The Voodoo That You Do (hypno)
by magister
There is something about a Federal agent that the average criminal can spot a mile away. Something in their walk, their haircut, their clothes, or maybe just their attitude - who knows?
Enrico Jones barely made it to the rank of average criminal, but he was able to spot the two men disembarking from the battered plane as his contacts. It didn't occur to him that other eyes might be watching them, or watching him for that matter. Enrico had never really thought of himself as clever. He had survived by betraying one person to another for as long as he could remember. Now he was about to betray the ultimate secret for what he hoped was the ultimate reward - U.S. citizenship.
Born of a native mother and an unknown marine sometime in the 1950's, Enrico was still desperate to be anywhere else. The small country was full of people who dreamed of a better life across the waters, but very few ever made it out. America guarded its borders jealously, and of the few refugees who did make it over, most were returned within weeks. Enrico saw this latest act of betrayal as an opportunity to truly escape. It was only his desperate need, a body wracked with syphilis and his years of practice that enabled him to even contemplate what he was about to do.
He waddled over to the gate, perspiration soaking his shirt and pants, making him smell worse than usual, but at least it made it easier to push through the crowd and get to the front.
Agents Weston and Dorsey had been briefed on who to look for, but they weren't prepared for the unhealthy smell emanating from their contact. They saw the fat little man pushing through the crowd, and cursed him for his indiscretion. The idea was that they would just quietly walk into the country, use Enrico's information to locate the quarry, tag him, and then leave unnoticed.
However, the sweaty, smelly blob that passed for a contact was making sure that everyone in the arrival lounge saw him, and that he was meeting the two men. There was no doubt that information would already be finding its way to every worthwhile ear on the island. The agents resigned themselves to the fact that, as flimsy as their cover was, it was now blown completely.
They took out their frustration on Enrico, by basically ignoring his questions, and making him take a second taxi to avoid the stench of the man.
They made their way through the shanty town on the outskirts of the capital city, and ended up at what passed for a good hotel. The city wasn't big on tourism, as there was little in the country to see beyond starving peasants and sickly animals. On the other hand, the drug runners who controlled the island had their own living arrangements, and visitors were usually entertained at private mansions that were more like fortresses. The agents had no choice but to take what accommodation they could.
Enrico followed them up to their room, and stood in the doorway, mangling his hat and looking pathetic and devious at the same time.
The agents knew he couldn't be trusted, but all they needed from him was a location, maybe a password, and they could do their job. They also knew that he was expendable. There was no way he would be allowed into the U.S., regardless of what promises were made.
Enrico assured them that he had the information they wanted, and they convinced him to leave and come back in an hour so they could make preparations. They were glad to get some fresh air once he left, and the two agents unpacked and assembled some armaments that were supposedly undetectable by Customs. After the cursory examination at the airfield, though, it was clear that anyone carrying any sort of weapon would be allowed through for the right price. It seemed to take all the purpose out of espionage.
"So, what do you think? Can we still go ahead with the mission?" Jim Weston stood at the balcony door, looking out over the filthy city. He was the older of the two, but only by a year. He was hardened by the things he had seen over the past few years, but deep inside was still the idealistic young man who had joined the agency. Part of him would have liked to just pack up and go. Avoid another killing. Avoid more blood on his hands, however necessary or desirable.
His partner, Frank Dorsey, was more pragmatic and cynical. He was given a mission, and he intended to carry it out. If it was slightly more difficult, then the more recognition a successful result would get him back at headquarters. He wanted promotion and power, and the only way to get that was to do a damn good job. He liked Jim as much as he liked anybody, but there were times he wished he was with someone more focused, and less - soft.
"We go ahead. Enrico can't have blown it completely." Frank got up off the bed and crossed to the dresser to lay out his few toiletries. "We get what we can off him and go through with it. Besides, our target thinks he's so well protected, he's not going to go to any further trouble to protect himself. He thinks he's invulnerable."
"Doesn't that worry you, though, Frank? I mean, we can't be the first ones to be sent to target him. There are rival drug lords, crime syndicates, as well as other law enforcement agencies around the world who'd like nothing better than to see him dead. Maybe he is invulnerable."
"Nope. He's just been lucky so far. We'll finish the job by midnight, and be on the first flight out of this shithole by tomorrow."
"Yeah. Right." Jim was unconvinced. Something about this whole mission was suspicious. Their controller had made the whole thing so top secret, that they were not allowed to mention what the plan was to anyone, even other agents. Nobody knew where they were, or what they were doing, except their immediate superior and whoever had given him the orders.
Not only that, there were better teams for this sort of op. Not that he and Frank weren't good, but they weren't nearly as experienced as some of the others. They were still relatively young - Jim was 30 and Frank was 28 - and this wasn't the sort of thing the agency usually gave to practical newcomers. At first Jim had thought they were being sent on a no win mission as a punishment, but they had done nothing wrong on their four missions so far. Since they had finished their training, both agents had been over-achievers and highly successful and efficient.
So why them? Why here? There must be some reason.
"You ready? That stink bomb will be back in a minute, and then we head out."
"Yeah, I'm ready. All weapons ready and accounted for."
They pushed their way through the crowded street, and tried to ignore the poverty and despair they saw around them. People were avoided the repellent Enrico, so he was opening up a gap in the throng, but it closed in quite abruptly once they had moved on. Jim had the feeling that everyone knew who they were and what they were there for. He also had the feeling that none of them cared.
Frank was disgusted by all the slack faces. He truly believed that with hard work and application, anyone could be anything they wanted. If people were poor or sick, it was their own fault. They should do something about it, rather than sit around complaining.
Enrico led them through twisting side streets until they entered a small doorway sunk into the crumbling side of an old building. They wound their way through corridors, and then down stairs into tunnels. It could have been a trap, leading the agents into an ambush, but they knew that Enrico had put all his hopes into their promise of relocation, and as untrustworthy as he was, in this they could depend on him.
They finally reached the end of the tunnels, and came up against a solid iron door. Enrico pounded on it until a slot opened and two dark eyes peered out at them. Enrico did some quick talking in the local language, and slipped a wad of paper money through the grill. The eyes paused a moment as he weighed up the two agents, and then there was the sound of grating as the door was unbolted from the other side.
They made their way into another dark, but seemingly more travelled tunnel. Enrico had a few more words with the morose guard, and then they turned down toward the right.
"You better know where we're going." Frank had a way of stating things that made it clear that you either agreed with him, or made tracks for somewhere far away. Enrico had nowhere to run to, so he made consoling noises and assured the agents that everything was going according to plan.
Suddenly, torches were shone in their faces, and before either of them could draw their weapon, their arms were forced behind their backs, and with a few swift moves, they were disarmed.
The three of them were dragged further along the tunnels and up the stairs, with Frank cursing under his breath, and Enrico pleading his innocence and trying to convince somebody to let him go. Jim didn't know whether Enrico had led them into a trap (although he seemed as surprised and helpless as they did) or whether their prey had more spies than they guessed. Whatever the situation, they had a few more surprises hidden about their bodies. All they needed was a clear shot at the man. It really didn't matter how they got close to him, and at least this way, thinking they were his prisoners, he might be more relaxed and less well defended.
The three men were bundled through a doorway, and instead of finding themselves in some dank dungeon or interrogation room, they were actually sprawled at one end of what seemed like a large colonial dining room. The walls were white plaster, with a row of arches about halfway up revealing a walkway of sorts.
The room contained a table that was about 30 feet long, with high backed chairs along each side. At the far end was a large, ornately carved chair which looked more like a throne, and their quarry sitting calm and confident, as if he had been awaiting their arrival.
"That will be all. You may leave us." Demain y Carlo Montagne waved his hand, and their captors faded out through the large door and barred it behind them. Jim and Frank were surprised that the obviously efficient security men would leave them alone with their boss, and immediately started scanning the walls for hidden panels, video cameras or other hidden surprises.
"You may relax, gentlemen. I need no protection from men such as you. And my mother can supply such control as I desire." A wizened old shape seemed to detach itself from his chair, and the men could see it was an ancient old crone, mumbling to herself and rubbing her hands over an ugly rag doll she was holding.
"You know why we are here?" Frank was direct as always, and decided that if there was only the old lady between him and a successful kill, then the old lady was dispensable.
"You are not the first, and I doubt you will be the last. Please, make yourselves comfortable." Demain indicated that they should sit, but both Jim and Frank were still not going to fall for another trap so soon. However, Enrico started moving up the length of the room, bowing and scraping as he went.
"Please, my lord, I only brought them to make it easier for you to catch them. I was going to give them to you, but my lord was of course better prepared than anyone. I hope I have not offended you by thinking to anticipate what my lord desires ...." Enrico ended up kneeling before Demain's chair, and what little dignity he still had left was all that kept him from licking the man's boots.
The old lady struck out, and in a surprisingly quick movement, she snatched the sweat soaked handkerchief from the grovelling man. Enrico looked as if he were going to grab it back, but a quick rethink of his precarious situation made him stop. However, his grovelling chatter was interspersed with glares at the old woman.
"I think I have had enough of you, Enrico. I believe you have now become too disgusting to endure any longer. Mother, if you please." Demain turned towards the crone, and she cackled with delight. From somewhere deep inside her sleeve, she pulled out a large, rusty but nonetheless lethal looking stiletto. She was still mumbling under her breath, but this time she closed her eyes as if meditating. Then, with a screech and howl, she stuck the blade into the doll, piercing it through Enrico's dirty rag that she had wrapped around it like a dress.
Enrico screamed in turn, and fell to the floor clutching at his chest. The old woman struck the doll again and again, and each time Enrico screamed as if it was his own body that had been wounded.
At first, Jim thought it was just a matter of some sort of hypnosis, or that Enrico believed in superstitions enough to think it was really happening. But Enrico was writhing so much, he could no longer see what the woman was doing, and yet his cries of pain came immediately after a new piercing. Jim wondered whether he should do something, but not knowing what, he hesitated. Frank was more realistic, and knew they would have disposed of the sneak anyway. He kept his eyes on Demain, as that was his true goal, and the suffering of the slimy little man didn't enter his consciousness much at all.
It didn't take long until Enrico's cries became sobs, and them whimpers, and then faded altogether. He was obviously dead, but the witch kept sticking the doll in uncontrollable glee. Jim was amazed that the dead body still twitched in response to her spell. There was no doubt there was something more going on here than mere primitive superstition and mass hypnosis.
Demain reached out a well manicured hand, and placed it over his mother's jabbing arm. She immediately quieted, and a few seconds later two liveried men entered to gather up the body. There had been no signal that the two agents could detect, which reinforced their suspicions that the room was still being monitored by the household security.
"An unpleasant scene. But, then again, he was an extremely unpleasant man." Demain himself looked a very elegant, but powerful man. He was dressed in a crisp white three piece suit with a royal blue shirt, tie and pocket kerchief. He had jet black hair, slicked back and a neatly clipped goatee. His eyes were dark, but when he looked directly at you they seemed to eat into your head.
Those eyes made Jim shiver, but Frank saw nothing in them that wasn't already in his own Soul.
"So, now, gentlemen, what can I do for you?"
"We are here on business. We were just following that man who said he knew where there was something that might interest us. That's all." Jim tried to bluff their way through with a cover story, but he knew that no one was going to believe it. Two American business men did not stand calmly by while their tour guide succumbed to some unseen murderer.
"Of course. That is all I thought you were." Again, without any obvious signal, a servant entered and held out a tray to Demain. Demain reached out and picked up the two passports that lay there. The agents guessed that after they had left, some of Demain's goons had entered the room and been through their luggage.
Their captor flipped through the documents, and smiled humourlessly to himself.
"I see that the names and details are completely false, but the photos of you are real. Not very flattering, but authentic." He neatly tore the photos from the passports and handed them to his waiting mother. She greedily took them and disappeared behind Demain's chair.
"I'm sorry that your trip has been wasted, gentlemen. As you have seen, there is little, if anything, you can do to me. If I were you, I would simply return to your superiors, and confess another failed attempt. Maybe then they will give up this ridiculous notion of taking me out of the game." Demain's attitude was one of dismissal, and for a minute Jim wanted whole-heartedly to be gone and leave this wretched island far behind.
However, Frank was not one to give in easily. While they had waited for Enrico to die, Frank had been working a tiny needle of metal out from the sleeve of his jacket. It was specially weighted so that it could be thrown with deadly accuracy, and the tip was coated with a nerve poison that was instantaneously fatal when introduced beneath the skin.
As the crone emerged from behind the chair, and Demain was slightly distracted, Frank pulled his hand back in order to send the dart flying. However, he stopped in mid-gesture, as if he had suddenly been frozen. Jim looked over to him, but suddenly found that he too couldn't move. Something held him all over, like a thousand invisible hands. They both stood there like statues, while the witch produced two new dolls, and each one had a passport photo attached to where the face should have been.
The old woman cackled, and Demain smiled, and for the first time that evening, even Frank was beginning to be afraid.