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June 6th, 1960, Rhodesian Embassy, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia 
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"Well shit." Sergeant Patrick Mulligan muttered the words as he stared down at the two bodies on the floor. Ambassador Heaps was crumpled against his desk, his bathrobe lying open to expose most of his body which was now soaked in blood. Beatrice lay directly in front of the door and Mulligan was glad he had not gone further into the room as some of her blood dripped off the ceiling, narrowly missing the brim of his pith helmet to splatter on the toe of his boot.

"That sums it up well." Replied a second security officer as he crowded into the doorway next him. "Murder suicide?" 

"Sure looks that way." Mulligan stepped back, bumping into the second man as they both cleared the door way. He glanced around the room again, spotting the weapon under a nearby chair. It was a common enough pistol used locally by any number of Police, armoured car drivers, etc. The scene certainly looked like a murder suicide but nothing he had seen suggested that the Heaps were having domestic issues. They were lifelong perverts, wife swappers, sex party goers, and so forth. Unlikely one of the suddenly became insanely jealous. He knew that Heaps had royally fucked up the Rhodesian application to the African Union but he doubted something like that would cause his wife to shoot him. 

"The household is showing up." The second officer commented quietly and a brief glance over the shoulder revealed curious house staff starting to crowd the nearby doorways, kept at bay by more security. 

"Anyone called the locals yet?" Mulligan asked as he bought himself more time to think. The Rhodesian Government had a contingency plan for this sort of situation, top secret orders that had come down from somewhere on high in the event an Heaps was ever killed. It was almost to perfect... He didn't wait for a reply as a plan crystallized in his mind. "Find Abay. He's our killer. Make sure he fights to the death."

The second officer didn't argue, only nodded and turned away. Abay was a local Ethiopian they had hired six months ago. The man had Communist leanings but that had been the point in hiring him apparently. No one had explained to Mulligan why at the time, he had fought the idea, but now it was making sense in his head. Abay was a sacrificial pawn. He looked up and caught sight of Sara Reicker on the upstairs landing. The rest of the staff looked scared or worried and she was making a good act of each as well but her gaze was steady, her feet shoulder width apart, head held high. No ordinary secretary that lady.  

The second security officer had vanished into the household and toward the servants quarters. Ten seconds passed before a shout rang out, a gunshot, and then the sound of breaking glass. The security officer burst into the hallway again, pistol drawn, helmet gone. 

"He bolted out the window!" He shouted, waving his weapon toward the side of the house before running for the door. House staffers scattered in front of him like leaves before the wind. He reached the door and wrenched it open just as the sounds of a man yelling suddenly broke the night air, more gunshots rang out, and the roar of Ridgebacks brought shrieks from the staff inside the house. But not from Sara. Mulligan was still watching her and saw her glance outside and then turn away as if it was nothing. She was cold. And very dangerous. 

The shooting died away and the sound of Ridgebacks turned from excited barks to the rumble of dogs who had found their prey. A horrible scream came from the brush, rising and falling in an awful cadence, almost over ridden by the victorious calls of the dogs. Mulligan waved one of the other security staff over, told him to ensure no one entered the room, and then headed for the door.

Outside the main yard was a blaze of light. Security Officers in their white uniforms manned positions as they were trained to do while men in green fatigues, the Immediate Action Rapid Deployment Team or IARD, hurried into the bush after the dogs. The screams died away to nothing and two men came from the brush dragging a pair of big Ridgebacks and a German Shepard whose chests were covered in blood. Another two men came a minute later, dragging a body by its arms and dumping it onto the gravel drive. 

Mulligan walked over, his mind still sorting through scenarios as he went. The face of Abay stared up him, the black skin around his throat and lower jaw had been turned into shredded meat by the dogs. One leg was badly torn as well. That would have been the Shepard, they were trained to bite and hold, the Ridgebacks to kill. The man was certainly dead. 

One of the IARD Men spat on the body and then stalked off, the big Shepard trotting along happily at his side. Sirens could be heard now. Gunshots were not so common in this part of Ethiopia that they would be considered part of the night noise. The local Police would have to be kept at bay but it would be impossible to simply prevent the Ethiopians from being part of the investigation, one of their citizens was dead now after all. Mulligan turned and began to rap out commands, he had much to do and little time to do it. 

[center]***Three Hours later***[/center]

Three Shotel Agents stood in front of Sergeant Mulligan, three black men staring down one white man, as the world watched from beyond the cordon of local Police. More Police stood around the yard, mostly giving the security dogs and their handlers a wide berth. Here and there a Policeman talked with a Rhodesian Security Officer. The Police spent enough time in the area to be on friendly terms with the Security detail and made for a bit of a bizarre scene. 

Even the Shotel men, Agent Mehret, had ties to the embassy staff. He and Sergeant Mulligan played gold together once a week at a local country club. The two men looked like interracial twins to some extent, both tall, broad shouldered, short cropped hair, and with a ramrod straightness that hinted at previous military experience. 

"Communists?" Mehret said with a slight eye roll. "Come on Pat, don't fuck with me. What's going on here?"

Mulligan smiled thinly at the short form of his name. Mehret only used it when they were golfing, and then only after a few beers. He was trying to play on the relationship the two men had. Mulligan couldn't blame him, he would have done the same.

"I told you Mehret, bloody man attacked by Security Officer and bailed out the window. We know he had Communist leanings, found some literature in his room, and Rhodesia isn't exactly popular with the commies these days."

Mehret leaned in and winked so that only Mulligan could see it. "You sure it wasn't a lovers tiff? Your Heaps aren't exactly what you would call subtle in the amount of black cock she liked to suck." 

Mulligan had to concede that Mehret had a point. Beatrice had climbed onto about every black mans pole she could and rode them to hell and back. In fact, it wasn't ultimately a bad story and he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it. Mehret mistook the surpassed fury for shame at failing to cover up the real reason.

"Don't worry Patrick. It won't hurt Heaps reputation at all. Nobody liked the son of a bitch anyway." Mehret kept his own face straight but glee danced in his eyes. That Heaps had been killed by a jealous lover of his wife would delight the local gossips and keep the papers busy for a week or two. He had no doubt that Rhodesia could weather the storm.

The two men stopped their conversation as black van rolled through the crowd. The Coroner. It would take all three bodies to the local morgue where the Shotel Agents and a Rhodesian Security man would remain with them until the Heaps could be transported home. There would be a state funeral with all the bells and whistles. If there was one thing Mulligan and Mehret could agree on, Heaps hardly deserved in.