The Relocators

The Relocators

BY

E. CLAUDIUS THOMPSON

The Relocators

E.Claudius Thompson

Copyright 2012 Earl Thompson

Smashwords Edition

Dedicated to Renee and Tanika, my daughters. I know it’s been a long time, but you’re always on my mind. With the help of God, I hope we will soon get together to make up for lost times.

CHAPTER 1

John Anderson was sitting by himself in a half empty plane on its way to Jamaica. He was pensive as he looked through the window at the clouds. The plane had left the Pearson International Airport over an hour ago. The hostesses had passed by with drinks and he had only taken himself a cup of Orange juice; his empty plastic cup was now sitting on the small table he had pulled down from the back of the seat in front of him.

Do you mind if I sit beside you? asked a good-looking woman who jolted him back to reality. He looked up at her and smiled.

Sure, go ahead.

Thank you, she said as she sat. My name is Clarissa Richard. She extended a hand; John shook it.

John Anderson; nice to meet you.

Clarissa Richard was a good-looking woman; she was tall, dark and had long, black hair; she resembled a model and spoke with an English accent.

Is this your first time going to Jamaica? she asked.

Yeah, I heard it’s a beautiful place.

She smiled sweetly, Yes it is. Especially the Northcoast.

That’s what I heard.

Are you going on a vacation?

Yeah. What about you?

Actually, I live there; I was on vacation in Canada and now I’m going back home, I’m a cop; I work on the Northcoast.

Do you like your job?

Yeah, it can be rough at times, but it’s good. What about you, what kind of a job do you do?

I don’t work.

Clarissa chuckled forcefully, Come on now, a young, strong man like you must work, unless you’re extremely rich.

I’m not rich.

So why don’t you work?

It’s a long story.

Clarissa glanced at her watch, We’ve got over two hours before we arrive in Jamaica; you can tell me.

I was something more like a secret agent.

Clarissa was obviously impressed; she smiled as she looked at him, Cool, you must have had lots of adventures.

You can say that.

So why did you leave it?

There were things I came to realize about the organization I worked for that I shouldn’t have found out.

Like what?

John smiled and looked at her, I’d better not tell you.

There you go, being secretive again.

I told you I was a secret agent.

So wait a minute, am I to understand that you’re hiding from the organization now?

In a sense.

You are, or you’re not, which is it?

John smiled, I’d rather not say.

How long are you going to be in Jamaica?

I will be there for awhile

What about your family?

I don’t have one.

Because you had to travel so much?

John smiled, You got it.

Dinner was served; John didn’t eat much of his, while Clarissa had all of hers. She looked at John as she wiped her mouth and put away the napkin in the tray beside her plate, Don’t like the food? she asked him.

It’s okay, I’m just not hungry.

When you go to Jamaica, I know you’re going to enjoy the meals there.

We’ll see.

John and Clarissa parted company at the Norman Manley International airport; the destination of the latter was the Northcoast.

There was a man at the Airport awaiting John; he had a placard with latter’s name written on it.

As John walked up to the man, he took John’s bag and introduced himself, My name is Rodney Clarke, and I’ll be responsible for you as from now on.

Rodney was a tall man, powerfully built and was wearing a muscle shirt. It was broad day and it was hot. Rodney was black.

John himself was tall and solidly built too, he was white, but was pretty tanned; he smiled forcefully at Rodney, Is everything arranged?

Everything is arranged, Mr. Anderson, Rodney said as he placed John’s stuff in the back seat of the car. He opened the front door for John, slammed it shut and went around to the driver’s side. He got in and started the engine; he buckled up and told John to do the same.

The ride from the Airport was a more or less a quiet one, John wasn’t in a talkative mood and Rodney could see that. Rodney glanced at him, Are you okay, Mr. Anderson?

Yes, I’m fine.

You’re not home sick, are you?

No, I’m fine, John said in what sounded like a dismissive tone.

The Wyndham hotel in New Kingston was where John was taken, he had a room booked. When he checked in, the good looking smiling clerk wished him a long and prosperous stay and watched as he strolled to the elevator lobby where he took the elevator to his room.

Once he was settled in, he got on the phone and made a long distance call. Jean, I made a mistake, he said when the phone was answered.

John, you cannot back down now, you know that, said the female voice at the other end.

I’m not going to do it.

John, listen to me, the sooner you do that, the sooner you’ll be able to get out and be relocated.

Jean, I know something you don’t, or rather something you didn’t tell me.

What?

I don’t want to be relocated.

What do you mean?

Jean, they don’t relocate you; they kill you and you know that.

Have you lost your mind? Jean asked, sounding rather frightened.

I know what I’m saying, Jean, and don’t pretend you don’t know.

John, you took this job, because you thought you could manage it.

I took this job because I wanted to get away; they were about to relocate me.

I know, but you asked for this job.

Because I wanted to get away, John reiterated more firmly.

Come on, John, don’t let me down.

I’m not letting you down, Jean; I’m trying to protect myself.

So what are you going to do now, John?

I’m afraid I can’t tell you.

John.

No response.

John!

John hung up the phone.

Jean Richmond was a tall, shapely white woman who was once a model. She was in her office in Toronto when she got the call. For a while she was thoughtful, not knowing what to do, but then she quickly reached for the phone and dialed a number. Jake, we’ve got a problem, she said once the phone was answered.

What’s happening?

We’ve lost agent 211.

What do you mean?

He’s not going to do the job and I think he has other plans.

What do you mean he is not going to do the job?

He just called me; I think he knows more than he should.

Damn, I always know I shouldn’t trust that guy.

What are we going to do?

I guess we are going to have to send in The Relocators.

He knows about them.

Who told him?

You’re asking the wrong person.

Jean, I’ll get back to you. Jake hung up. Jean did the same.

John called himself a taxi and paid two hundred U.S. dollars to relocate, he told no one where he was going.

CHAPTER 2

Later that day two black men were at the hotel to check up on John. The desk clerk tried to get a response from his room and when she couldn’t do so, she gave both men permission to go to there. When they checked, they realized that John had left; there was nothing of his that was left behind.

They hastened back down to the hotel lobby trying to find out from anyone if they had seen the white man who had checked in earlier that day, no one had seen him. Both men were flustered, they didn’t know what to do; they didn’t know what they were going to report back to their boss. They left the hotel in anger.

Back in Canada, Jake was at a party he was throwing at his home that night when the call came in, he asked to be excused and went to his study to answer it. He pulled up his swivel chair and dropped indolently into it, he picked up the phone and put up his feet on the desk; he had a glass of liquor in one hand. This had better be good, he said.

I’m afraid not, the male voice said, We’ve got bad news.

What’s the news?

John has disappeared.

Come on, Roger, Jamaica is a small island; he could not have gone far.

He is nowhere in Kingston.

What about the North-coast? Have you checked?

We haven’t checked as yet; the boss is getting angry; he said he thought you said you were going to be sending your best man.

Look, this thing will be straightened out sooner than you think; I promise you that.

Anyway, we’ll continue to look for him; we’ll get back in touch with you.

Sure. Jake hung up thoughtfully.

As soon as he did, an attractive middle-aged woman walked into the study; she was white. She smiled as she approached Jake, Sweetheart, you left your guest all by themselves; are you okay? she asked.

Yeah, I’m fine, He said listlessly and took his feet off the table.

Bad news?

Not really, just that things aren’t going the way we had planned them.

Sweetheart, she said as she bent and kissed him. Staring in his face, she said, Everything will be fine, I promise you. Let’s go back and entertain our guests.

You’re right. Jake pushed his chair out and stood; he put an arm around his wife’s waist, Let’s go do what we do best. He picked up his glass and together they walked out.

Jake Stanbury was tall and athletically built; he was white and slim and was in his mid to late forties. He knew he had a problem now that one of his agents had backed out of an assignment. This was something he had never anticipated even though for some reasons he had never trusted John Anderson. John was smarter than any other agent who had ever worked for him; he was very inquisitive and never took things as he saw them, he always liked to dig deeper, always wanted to know what was what.

Jake was alone in his study that night as he pondered over what he was going to do. His phone rang and when he answered it, it was Jean.

Hey, Jean, what’s up?

Agent 211 seems to have disappeared completely.

They can find him.

They have looked everywhere so far, nothing has turned up.

Why didn’t we relocate him when we had the chance?

I don’t know, Jake; we all make mistakes; I guess we thought we could trust him.

I guess we did.

John Anderson had booked himself into The Sheraton Hotel in Ocho Rios. He knew he couldn’t stay there; he knew they’d be looking for him in a hotel; he had to get out, but where could he go? He remembered the woman he had spoken to while he was on the plane, but what reason would she have to trust him? He wouldn’t open up to her while he was on the plane. And she said she was a cop; he probably would have to spill his gut to her, but would she believe him?

He had to risk it; he had no other choice. He picked up the phone and asked the operator for the number for the nearest police station, he got it and dialed. When it was answered, he asked for Constable Clarissa Richard.

Sir, we don’t have a Constable Clarissa Richard here, the male voice answered.

Are you sure? I met her while I was coming from Canada; we were on the same flight.

Oh, you mean Superintendent Richard? the constable asked.

Superintendent? She was fairly young; I thought she was a constable.

The Constable chuckled, Yeah, everyone thinks she is, but she is the one in charge of the division.

It’s late now, so she wouldn’t there, would she?

No, but I could give you the number to call her in the morning.

That would be great.

The Constable gave John the number and told him to call her in the morning; she was normally there at 9:00.

John had a restless night, but was glad when it was over. He called Clarissa as soon as he got up that morning. She hadn’t return to work as yet, but was just in to pick up some stuff; she answered the phone, Superintendent Richard speaking, may I help you?

Hey, Clarissa, this is John, remember me? The guy you met on the flight from Canada.

She smiled, Of course I remember you; you weren’t in too much of a talkative mood then; are you in such a mood now?

Yeah, and I think I need your help.

Where are you?

I’m in Ocho Rios.

When did you get there?

I got here yesterday.

Why? I thought you were going to stay in Kingston.

Something came up. Can we meet?

Where are you staying?

The Sheraton.

I have something to do, but I could meet you for lunch.

That would be great.

I’ll be there about 12:30; I’ll see you in the dining room.

Sure.

When Clarissa walked into the dining room at the Sheraton, Ocho Rios that afternoon, she was elegantly dressed and looking more feminine than the way John had remembered seeing her the first time. She had her hair hanging and looked even more beautiful than he had remembered. He got up and pulled out her chair for her; she sat. Thank you, she said.

You’re welcome, he said as he sat back where he previously was.

How are you? she asked, smiling.

Fine. How are you?

I’m good.

John was staring at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, You’re very attractive you know, he said finally and smiling.

Thanks, you’re not bad yourself. Now what do you want to talk to me about?

John held up a restraining hand, Hey, not so fast.

Okay, let’s take it easy, what is happening now?

Can’t we eat first?

I guess we can.

John picked up the menu which was in front of him, I heard the goat meat is very good here.

It is.

John lowered his menu and looked at her, Are you going to have that?

Yes.

He put down the menu, I’ll have what you have.

Good. She beckoned the waitress over.

After lunch, John decided to explain his situation to her; she was listening keenly. I told you that I was in a secret organization. I came to Jamaica because I want to leave it.

You told me you weren’t working but you didn’t tell me why.

I’m supposed to be working even now.

So why aren’t you?

I’m going to tell you. This is something I shouldn’t tell anyone, but somehow I think I can trust you. This organization thrives on creating confusion; I mean anarchy, the kind of confusion which destroys countries.

The look on Clarissa’s face was one of incomprehension; she didn’t get what he was saying. What are you trying to say to me?

Guys from my organization are sent to countries to kill important people as well as to do other daring things. But they are normally paid to do so by people who have something to gain from the death of that person or from whatever other things they do.

Give me an example.

For example, me, I was sent here to kill the Prime Minister.

Are you serious? Clarissa asked, incredulously.

I am. But I took this job not because I wanted to do it, but because I wanted to get away.

To get away from what?

The organization.

Have you ever done anything like this before?

No.

So why did they send you?

At the time I was the only one available.

So do you have any idea who would like to see the Prime Minister killed?

That I don’t know for sure, but I have someone I can ask to get the information for me.

So what do you want me to do?

I need some where to stay.

What about the hotel you’re staying now?

I can’t stay here for much longer; they’ll be coming to look for me and they’ll be scouring the whole city for me.

Who are they?

People from my organization.

The waitress came to clear the dishes; she smiled at them as she asked, Will that be all for today?

John looked at her, No, I’ll call you back when I need you.

Okay. She left them.

Why are they looking for you now? Clarissa asked.

I’ve left their organization and they think I know too much.

So they want to silence you?

Yes.

If I do this for you, what will you do for me?

I’ll try to find out who the person is who wants to see the Prime Minister dead.

There is nothing much we can do if we don’t have proof.

I’ll try to get the proof.

How?

He shrugs, I don’t know, I’ll just have to try.

How did you find yourself in such a situation?

Are you asking me about my life story?

No, only how you came to find yourself in such a situation.

It’s a long story.

Clarissa chuckled, But I have time.

It started about three years ago, I had just lost my job; I was desperate and a friend told me about this organization called ‘The Phoenix Contracting Company’.

So?

I went to apply for a job; they did a check on my background and I got the job.

And what was it you were employed to do?

At first I was told I would be going to different places to get contracts from people.

What kind of a contract?

That’s what I didn’t know. My job was to just go in, pick up documents that were already sealed and deliver it to where ever I was told to deliver it.

So at what point did you find out what this company was doing?

I started getting suspicious when I realized that people before me were being relocated.

Where were they being sent?

I didn’t know at first, but then I realize that these people were actually being killed.

Being killed? Why?

The organization was not what it appeared to be on the outside. When they recruit you, they make sure you don’t have any relatives.

Why?

Because when they get rid of you, they don’t want to have anyone asking around for you.

"Okay, so why did they ask you to do this job? Were you now completely familiar with what