The Bitter Truth

By Ed Silva

Black Operative Richard Maxwell is skilled in ways inconceivable. Destined to protect the woman he was once assigned to kill, he begin investigating another enigmatic piece of her past. A mystery that could expose an irreprehensible truth to England…The Bitter Truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781387296859

Book preview

THE BITTER TRUTH

ALSO BY ED SILVA

The Imperfect Plan

THE BITTER TRUTH

ED SILVA

978-1-387-29685-9

Imprint: Lulu.com

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions in this expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the material in this book.

The Bitter Truth

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright 2022 Ed Silva.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Artwork ‘The Castle’ rights 2022 Anderson Galindo.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To my wife, Luana.

1

London was awakening to a damp and gloomy day. The air coming in the room was so heavy with humidity that it became difficult to breathe. It was under such conditions that Richard Maxwell walked to the corner of the vacant room and looked out the window. The city was covered with a mist that caused the street to look eerie.

Dropping to one knee, he set his bag down and unzipped it. Emptying the contents, he laid them out on the carpet floor in a precise manner. In under a minute, he assembled his rifle and placed a bullet in the chamber. Then, pointing the rifle towards the window, he eased his right eye in behind the scope and rotated it into focus.

He stared down at the front entrance to the House of Parliament.

Two blocks away.

One of the Detectives from the Scotland Yard Criminal Investigation Department stepped out of the elevator, turned left at the hallway and followed one of the Guards from the Parliament Security details. The hall was furnished with dark red carpeting, orchid and lilies that flowed out of brown ceramic pots and oversized crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. There were two Sentries from the Coldstream Guards posted by a dark wooden door to their right, preventing the passage of unauthorized personnel.

She noticed they were dressed with an oversized military headdress made of black fur and a red uniform with gold buttons. The sight of them almost made her smile, but she thought otherwise as they displayed their rifles. The building was silent except for the hum of the giant ventilation system. The Guard that she was following knocked on the door and glanced at her as she stopped beside him. He observed her frame. She was shorter than him, and she had the body of a runner.

They heard the dead bolt lock slide back with a heavy thunk, causing the Guard to return his attention to the door and stare straight ahead; with a face that betrayed no signs of emotions.

The air conditioning was set to high and the air in the room was freezing, causing the Detective to shiver as she walked inside.

Ugh, I should have brought my blazer. She thought while rubbing her arms.

Her sandy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a white blouse, short black skirt and black heels. Her C.I.D. Detective shield hung between her breasts from a necklace around her neck. She observed that the room was relatively spacious. It had a long table with ten chairs, gray synthetic carpet, and white tile overhead. Bright halogen lights illuminated inside.

There was another man in the room. He had his back to her, and he was looking down at the object on top of the table. He was wearing a black suit and pants. He had the tell-tale earpiece of the secret service in his ear. The guard from the Parliament Security detail walked around the table and stood face—to—face with them. He observed that the woman he brought in the room was still and silent. She took a step closer to the table. A strand of hair fell to the side of her face as she studied a single sheet of paper that was on top of the table. The words were printed in Italics oversized Lucida dark fonts: The Prime Minister is targeted for elimination, and he will be assassinated.

She felt her heart beat quickening. She glanced up while pulling the strand of hair from the side of her face to behind her ear.

When did this come through?

The guard from the Parliament Security detail furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and glanced at his wristwatch.

It was found one hour and a half ago.

You found it just like this, on top of this table?

No, it came in through the Fax machine, next door over—in the Prime Minister Secretary’s Office. He explained. She is the one who found it.

The C.I.D. Detective looked around, and then returned her attention to the guard. Where is the Prime Minister’s Secretary?

We have an Agent escorting her to the bathroom, she will return shortly.

It was found one hour and a half ago.

You found it just like this, on top of this table?

The woman looked down at the paper again. The Prime Minister is targeted for elimination, and he will be assassinated. As she continued to read the phrase over and over again, the smooth and shiny gloss of the table reflected their images. She suddenly turned her head as she heard a sound coming from behind them.

It was the Prime Minister’s Secretary. She entered the room while crying and waving her cellular.

I’ve tried everything to get in touch with him. His cell phone just keeps ringing, and I used a secured line to call his house and no one picked it up either. I’m scared.

The Agent pulled a chair for her and she sat down. The C.I.D Detective looked at the Secretary and watched her sitting down. She decided to wait before asking any questions.

She would sob oneself to sleep right now anyways.

She shot a glance at the Secret Service Agent and saw him speaking on his wrist microphone. He was getting in contact with an Agent named Fox, and he was asking him to go check the Prime Minister’s house.

The Security Detail Agents at the Prime Minister’s house are not responding either?

She found that to be very strange.

She returned her attention to the guard from the Parliament Security detail with a puzzled look on her face.

What is going on?

Cars zipped by endlessly as he observed the movement of Agents that were assigned to secure the perimeter around the Parliament. Richard stared at the front doors as they swung open. He raised the silenced barrel of the rifle from the windowsill and aimed the crosshairs on the person exiting the building. He used the thumb of his right hand to press a button on his watch to start the chronometer. Then he hit it again to pause the time as soon as the person disappeared behind a tree.

It takes seven seconds for the person to cross the sidewalk in front of the Parliament and enter the Government vehicle idling at the curb.

He followed the Agent that had left the building to the curb. The Agent then stopped and looked up and down the street. A taxi passed by while blowing its horn. The Agent turned towards the underground garage of the Parliament. Orange floodlights spilled out onto the sidewalk. The Agent brought his wrist microphone to his mouth and said something as he quickened his pace towards the underground.

I only have three second to press the trigger after the door swings open and before the target hides behind a tree planted on the sidewalk...

Three Agents ran across the underground garage, heading towards an unmarked black Range Rover with dark tinted windows idling near the elevator. Flashing devices, mounted on the front grill on the vehicle blinked red and blue, while the headlights flashed white. Special Agent Fox, assigned

to protect the Prime Minister, was the first to arrive at the Range Rover. He sat on the passenger seat. The other Agents arrived shortly after and the vehicle took off with a squeal of its tires before anyone had time to fasten their seat belts.

Richard was about to look away from the underground garage when the sound of skidding tires caught his attention. Then, a shiny black Range Rover with heavy tinted windows left the ramp with a squeal of its tires and merged into traffic.

The Range Rover broke away from the rest of the traffic and came towards him. The driver was pressing the horn steadily in short beeps. The passenger was another unsmiling man who watched the road from the front seat. They were both wearing sunglasses and a black suit coat open, revealing a white button down shirt and a black necktie.

Special Agents, Richard thought, his eyebrows showing that he was impressed. They must have received the letter.

Keeping low, Special Agent Fox jogged towards the back of the house. Heavy green hedges hemmed in to his left. The hedges weren’t ornamental, twenty feet high and too thick for anyone to see past, they were serving as protection to the Prime Minister’s mansion. The smell of fresh cut grass filled the air.

Two other Agents stepped through the dark wooden gate and moved swiftly to behind the house. Agent Fox darted around the corner of the mansion and took the granite steps to the patio. To the left of the patio a slate—tiled pool appeared into view. He approached the sliding door while keeping his back to the wall and waited for the other Agents before proceeding.

The door was open a crack, and he felt a chill running through his body.

Once the other two Agents arrived, Agent Fox looked back and signaled for one of then to open the door. The Agent nodded and crept cautiously to the door. Agent Fox drew his 9mm semi-automatic, pulled the slide back and allowed it to slam forward with a resounding metal on metal clank. The other Agents opened the door and stepped back; out of his way. Agent Fox moved towards the opened door while raising his service weapon and aiming it forward. He immediately caught movement to his left and changed the direction he was aiming at, at an astonishing speed.

He found himself aiming his gun at Lucia Dvorska’s head. Lucia was the Prime Minister’s wife and she was standing behind the kitchen island while cutting carrots with an aide. She exchanged glances with the aide, and as if on cue, they both dropped their knives on top of the kitchen island and stood still.

Lucia was wearing faded blue jeans with a tight brown shirt, which was opened two buttons, enough to reveal a black laced bra. She had piercing brown eyes and straight shoulder length hair. Agent Fox lowered his gun to his side.

The Prime Minister has chosen well...

Bringing his wrist microphone to his mouth, he reported in.

We have the wife. She is safe. Over.

An undistinguishable chatter filled the room. Someone was speaking on the Secret Service’s earpiece and he listened intently while touching his right ear. Then, he looked at both women and they gave him their undivided attention.

The Prime Minister’s wife is safe. He announced.

Oh! Thank God! The Secretary whispered while clasping her hands.

What about the Prime Minister himself? The C.I.D. Detective arched her eyebrows. Where is he?

Silence.

The Agent leaned forward and rested his hands on top of the table. No one knows where he is.

Richard understood that the mood inside of the Parliament would turn grim once they realized that the Prime Minister had disappeared. He saw it happening ahead of time. Now what he still wondered was what would happen if they located him with a suicide letter folded in one of his hands?

Would that be disturbing...? ...Or disgusting?

A Security Guard appeared behind Agent Fox and looked at Lucia.

Ma’am, I am going to check the premises.

She nodded, and then looked out the kitchen window towards the backyard. As the sunlight spilled in through the glass, Agent Fox saw gleams of daylight in her eyes. They sparkled brilliantly. He tried to follow her gaze through the glass of the sliding door and caught two Agents walking by the

fence in the backyard. The garden was in full bloom. Chirping birds flew away from a white stoned birdbath as soon as they noticed the presence of the Agents.

He returned his attention towards her and asked.

Ma’am, I’m going to need to inspect your Husband’s study. Could you take me there please?

She nodded and walked out of the kitchen. Her sandals clapped against the mahogany wooden floor. He followed her through the living room while readjusting the position of his earphone in his right ear. The air was cool and the house was quiet. A wooden fan spun slowly on the ceiling. They passed by a medium size pot of fresh cut orchid and tulips that was on top of a coffee table, and he noticed that the flowers were filling the room with fragrance. He saw a sixty-inch flat screen T.V. against one of the walls, and the reflection of the Agent who had passed by them moments ago, was heading upstairs.

Lucia stopped at the door to the Prime Minister’s study and punched in the code for his security lock. The light turned red to green and she twisted the handle. The Prime Minister’s study looked terrific and well organized. Red carpet; stoned walls; a leather armchair that faced a fireplace paved with red bricks. Fire irons were hooked from above on a horizontal

ledge. The wood made popping noises as they were burned in the hearth.

Agent Fox walked to the Prime Minister’s desk and glanced around. He moved his fingers on top of the desk and felt the smooth surface. There was a desk lamp with green lampshade illuminating a book on top of the desk. He spun the book so he could read the title: The Fall. He took his fingers off the book, and was about to turn around when a red dot reflecting off the glass of a cabinet behind the desk grabbed his attention. He also saw Lucia’s reflection. She was standing by the door while holding a picture frame.

Returning his attention to the red flashing dot reflecting on the glass of the cabinet, he pulled the chair towards him and looked down.

What is this? He caught a glimpse of the object. A bomb canister...

Crouching, he quickly realized that he had been wrong and he felt alleviated. It was a fax machine. The blinking light was to alert the user that the fax machine had run out of paper. He also observed that the Prime Minister had received a fax and it was lying upside down on the received slot. He grabbed the paper and straightened. The glow from the fire illuminated the paper with bright colors. His eyes grew big as he continued to read the paper and his hands started trembling.

For the love of God!

No...No...No!

Four Agents in dark overcoats were out on the sidewalk looking cautiously and serious. Time to time they checked upper—story windows; they all knew that covering all windows was impossible; so they decided to stay around the Parliament. It was good rifle territory, everything clustered; from emergency exits to narrow alleys.

There was a tiny sound in Richard’s earpiece and he turned from the Agents to down the Avenue. Two Westminster Police Units turned at the intersection. Then a black Range Rover with heavy tinted windows appeared. Two Unmarked BMWs were tailgating the Range Rover.

The convoy passed by a Security Guard that was standing inside of a glassed booth and went down the steep ramp of the underground garage. Thick concrete pillars supported the weight of the ceiling. The convoy stopped near the elevator, the two unmarked BMWs stopped and the backup agents got out. They fanned out in front of the Prime Minister’s Range Rover. One of them stepped to the right rear door and waited for the visual confirmation of Security. Then, he opened the door and the Prime Minister stepped out of his car into the asphalt.

The Prime Minister Harvey Mills was known for his striking good looks and self-confident manner. He readjusted the coat he was wearing, closed one of the buttons and started walking towards the elevator.

The C.I.D. Detective tensed her jaw muscles and glanced at her wristwatch. Everyone in the room was silent. The combination of not being able to get in contact with the Prime Minister and the horrifying threat the note posed to his life was nerve racking. Suspenseful. Puzzling.

How is this—?

Someone suddenly opened the door and broke her concentration. The Deputy Prime Minister walked in. He immediately saw the surprised looks on the faces of the Secretary and of the Guard. He didn’t recognize the woman next to the Secretary.

Who was she anyways?

Good morning ladies and gentlemen.

Sir, where is the Prime Minister? The stranger asked, sounding authoritative and demanding.

He stared at her with a fierce who—the—hell—are—you? Momentary look and asked in return.

Excuse—me, and you are ma’am?

The C.I.D. Detective held her gold Detective badge that was hanging from her necklace.

Elizabeth Johnson and I’m with Scotland Yard.

The Prime Minister appeared in the hallway and entered the room. He closed the door and stopped in front of the Deputy Prime Minister. The Secretary got up and stood the position of attention, but suddenly brought one of her hands to her mouth and started crying.

The Prime Minister looked at the Security Guard and raised his eyebrows.

Can someone explain to me what is going on?

The C.I.D. Detective spoke up faster than the Guard. Sir, you are in grave danger. She moved to the side so

the Prime Minister could see the sheet of paper on top of the table. You have been targeted for elimination.

The Prime Minister looked down at the paper and read:

The Prime Minister is targeted for elimination, and he will be assassinated.

For a long moment, he didn’t reply. He was always careful with his words.

Empty threats. He shrugged and walked to the window.

Silence.

The Secret Service Agent walked behind him and showed him a yellow sticky note. The Prime Minister looked over his left shoulder and read the note: He gave us an important clue.

The Prime Minister knitted his eyebrows and raised the venetian blinds. The sunlight spilled in and brightened the room. The Agent showed another note to him. Twelve letters...

The C.I.D. Detective and the head of the Security Guard detail exchanged glances.

What is this about?

They already knew the Prime Minister would hate to be embarrassed publicly.

Sir, we are going to take a logical approach to this problem, regardless if it’s just ‘empty threats.’ The C.I.D. Detective gave her input.

The Prime Minister had his back to her and he was staring out the window.

The sight of London is something worth seeing...

He grabbed his snifter and turned away from the window.

Twelve letters... He glanced at the Agent that showed him the sticky note, and then looked down at the paper on top of the table.

The Prime Minister is targeted for elimination, and he will be assassinated.

He gave us an important clue...

h...n...i...t...d...m...o...e...w...i...a...d

Now unscramble them...

w...h...i...t...e...d...i...a...m...o...n...d.

Richard readjusted the view of his scope while zooming in at the window he saw something move. He looked for the flash of sun on the glass then spotted a person with his back away from the window. He moved his head away from the scope while arching his brows and feeling his heart beat quickening. He doubled checked his aim.

He was looking at the Prime Minister.

Readjusting the rifle so the crosshairs would be on the back of the Prime Minister’s head, he flicked the safety off and...

The Prime Minister sipped from his snifter and felt the glow of the golden liquid in his mouth. Cognac was one of his indulgences. Agent Fox suddenly opened the door and approached the table.

Sir, I’ve just received the news you were in here and that you are safe. However, I’ve found this in your study.

The Prime Minister stepped away from the window and approached the table.

"Do you have any idea who could be