Killingfields, THE Fourth in the cave sun series
Why Did You Come Here, to This Land?
An inferno erupts when an arms dealer’s classified weapon leaks in a hotbed of crime, threatening to expose the illusive elixir incubated in the covert territory of Ara Pacis.
US intelligence detects a most bizarre signature of secret emitters in the signal traffic of that area. They suspect a lone wolf has launched a cruel defense.
Unexpected details spring to life for attorney Craig Malcault; human tides stream into the many traps at the main river of Ara Pacis and dead bodies multiply. Who has unleashed this chain of events that lures the military into the treacherous quagmire?
It's been more than fifteen years since Craig’s client cunningly confronted the main competitor of the priceless biochemical conglomerate she built. The adversary never promised to play fair. Now as the secret spy rings scramble and alliances crumble, what the military does not have is insight into the lone wolf’s motives. Only Craig’s client can prevent the ultimate catastrophe. Does upholding Ara Pacis’ covenant require her to choose between her own life and honoring the chilling terms of the territory’s security agreement?
Excerpt
“Craig,” Stefan furrowed his brow. He enjoyed the morning breeze and did not want to behave contemptuously towards Craig. “You are being very solipsistic. And very idealistic. You will say she is like that, too; we all see reality according to our ways. Whose reality is it that Ara Pacis inhabits?” Stefan patiently glanced at Craig, ‘out of an abundance of caution,’ as Craig surmised. “If you want to change mine on a beach early in the morning when there is so much to which I have to attend, I regret to say, Mr. Malcault, you are severely mistaken.” “Then why does Your Honor kill people,” Craig persisted, “instead of attending to the so much to which there is to attend?”
“The heart has its reasons,” Stefan swiftly smiled. “You don’t survive long enough to understand.” Against his best intentions, Craig could not help but notice how the pallid, creeping dawn appeared to kiss the leadership of Ara Pacis like the angel’s wing caressed the thunderbolt on the territory’s emblem on the upper arm of his uniform. “When my land cries, I must obey; it is never me who passes the order.” A weight descended on Craig’s chest, his usual reaction when he felt someone may be addressing him as if he were not entirely mature. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Craig sighed, well familiar with theories demanding appeasement of the land. It was not permitted to abandon the land’s rules and requirements.
“I did not come here, Craig. I was a nobody who danced by night until God showed me this obligation. But I appreciate your opinion,” Stefan held out his right hand and added, “I am not one who does not allow others to speak! The island, as I said, is yours.” Craig observed the tautness and freshness of Stefan’s skin, which was highly unusual for someone who worked the ground and the trenches all his life. Accepting the gesture, Craig closed his fingers around the cool, unyielding palm. Stefan’s grip rooted him to the spot, preventing any motion as Craig sensed he had grown out of this ground to which he now belonged. (c) The Killingfields, by Maria Ian, 2024.