Blackest Gold

Blackest Gold

Heraldo did not feel the sniper’s crosshairs on his head - he did not really feel the bullet as it smashed through the top of his spine and into his brain either. Heraldo was dead, in the physical sense, before he hit the ground. Across the street at the top of a flat roofed building the mercenary ducked down and begun packing her L96 sniper rifle into a ski bag, it had been an easy kill – one of her easiest in fact. Maybe she should take a few more jobs like this one. Then again with a job this easy it was actually harder to maintain concentration and therefore easier to get caught.

The wind gusted between the buildings depositing dust from the Sahara as well as from closer locals. Some of the dust settled on Heraldo’s grey staring eyes. A crowd had formed around where he had fallen, wanting to see but not get too close. The people had slowly emerged from hiding once they had ascertained there would be no more shots.

The hired gun walked through the crowds almost unnoticed, no one seemed to register her accompanying ski bag despite being in an area where mountains could not even be seen, let alone reached.

A murmur went up from the crowd spreading to the newspapers, to the radio and television. At first it was the randomness of the killing that sparked the interest, then it was Heraldo’s mild fame as a published author, finally curiosity peaked with the mention of a finished but as yet unpublished work. It was as if people thought the man’s final opus would hold the key to the very mystery of his death.

In the weeks that followed the killing his widow - Maria - appeared on daytime, primetime and late night talk shows. There was a great dignity in her quiet grief as she talked about her late husband’s unfinished dream to have what he viewed as his great masterpiece published and recognised throughout the world. She talked of her patience during his long nights at the keyboard while she lay awake in their bed, she spoke of the relief – the celebration - when the book was finished, and she spoke of the last time she had seen Heraldo as he had left for a walk on that fateful day. No one seemed to have the heart to mention that his last novel had sunk almost without trace. Following much praise from critics the book had simply failed to sell, as is so often the case.

Heraldo’s book Blackest Gold was released on the 29th of March, rarely had a book launch received so much mainstream press coverage. People were still hungry for the key to the mystery of Heraldo’s death which still seemed no closer to being solved than it had been at the time. The publisher had taken the unprecedented action of not issuing any advance copies of the book for critics or for anyone else – they wanted to maintain the air of suspense.

Heraldo’s book started to sell. Book stores had to make repeat orders. People were reading Blackest Gold on trains, on buses and on park benches. The belated reviews were also filled with praise for the work.

The first murmur of dissent was an anonymous call made to a radio phone in discussing the phenomenal success of the book. The nameless caller suggested that perhaps Maria had arranged the hit on Heraldo in order to gain publicity for his book and reap the financial rewards. The call was very brief but was followed by a flurry of new calls both supporting and rejecting this theory.

The following day the newspapers had picked up the accusations, reporting them with all the balance of a drunken hippopotamus in high heels. Stories with phrases like ‘…millionaire widow of assassinated author…’ and ‘…benefactor of her husband's death…’ appeared with a suddenness that suggested the knife sharpening had been done well in advance.

During this time sales of Blackest Gold did not slow but there was a noticeable drop in the number of people reading the book in public. Maria had maintained total silence since the storm hit.

On the fifth day, as the storm was beginning to show signs of dying out – or more likely preparing itself for another display of its awesome power - Maria appeared. She had called a press conference. She stood, alone and defiant, facing the dark sea of the assembled press. Flash bulbs provided lightning flashes and boom mikes loomed like the masts of half sunken ships. Her gaze was steel as she surveyed the mass of questioners and accusers.

“I had hoped it would not come to this.” She began, each word carefully measured.

“I stand here, a grieving widow, to face your slanderous accusations. It saddens me deeply that you would set out to attack both my husband’s legacy and my public image.”

“I have here verified proof that I did not have my husband killed. Let it be noted that I did not wish to tarnish his memory and it is with great reluctance that I share this with you.”

She reached into the folds of her black dress and removed a single piece of paper, crumpled as if it had been held to her chest each night since her husband’s death.

Maria gave a single glance into the eyes of the scores of cameras assembled before her and began to read.

“My dearest Maria, I cannot go on this way. I pour all of myself into my work for it to go unnoticed. The piece I have just completed is my greatest work, I shall never surpass it. I need now to do my work justice by making sure it reaches the biggest audience it possibly can. To this end I have hired a woman to kill me. I hope in this way to generate enormous media attention for my latest work and gain the audience it deserves.”

She paused, looking up once more.

Maria then continued, “There is more of the letter, but it is private, between me and my dearest Heraldo. You shall hear no word of it. I will share only his last written line with you now.”

There was no sound from the assembled media. They strained, like sprinters in their blocks under starters orders.

“Maria, death can be The Blackest Gold.”

Epilogue

In light of the latest revelation sales of the book soared to new heights. Here was a man who would die for his art. Everybody had to read this book that was worth dying for. Few were disappointed.

It was revealed later by an undercover reporter that Maria had established a charity with almost the entire proceeds from sales of the book - she had not wanted to announce this herself.