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CONFESSIONS OF A KILLER FROG

Kalika works for a secret organisation within the UN as an agent whose sole purpose is to maintain the power of the allied nations at all costs. She believed she had it all figured out, until her boyfriend betrayed her to the enemy, resulting in her capture and torture. She could never have anticipated the great chain of events that would unfold.

After months of torture by the Russians, Kalika finally finds herself caving into their demands after their threat upon her sister’s life. She must now find a way to bring down a local terrorist group while still upholding her duties with the UN. In the pursuit of freedom for her family Kalika is thrown into a chaotic world fraught with deceit, double agents and family secrets that tangle their way into her life. 

She doesn’t know who she can trust but she will do whatever it takes to save her sister, and if she can, save herself as well.

In Store Price: $23.95 
Online Price:   $22.95

ISBN: 978-1-921731-09-9   
Format: Paperback
Number of pages:136
Genre: Fiction
 

 


 

Author: K.L. Jackson
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published: 2010
Language: English

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About the author 

K.L. Jackson was born in 1988 in Toowoomba Queensland, who throughout her life, has had an over active imagination. As an only child it was her job to keep herself entertained before finally deciding to put that imagination to good use and pursue the life of an author.

Chapter 1 

H

ope rampaged through every inch of her body as she raced through the treacherous jungle, catching her clothing on the vines and shrubs in her way. Here, she was free. Free from terror, free from rules, free from the world.

The thick vegetation was not enough to hold her wild spirit, here, she had no restraints; here she was in her element.

She leapt over a large rock, landed on a fallen log that was covered with thick moss, and jumped to the damp ground, covered with rotting leaf matter. She paused momentarily like a poised cat readying herself for action and surveyed her surroundings serenely for any sign of danger.

When she was contented with her examination, a small smile of satisfaction crept across her beautiful features. She bowed her head appreciatively, almost as if she were paying her respects to the wild, and relaxed again instantly. Then, without any provocation, she took off once more.

Her feet pounded on the dense earth melodiously, as if she hammered on a drum; causing her to feel such elation, she could fly. She lifted her arms in a vain attempt to lift off from the ground.

“SMASH!” Something in the background shattered and Kalika was ripped back into reality, opening her eyes, unable to comprehend her surroundings. Then she remembered. And so it was; her nightmare continued.

She sat up from the dusty, lumpy mattress holding her throbbing head. She rubbed her tired eyes before she surveyed her surroundings. The stone walls and floor were dank, musty and dirty. There was a rusty steel basin bolted to one wall with a toilet next to it. The only light source was the light that emanated from the hallway outside the bars. Cobwebs decorated the ceiling and cockroaches danced across the floor. This was her cage.

Kalika stood, and walked over to the steel bars that imprisoned her in this hellhole. She tried to identify the noise, which she discovered was the guard, who had dropped his mug. He was now bent over picking up the mess and shoving a donut into his mouth simultaneously. Kalika cringed at the sight of the massive ‘coin slot’ that appeared above the guard’s waist band.

Her heart sank through the pit of her stomach as she dropped her gaze from the man.

‘It was all a dream,’ Kalika thought dismally, so convinced of it because the dream had been so vivid.

She slowly turned and sat in the centre of her cell, on the cold, stone floor, and crossed her legs, trying to attempt a meditative state. However, even as she tried to calm her mind of all thoughts, images of her capture kept flooding her mind.

The warehouse had been surrounded by vehicles; her team had disappeared without giving any word. The Russian soldiers had burst in from the snowy night. Oh, how they tortured her for her secrets. She had vowed she would kill them all.

Kalika’s thoughts were disturbed by a drop of water from a crack in the ceiling. It landed on her thin, grey track pants. She shivered from the unexpected coldness of it and opened her eyes regretfully. She looked at her bare feet, covered with dirt and blood, and then lifted her hands to her face and peered at them in the near-darkness. As she looked at her once beautifully manicured hands, she shivered again.

Steam issued from her mouth as she released a small groan of tiredness; she had not slept properly in weeks. Slowly, she got to her feet and paced the edge of her cell restlessly, like a wild lion in a zoo. She cracked her knuckles mindlessly trying hard not to think about the outside world and all the people she had left behind.

She often wondered selfishly why they had not come to rescue her, before cursing herself angrily. She had to keep reminding herself that she was, after all, an undercover agent and that she had no hope of her government coming to save her. There was no way they would ever accept claim or responsibility for her as they could not risk repercussions.

After a while, when the pacing no longer helped, Kalika resigned herself to another night in this life. She sighed deeply; feeling frustrated by her predicament and turned to her bed. She slumped down on it feeling exhausted, until finally she lay back onto the lumpy mattress and closed her dry eyes. It wasn’t long before she fell into another restless sleep.

She dreamt this time that she was a lion on show at a circus, forced to perform demeaning tricks for a crowd of Russian Government Officials who threw rotten food at her and swore threateningly when she looked up at their shadowed faces.

The ring master cracked his whip, hitting her in the neck; and in doing so, pulled her eyes away from the crowd and forced her onto a thin beam over a fire pit. But her paws were too big for the beam. She clawed at the metal surface for some grip but her paws slipped and she fell. She grabbed onto it desperately, swinging dangerously above the fire. The heat singed her fur. At this the crowd jeered and began to chant for her to fall.

The ring master stepped onto the beam and stood at her paws staring down his nose at her maliciously. He looked up into the crowd and raised his arms for effect, at which they cheered with approval. The ring master raised his whip and cracked across her paws, making her fall.

Kalika landed on the hard stone floor with a cry of pain, and received a shriek of laughter for her trouble. She looked around and saw the guard standing there watching her with a sneer on his face.

“Y’know,” he began with a snigger. “I’ve heard that if you have a dream where you’re falling, if you see yourself land you actually die from the shock.”

Kalika scowled at him and got to her feet rubbing her sore spots.

“Too bad,” he continued. “I could have used the help.”

He laughed uproariously as he sauntered away, running his baton along the bars and causing a crescendo of echoing noises as he went along.

Kalika rolled her eyes and turned away, deciding to begin her daily exercise of push-ups and cardio. She was about half-way through her routine when she was disturbed by the sound of a metal bowl clattering to the floor and the slurp and splatter of her meal hitting the bowl.

Kalika didn’t look around until the person was well gone, and then her gaze fell to the familiar grey slop that greeted her every day. She cringed at the sight of it but resigned herself to the fact that it was this or starve, which she knew full well because she had tried to protest before. After all, she needed her strength to beat the shit out of them.

She finished the gruel with some effort, because the stuff tasted like gravel, and sat on the floor feeling her stomach gurgle awkwardly. Kalika frowned in discomfort, and placed a hand on her stomach. She got to her feet stiffly and went to the basin, turned the tap on and drank deeply, trying to get rid of the disgusting taste in her mouth. She turned the tap off, not relieved from the taste and sat back down on the floor leaning against the back wall.

She stared mindlessly into the empty cell opposite her own. It seemed to her like hours when in fact little time had passed at all before she heard the footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway outside her cell. Kalika woke from her daze and closed her eyes, listening intently as the stranger approached. Closer. Closer. Then…

“Ahem. Mademoiselle Kalika Campion Baudelaire, the beautiful French maiden. How wonderful it is to see you, my dear.”

The rich voice reverberated through Kalika’s body, making her sick, and she suppressed a shudder.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and raised her gaze towards the figure who cast a long shadow over her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness over his face. She looked him up and down, observing every little detail.

The individual was in his mid fifties, balding and fat; his cold, grey eyes glinted in the darkness. His sleazy smile revealed his yellowing teeth, and Kalika could just see him salivating at the very sight of her. It was then Kalika noticed his suit. He was one of ‘them’. And yet his face sparked something in her memory.

He spoke again, this time a little more sarcastically than before. “What? After only a month, have you forgotten me already?”

Kalika glared at him and recalled her sentencing, when ‘those’ people had sentenced her to life in prison. She had been convicted of terrorism and espionage. She was innocent of terrorism and she was not a spy. But this man had been present at her sentencing and at her first session of torture. She knew that’s where she knew him from; but who was he?

“What did they call him again?” Kalika searched her memory. 

“What do you want?” Kalika muttered annoyed, still racking her brain.

“Tut, tut. No manners for such a pretty girl.”

Kalika thought back to the court room. His suit. They called him…

‘That’s right,’ she thought. ‘Kazakov. General Gregorio Kazakov.’

“Where the hell am I?!” Kalika demanded, not expecting an answer.

Kazakov hesitated, his smug expression now one of discomfort. “Just outside of Vladivostok, on the East coast of Russia.”

Kalika was taken aback, but recovered quickly, hiding her surprise. She’d not been expecting an answer. But she then became suspicious and paused, wondering what he wanted from her. She had come to learn that they never gave anything without wanting something in return.

Obviously her expression appeared calculating because he dropped all pretences, for which Kalika was grateful.

“Ok,” Kazakov continued, now serious. “No more games. The Naval Defence Board has decided we want your help. There’s a gang of Russian Terrorists, called the Era, I’m sure you’ve heard of them. Well, they’re causing quite a stir for our establishment, and we want you to bring them down by any means necessary.”

Kalika was suddenly struck by the irony of the situation. She laughed at him incredulously.

“Go to hell! I would rather rot in this cell than help you,” she said viciously, and a little triumphantly.

“I’m not finished!” he growled. “In return, we’ll drop all charges against you. You’ll be free to go.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t you hear me the first time? I said go-to-hell!”

Kazakov sighed dramatically. “I was hoping it wasn’t going to come to this.”

Kalika growled at the false look of dismay on Kazakov’s face.

“I’m afraid,” Kazakov began sarcastically, “we’ve located your beloved little sister, Sakura. Yes,” he grinned maliciously at the look of horror on Kalika’s face, “we have plans to, shall I say, eliminate her.” Kazakov turned and glided off down the hallway, chortling to himself.

Kalika sat there, frozen. ‘Oh no!’ she thought. ‘What am I going to do?!’

Now she was panicking. She knew full well that he was not bluffing because he had proven himself many times before. There was only one thing she could do; she had to think of a way to save her little sister from the punishment Kalika deserved.

It was this that suddenly reminded her of the time she was on stake-out for a ‘job’ in Washington DC. She was with Yuri.

‘Yuri,’ Kalika thought, mixed emotions rushing through her body. ‘Yuri Derevko, one of the best undercover agents in the world. Well, you sure fooled me.’

Yuri had been Kalika’s unofficial boyfriend. Their relationship had commenced that night while on stake-out. It had been a cold, rainy night. They sat in that car for hours, so intimate. That night had been the start of something big, what exactly Kalika had no idea, but something nonetheless.

Thoughts of him sparked a rage Kalika never knew she was capable of.

‘That jerk!’ Kalika thought, bitterly. ‘How could he do this to me?! How could he sell me out to the Russians like this?! This is all his fault! I’ll kill him, along with all the others! They’ll all pay!’

Kalika stood and stormed to her bed, her rage now thundering. She threw herself down on the bed and rolled over onto her back, putting her arms behind her head; her mind racing. As she lay there, staring at the cracked and decaying ceiling, she tried desperately to calm down, determined not to let them get the better of her. She mustered all her strength in an effort to get a hold of herself, which wasn’t easy in her situation.

Kalika closed her eyes in a vain attempt to ease the flow of bitter resentments that streamed through her mind. But it was no use. Instead of fighting it she decided to think of all the things she’d like to do to them. She lost herself in the pleasant daydream and lay there with a contented smile on her face. It was then, during a particularly violent musing that she realised the answer she’d been looking for. Her eyes flew open.

Kalika cursed herself, “You stupid fool! It was staring you in the face the whole time!”

She leapt out of bed with such enthusiasm she nearly tripped over. She ran to the bars hopping on one foot from the pain in her toe and called out to the guard. He looked up disinterestedly and silently remained in his seat. When Kalika refused to quiet down, he stormed off angrily with more vigour than Kalika had ever seen in him. In what seemed like a lifetime later, and Kalika still yelling at him, he reappeared and sauntered down the hallway with a look of disdain on his face. Although his unshaven face still had a dim-witted expression that, to Kalika, seemed to suit him.

“Bring the General to me at once!” Kalika demanded.

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