying to come to a decision. He decides.
“Take your clothes off.”
“Go to hell.”
He steps to her, grabs her blouse, and rips it off. She swings her fist at his face; he doesn’t bother to block her punch. It has no affect on him.
“Make it easy on yourself,” he says. “But you will do what I want.”
Her bra comes off next and she is standing before him. She does not cower or cry. She will not. He looks at her beauty and his respiration increases; his blue eyes turn dark. He comes close; she knees him in his groin. He backhands her across the face and knocks her onto the bed. Her face and jaw burn with pain; tears fill her eyes. He grabs her skirt and yanks it off with her underwear. His eyes are wide and he’s breathing like a wild animal. He unbuckles his belt; his pants fall to the floor. She does not look at him; she doesn’t have to. He grabs her hips and flips her over and then pulls her hips up. She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth and groans when he pushes into her with sudden force. She is relieved when he does not last long.
But it will not be the last time.
Each time is rough. He always takes her from behind, as if he does not want to see her face when he rapes her or her to see his. He never undresses; he only drops his trousers. He never tries to hold her or caress her or feel her. He just takes her. Like an animal, a wild beast. When he finishes with her, he leaves quickly and without a word, almost as if he’s ashamed of what he has done. But he does it again. And again. And again. She fights him each time but without effect. She cannot beat him with force. He is a force of nature. Her will is weakening. The major controls her life now. His evil is overwhelming.
After the tenth time, she says, “I love you.”
Two weeks later, the major and his men take her across the border into Mexico. They travel to San Jose del Cabo. He says they will live there together and forever.
“He must die! He must die fast and hard or we’ll become another goddamn Colombia!”
FBI Director Laurence McCoy released Walker only to have Walker renege on releasing Elizabeth Austin. Two weeks and no Austin. Major Charles Woodrow Walker must die. McCoy’s dream of the White House is riding on it.
But McCoy doesn’t know where Walker is or whom he can trust. Walker said he had men in the FBI. So McCoy is going outside the Bureau for this job. He says to the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America: “Find him and kill that son of a bitch!”
The young American woman is sitting at the outdoor coffee shop, sipping her coffee, so serene and beautiful in her wispy white dress and white sun hat and dark sunglasses. Perhaps she is a movie star. Yes, Juan decides, she is a movie star. Many a movie star has sipped coffee in his shop in Baja California, but surely she is the most beautiful of them all.
Juan takes her a fresh cup of his best coffee. She is radiant. He can only dream of having a beautiful woman like her. He sighs. Just having her in his coffee shop these last few weeks will have to suffice. She is alone today; the big blond American man is nowhere in sight. Nor are their bodyguards. Juan wants desperately to talk with her, but he cannot bring himself to do so. He places the cup of coffee on the table in front of her.
“ Gracias,” she says, and then she faints.
Jorge Hernandez, M.D., earned his medical degree at the University of Guadalajara in 1965, back when abortion was illegal in the States. From 1965 until 1973, Jorge specialized in abortions for Americans. He opened abortion clinics in border towns from Matamoras to Tijuana. Roe v. Wade ended his abortion career.
He closed his clinics and moved to San Jose del Cabo for the fishing. His last abortion procedure for an American was over thirty years ago. Certainly that is why this American woman is here. Jorge sees no wedding ring. He is patting her hand when she opens her eyes.
“Where am I?”
“Hospital,” Jorge says. “You are here for an abortion?”
“What? No!”
“But you are pregnant, you know this?”
From her face, Jorge sees that she does not know this.
She says, “I need a phone.”
Major Charles Woodrow Walker stops the Jeep at the secluded beach house outside San Jose del Cabo. He enters the house. He has been gone two days; he traveled to the border, only to learn that his face was still on the front page of every newspaper in the U.S. So he sent the men north. He will remain in Mexico for another month, then he will reunite with his men in Idaho. And they will wage war on America.
Until then he will enjoy sex with Elizabeth.
Charles Woodrow Walker was born for war and sex. He possessed the mental toughness to kill and the physical tools for sex, a combination that afforded him a great power over both sexes. Men would die for him and women would lie down for him. He has never tired of sex or killing. And there would be more of both for Charles Woodrow Walker.
Before he leaves, he will kill Elizabeth. She loves him, just as all his women eventually loved him, but she is a security risk. Women are always security risks. Charles Woodrow Walker loved war and sex but never a woman.
“Elizabeth!”
No answer. He walks through the house to the back deck. He scans the beach from north to south. It’s vacant, except for one woman at the water’s edge. He walks to the beach.
Elizabeth feels his presence and turns.
The major is walking toward her. From his face, she knows what he will do to her. He is smiling, but he suddenly stops and cocks his head, as if catching a distant sound. And they are here. Three black helicopters rise over the trees and surround the major, hovering just off the beach; three snipers’ rifles are pointed at Major Charles Woodrow Walker. He glances at each helicopter then back at Elizabeth.
“You betrayed me.”
“You raped me.”
She had called FBI Director McCoy from her hospital bed and set a trap for Major Charles Woodrow Walker. She told McCoy where she was and where the major would be. “I owe you, Elizabeth,” McCoy had said. “You just made me president.”
“You said you loved me,” the major says.
“I lied.”
“No, you didn’t lie. I own you, Elizabeth. I will always own you-your mind, your soul, your life. You will never be free of me. And one day I’ll come for you. But I won’t kill you. I’ll hurt you more. I’ll take what you love most. I guarangoddamntee it.”
He glances up at the helicopters again and shrugs with disdain. “They can arrest me again, but they can’t hold me. I’ll still come for you, Elizabeth. One day I will come.”
He grins and it is Satan’s grin. But the grin falls off his face when she says, “They’re not here to arrest you.”
She turns away and three shots ring out.
Elizabeth Austin walks off without looking back but knowing her life is forever changed. Evil took her for its own. Evil embraced her and violated her and planted its seed in her. That evil is now dead. But should the child she carries also die?
She has considered killing the life within her each day since Dr. Hernandez told her she was pregnant. She has also considered killing herself-but she had to kill Walker first. Now he is dead and she is free to kill herself and the child with her. She wants desperately to die.
But she cannot take the life within her. She cannot kill the child. The child deserves to live, and so Elizabeth
