From The Grave

Chapter 11

Luane Treeline dried herself with the towel and picked up the poolside telephone, answering with a tired drawl. She listened for a moment then sat on the edge of the lounge, tossed her towel aside and picked up the cocktail left for her by her houseboy Ortiz. The warm sun had heated it and she pulled a face, setting it aside.

"How is Wayne. I heard he was in hospital, something about a family tiff."

"His daughter tried to kill him."

"He was very careless using her in this business."

"It's that business I'm calling about, Luane." April said. "I'd like to meet and discuss the situation and our requirements."

"Why didn't Wayne call, he knows the rules. I don't deal with staff."

April clenched her teeth. "I'm not staff, Luane, I'm running things for Wayne while he recuperates; he gave me your number."

"I'll be at the Pampered Muscle for my weekly massage at four. You can speak with me there." She whispered a goodbye and hung up. April's teeth almost cracked.

"Ortiz!"

"The stocky little man scurried onto the patio and came to attention by the lounge.

"Ortiz, I need a file on a Miss April Weston. Check Jenner Global Enterprises. I need it today before four, and fix me another one of these." She pointed to her glass but didn't hand it to him. The man nodded and trotted off the patio. Luane plumped the pillow on the lounge and lay back, drawing the beach towel over her bare skin and sliding her sunglasses down over her eyes.

At the age of eleven Luane became a child soldier in Rwanda, abused into carrying and using a gun too big for her skinny frame then abused again by the men in the rag tag army. She was sixteen before she managed to escape the rebel soldiers and make her way from Byumba across the border into Uganda and beyond into the Sudan.

On a long, agonizing trek, selling herself for food and water and employing some of the training she had as a soldier, she followed the White Nile to Khartoum where she met an English trader who took her in as his house servant. Her duties soon became more than just that of a domestic maid and when the opportunity came to fly with him to England, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

The trader had arranged her passage with all the proper papers, at least in appearance, and once at his home in England, he set about having her tutored in manners, appearance and the necessary requirements for a young lady of the house. His intention was to enjoy all this effort for himself, Luane's interest was none of his. By the time she was twenty-two, she had become all that he had envisioned and more and had kept her a virtual prisoner, rarely if ever allowing her out of the home except on the enclosed property.

Two more years passed and through diligence and wile she managed to get some control over housekeeping funds and also a small allowance to enjoy when he permitted. When her savings were sufficient and she had seen enough of how he conducted his affairs and where, she calmly slit his throat one night and stashed his body in the damp, unused cellar. Thus began Luane's self-directed future.

Her first personal act was to contact one of the trader's cronies and offer herself as liason with her master, who had found it necessary to leave the country for some time. The fact that he hadn't informed any of his business acquaintances of the move was glossed over with more fabrications and entertaining promises. Her opportunity came when after several meetings one of the clients asked a small favour. He wanted another associate to suffer a public embarrassment in revenge for some slight he refused to reveal.

Luane accepted and in doing so, sealed his fate. From that point on she used him for her personal advantage, always holding the threat of exposure over his head. The party she embarrassed for him lost his business dealings as well as his wife and family, becoming a pariah in the field. Her ambition led to more favours for other clients, establishing her as a formidable weapon to be called upon as needed until she turned the tables once again and created a reputation as a deadly female assassin for hire.

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Ortiz jogged onto the patio two hours later and handed Luane a file, leaving with a slight bow and a compliment for his industry. The file on April Weston was thin with the only really interesting information coming after her assumption of the care of Wayne Jenner.

Ortiz had theorized in a sheet of comments, over the demise of Wayne Jenner's wife at the Balsam Grove facility and how Jenner himself was having an inordinately long recovery period. Luane smiled at the news. Another woman with an agenda; she liked that, that might be something she could use. She carried the file into the house and dressed for her massage appointment.