The Chapter On Mochtar Kumar, The Impaler

Jose Leveriza First Novel Serialized In Blog

Angel of The Lord (Part 13)

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Richard Linderstein was in his best element manipulating with solitary chutzpah the highly technical reins of the first fleet of star wars satellites. They teach you the basics from the voluminous manuals supplied by the manufacturer. After the payoff, there is little else to sustain the after service interest. Waddle in strange waters or ionospheres, Richard did like a duck to water. The abyss between outer space and cyberspace was his virtual private playground.

Vesuvius was his favorite. Voyeurism was never his thing, but it occurred to him a few times which he resisted by invoking his steadfast adherence to high professional ethics that he can very well spot what brand of panties Lindsay is currently wearing if she did at all. That’s not to say he did not rack his brain for any drop of the hat national security issue to justify such an indiscretion. Alas poor Aleck, there was none. He steeled his resolve and comported to usual routines by probing deep into the shadows of the Vatican.

Today was the day to tag Bader Sayuff. Richard thought to wait for the exact bearings promised by Jason Burke but he wanted to preempt the anti climactic tightening of the noose. If Boracay is the hideaway to focus on, he meant for Vesuvius to comb through it with doubled intensity one last time like in a video game challenge. Transvestites are the easiest to spot. Why a self avowed Muslim anarchist would choose that disguise is at the same time obviously clever and obnoxiously distasteful. Islam is the most stringently anti-homosexual of all religions.

Bader Sayuff flaunted sexual wares under the lusty pseudonym ‘Barbeera Badaffi.’ His or rather now, her thighs flowed like pale meaty Turkey legs underneath scanty miniskirts. The bony knees and the lumpy lower legs gleamed with an odd whiteness marked with porous dots where hair grew lushly before they were razed fanatically. Her bobbing twin balloons on the chest promised cushioned refuge from the bull neck fronted by a protruding Adam’s apple and flanked by barrel hard biceps. The saving grace was the armpit which offered a plucked chicken’s bareness with mottled skin.

Boracay Island was Barbeera’s haunting and hunting wonderland. From the pristine sheen of the one mile stretch of white beach to the crags and gullies of the uphill promontories that overlooked the bubbly white breaks topping blue waves that crested at the back, no perverted self effacing closet queen or flagrantly outlandish fag fairy was safe from his predatory excursions. Bader preyed on them for money. This was all in furtherance of his self assumed convenient cover in the pursuit of counter intelligence while on the other hand it served the more immediate pull of outright pecuniary greed.

Nightfall comes and the whole of Boracay Island glows to life with torch lights and bawdy music in and around bars and discos fronting the beach. Hairs are let down and dancing with strange acquaintances picked off the cuff is not a rare event. In the excitement, people just warm up to one another forgetting social barriers or constraints. Fun is the name of the game as well as the end. Wining and dining are mere tools up the ladder to more intimate encounters which begin with the first undulations on the impromptu dance floor.

Barbeera cozied up to the huge hunky Indian slouched at the bar. His forehead was lined by a pompous growth of black curled eyebrows. It made the crevice to his eyes more pronounced and deep set. A high bridged hawkish nose served like a dike which rose over the depression made by his eyes and cheeks. He had a patch of red skin under the eyelids which changed to a swarthy suntanned luster over the cheekbones and the rest of the way. All Barbeera could detect as she was inevitably drawn to him was the smell of new found wealth that abounded in the Indian subcontinent after the Chinese economic miracle gave impetus to the region.

The RRrrrrrr’s came slurring both from the pronounced accent and the tipsiness from the spirits imbibed. “Hello, my lady you are one gorgeous tantalizing piece of ass”. “Can I offer you a drink?” Barbeera lifted her glass and smiled. “That’s not what I need caboodle.” “What I really need is a strong pair of arms like yours to take me to heaven.” Barbeera ran her lizard skinned tongue over her painted lips and hoped that the preview would stir unholy reverberations in the gut of the droopy behemoth. The giant Indian was probably as strong as a mule but having had one drink too many, he could easily be taken out with Bader’s standard chloroform rag. Then his wallet will be easy picking.

The Indian was not easily fooled. “You are a man.” “But I like that.” “I want to make wild fucking love to your behind.” Bader dropped his drink which splintered on the floor bringing the waiter running. “Oh my, so I see, gulp, “Barbeera blushed over her thick make up cake and croaked out of sync with her studied falsetto drivel. “That will cost you twice the usual fee my dearie,” she blurted out crudely, surprising even herself. “My handsome princess, money is no object as long as you can bend over to my will”. “Ho ha he haw”, the oversized shoulders of the gargantuan Indian heaved as he found mirth in the double entendre. “Hi hi hi, “Barbeera forced a faint cackle to prod him along as she led his hairy arms to coil warmly around her 38 inch girdled waist.

Richard frowned unsure of what was going on. He clicked the zoom to enlarge the image. “That’s Bader no doubt.” He was an easy mark for Vesuvius once Richard typed the keyword transvestite after his name on the search engine. Richard chose to play along and not ruffle the scene prematurely. He wanted to see how Bader was going to play out this scene. Guiltily, he purposely strayed from pressing the alarm that will send a jet propelled stealth helicopter over the ocean with blond blue eyed ninjas in black to ferret and whisk the target to Guadalcanal international prison.

“Call me Mochtar the Impaler,” with one heavy arm the towering Indian drew Barbeera closer. “Impaler, whatever that means,” Barbeera grew pale with foreboding. He, she felt for the ready bottle of chloroform in her handbag. He, she was growing more confused as they treaded the last unsteady steps to his Casbah. “How much cash do you have on you my big lover hunk, will you really make it worth my turn as shish kebab?” Bader turned sour at his own wry humor. “Shish kebab, ha ha ha ha,” the joke ignited rollicking laughter on the part of the Indian hulk. He smacked Bader with a king size kiss on the cheek which smudged the deep layer of make up. “No my dear virgin, the pole you will ride today is wider and longer than a California Redwood.” And he pounded Bader many times on the back which threw Bader forward to plaster against the door.

Barbeeera AKA Bader run the planned sequence in his mind quickly as he stripped off his clothes on the bed and hid the rag and bottle of chloroform under the mattress. He could hear the faucet running in the toilet as the giant washed his over sized limbs and appendages. I will take my turn at the restroom, put on my frilly negligee and sprinkle overpowering perfume all over my body. I will open the door ajar, just ever so slightly, and coo to him to lie back on the bed, douse the ceiling lights and leave just the night lamp on. I will spring my big surprise, run to the bed, and straddle him with all my might. I will tickle him with hardy strokes of my playful tongue and fingertips and lull him to turn around on the bed. That’s when I will strike with the chloroform. Hopefully I will be picking his wallet happily after he’s gone to deep sleep.

Things turned awry after the tickling part. The giant convulsed and bucked like a mechanical bronco and threw Bader off to the floor. His head hit hard and he passed out. Next thing he knew he was face down on top of the bed with both his hands tied with a tightly wound white undershirt to the headboard. His panties were ripped off and his naked butt protruded like a round target towards the back totally defenseless. Bader or Barbeera, whatever, that is the least important now, tugged and clawed at the knot to get free. He could probably untie it if he persisted at the effort for a few minutes but what to do in the meantime before the giant mounted him from behind sent shivers down his spine.

He glanced back and jumped with a start at the humongous scabbard that the Indian unsheathed with two hands. Never was there so much for so little, Bader thought mercifully of his tight constipated ass which has never been poked with even the smallest enema in the past. “Wait, it’s all a big mistake,” he let out a blood curdling yell as he felt the Indian invade his inner sanctum with a force that seemed to burst open the surrounding walls of his anus. He gagged and felt a big bombshell bludgeon all his insides towards his mouth. Eerily he felt orgasmic ejaculation down below. The humping in and out made Bader blimp on and off like a blowfish. The toxins and the dried crusty wastes lining the walls of his colon got scraped down. The gases in Bader’s stomach expanded with the whirling of free radicals that were loosened by the pressing friction. Bader’s ass blew like Mt. St. Helena’s volcanic eruption.

The mega tonic fart almost blew the Indian and his big stick to the ceiling. Lava flow steamed out like the curry sauce that Bader loved to eat all the time. The Indian was so shocked by the pop and overcome by the stench that he ran and locked himself up in the bathroom and refused to come out. Bader extricated himself from the sea of feces on the bed after he was able to untangle the knot. He thought about looking for the wallet but the slimy feel of wet blobs on the floor changed his mind. He wrapped himself with the clean bed sheet and jumped out of the window to the white sand below.

Richard fell off his chair and bit his lip. Necks craned in alarm as he picked himself up to run to the men’s room. He locked the door and let himself go with a howl from the deepest stitches. He completely forgot about the blond blue eyed ninjas on stand by.

“Something’s going on with Richard.’’ Kimberly whispered in hush tones to Kelly. “He is laughing in the toilet all by himself.” “Think maybe the he needs a long vacation?” “Yeah”, Kelly surmised, “they say Boracay Island is the best beach to go”



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ANGEL OF THE LORD NOVEL IN BLOG (PART 12)

Angel of The Lord Novel In Blog (Part 12)

Previously:

Please Click This For Angel of The Lord Part 11

Baste came barging into the room at the heels of the two other bumbling crime fighters. Sheaf of official documents in his hands, he shook his head in embarrassment when he saw his boss glare at them from the doorway to his inner office. The overweight rear guard down on his luck and on the floor held his bruised nape. He attempted to sit up but sagged to his left in a vain effort to get back on his feet.

“Pare, amoy beer kayo, don’t get close to the boss man he might detect the reek of the drink you had,” Baste pulled the two beefy operatives back. “Boss, sir, e medyo naging slapstick and pangyayari, the thing just blew out of hand.” Baste approached the newly hailed Deputy Director mournfully. The lifelong nemesis of crime, Marcos Tiongco nodded regrettably. The heady march to the capital flushed with merit awards upset the equilibrium of the men. Plus they were unused to the painstaking regimentation in an urban setting.

Mike felt the cold wall on his back and rested his weary head against it. The cell phone vibrated with a throbbing urgency in his left pocket. Its palpable connection to his real world made his present predicament all the more stark and misshapen. No way could he reach for it with his hands bound by the tight cuffs from behind. He just prayed that the whole thing will come to pass and he could go back to exploring the limits of his newly discovered wonderful world with Lassel. She served as the safety net, the punch bag to absorb his plunge to despondency after the crash and the burning spiral from his unrequited love gone bust for his high school mentor and martial arts guru, Marita Dalit.

What’s done can only be covered, twisted, improvised or cleaned up. That was the rule they applied to messy situations up in the hinterlands. It’s like staging a scene for the movies. You insert props here and there and coerce the characters to parrot lines you feed them and the whole scene falls in place according to the script. Up in the distant arenas higher from the sea level, the rules of evidence are most pliable. You can actually bend them to suit your ends or the bright side of crime statistics.

“Baste let’s get this mess cleaned up fast before all our careers get flushed down the toilet.. Carry down your dazed gladiator to the clinic for first aid, get your accounts settled in admin, and prepare your van for the long trip back to Cagayan”. I will report this brouhaha as a traffic altercation. We’ll let the driver off the hook for damaging government property, hit and run and resisting arrest if he will sign a waiver absolving the team of the physical injuries. This boy can walk if he signs a similar affidavit of desistance. Otherwise he’ll have to face charges of assaulting peace officers and spend two years attending court hearings before he even gets close to a favorable verdict. Eventually he will opt for a trade after the rigors wear him out.”

The Director hurried back inside his office to get the phone. Baste hoisted the left arm of the bent warrior on his shoulder and led him out to the elevator. The two burly inebriated plainclothesmen left in the room couldn’t believe that the planned celebrations had taken such an ugly turn. The congratulatory whirl of performance bonuses, citations, handshakes, pats on the back, and most delectable of all, endless rounds of ice cold frothy beer danced elusively in their clouded visions. They turned to Mike and turned red with outrage at the role he played to abort their deserved plaudits.

“You know what we do with your likes back home? We erase them from the face of the earth. Zero, zilch, lost and never found.” One of them pulled Mike by the hair and slapped his head in disgust. “Why don’t you feel so mighty now, super hero,” the other tugged at Mike’s collar, pulled him up then shoved him back against the wall to bump his head. Mike knew better to crane his neck forward and let the upper bend of his shoulder take the impact. Mike’s evasive action incensed the thug to fly out of control and he started spitting on Mike below and kicking him on the left rib. Mike timed it and kicked his pivot foot while the attacking foot was hanging in the air. Poor guy plowed to the hard flooring.

“Putang ina ka talaga, you are a goner”, his upright sidekick pulled out his firearm to shoot Mike. “Wait pare, not like that, that’s too easy”, the fallen partner recovered quick enough to stop him. “He is super boy, I bet he can fly out of the window.” Both of them stared at each other with gleeful mischief. “C’mon let’s carry him to the penthouse and see how far he can dive without a cape.” They left without the comatose driver. They manhandled Mike who kicked and bit every step of the way to the elevator to the penthouse. Mike’s screams brought the cleaning lady running down the corridor. “Help call somebody, they plan to throw me out the window, call for help please’, Mike hollered desperately. She saw the two custodians had gone over the edge after they scowled at her with a malevolent eye. She stood there and watched helplessly as the elevator door closed.

The penthouse was accessible by a short winding stairway from the topmost floor. They dragged Mike bodily to bounce repeatedly against the cement steps. Mike snagged his feet on the edges to delay the ascent but their heave up proved stronger. They reached the open air balcony which was always deserted because of the steaming heat. The brown smog made the scorching glare from the sun seem eerie like. They ran pell-mell towards the ledge with Mike in tow. Mike prayed to his avowed Almighty Warrior God of Israel, “I thank my foes for they send me to meet You this day, Beloved Father”.

Richard knew he needed top clearance from the highest level. He is not supposed to treat satellites like personal toys to be used at whim. But there is no time for that now. Going out in the open air balcony was a big mistake. It left one like a sitting duck to all the star war death rays in the heavens. Besides after they vaporize, who the heck will know except the grateful boy. He pressed the laser button to zap with precise beams two running dots in the rooftop. Mike crashed like a wavy heap against the bottom of the ledge. The pair of devilish executioners disappeared in a plume of sparks and white smoke above him.

By Providence or coincidence, Richard dispensed karmic comeuppance to these inhuman transgressors to suffer the same ironic fate which they readily served their countless victims from his lofty perch in the chasm that bridged celestial and cyber space. Zero, zilch, gone without a trace.

With one smote of His Mighty Hand against evil, Mike knew deep in his heart the Warrior God of Israel had answered his prayer once again. Resoundingly to his face, just like that first time when he called on Him for justice as his nanny bled to death in his arms as a ten year old.


Please click here for Angel of The Lord Part 13

ANGEL OF THE LORD NOVEL IN BLOG (PART 8)

ANGEL OF THE LORD NOVEL IN BLOG (PART 8)

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please click here for Part 7

Jason’s smart flare stopped the rain of blows momentarily for Mike. Reeling from the pain and fazed by cruel torture for the first time in 18 years, he lapsed to mumbling abject prayers of resignation. “Take me now O’ Father Almighty. Take me away from this place.”

The wincing and limping crew of strong arm sleuths dragged Mike and the wasted driver over the token resistance from the cops on the beat. “This is NBI business in front of our headquarters. We have jurisdiction. You should not interfere with our investigation.” “Anong investigation ba yan, that’s more like an execution”, one officer objected. “Naku, akala mo ay hindi marunong mang salvage kayo ha, don’t you be sanctimonious, Mr. Dirty Harry “, the more senior deputy countered with sarcasm and waved the appalled patrolmen aside.

Heaping abuse and raining blows on the pair of captives at every chance, they bodily towed Mike and his fallen cohort like lifeless heaps and unceremoniously tossed them head first into the back of their unmarked police van. Before that, Mike was cuffed with a tenacity that almost snapped his arms. With hands pinned behind him and unable to break the fall, Mike’s smooth face scraped heavily against the hard corrugated flooring without carpet cover.

The duty officer at the entrance tried to halt the advance of the ragtag group with their beaten prey. ‘Er mga brod, the SOP around here is to book them first at detention over at the ground floor of Bugarin Bldg. across the driveway. Besides those two look like they are ready to croak. Take them to the clinic first to be revived”. “Nah, Deputy Director Tiongco wants them brought right away to his office to shed light on a very top level and highly sensitive case. National security matter to, pare ko.”

With one fell swoop, the gang of roughneck lawmen managed again to name drop their way and pull rank in the name of their former Regional Director. It probably worked like clockwork 500 miles north of the capital to lead to record stats in crimes solved but could be telling enough to cause a serious career setback for the new Deputy Director in a different environment which was more steeped in human rights advocacy and due process of law.

The group commandeered the first elevator to open. They thumbed to the fourth floor and swung the body of the driver with the head as the bumper to serve as a battering ram to break open the door to their office. They chuckled at their own antics to assuage their past hurts during the fracas at the street below. Growing more virulent, they sadistically threw the crumpled bodies to the floor against the wall in front of their desks.

La Salle University campus was only two train stops from the scene. Jason raced across the manicured Bermuda turf of the football field. He was sporting his green varsity jacket by now and ran barefoot with his black trousers rolled up to calf length at the seams. To complete the change in disguise and also to mark his flair for fashion, he tied a matching green bandana around his head. It both served as a neat cover for the auburn hair and the right accent for the bright green jacket emblazoned with an archer perched on one knee pulling at an arrow to fire away.

Barefoot was his trademark style. He could play a mean game of basketball over any terrain unshod. This was gained from countless street balls and brawls in his home state of Indiana where basketball was more a credo than just a game. And Jason could really dribble that ball more adroitly than any point guard known to man. He could do multiple crossovers while barefoot. He can dribble behind, between his legs, on the run, and even backwards with the robotic moves of Michael Jackson. No wonder the hopes of the De La Salle University Green Archers for next season’s basketball championship in the NCAA local counterpart league were pinned inevitably on Jason’s savvy with the ball.

For this they gifted him with an athletic scholarship for a PHD in Electronic and Computer Engineering, and ten pairs of Nike shoes, all made in the U.S. of A. Besides his feet were too oversized to fit the ones made in China.

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NOBLE AGING HAS GIVEN THESE WISE ELDERS ICONIC MATURITY AND LEADERSHIP WITH GEMS OF WISDOM TO IMPART

BUT THE PHYSICAL DOWNSIDE LEAVES THEM LIMP AND LEAKING DOWNSTAIRS TO ACCIDENTALLY WET THEIR PANTS

THEIR PASSION FOR EXCELLENCE AND DRIVE FOR KNOWLEDGE HAVE ELEVATED THEM TO SENIORITY WITH LOFTY STATURE

BUT THE INCONTINENCE TIES THEM LIKE ELASTIC BUNGEES TO THE TOILET TO ANSWER OFT REPEATED CALLS OF NATURE

LET THEM HARNESS AND MOLD YOUR MINDS TO BREACH STRATOSPHERES OF GREATNESS YOU'VE NEVER BEEN

BEST TO STAY AWAY DURING THE CLINCHES INSIDE THE WRESTLING RING LEST THEY BURST THEIR SPLEEN