Making a Killing

[Ron Caliburn]

As directed, I arrived at Pyopas’ office today. She only had Tomato Face there with her; the other two were obviously off running errand. She was probably counting on us being in the middle of a building staffed by over a thousand cops to keep me from coming across the desk at her.

She was right, and that definitely didn’t make that dark feeling at the pit of my stomach go away.

Back when I thought she was just a corrupt government employee I felt okay in dealing with her until she slipped up and let me bring her down. Now that I knew what she was . . . or rather wasn’t, I wished I’d brought along a vest packed with TNT.

But there would be time for those sorts of things later. For now, I had to deal with the situation in font of me.

“Have a seat Mr. Grant.” We’d played that game before and both made our points. I slowly put myself in the chair, obviously unhappy about the situation, but not fighting. I can’t say that I’m all that good of an actor, but fortunately, I didn’t have very far to get into character.

She smiled at me as warmly as a shark smiles at a thrashing tuna. “Excellent, I wasn’t entirely certain you’d turn up. I was afraid we were going to need to look to other means of securing your co-operation.” Just enough hint of an underlying threat in that statement to make sure I knew that she’d send her goons back after me and those I cared about again if she had to.

“Well, about that. I think we need to adjust our working agreement.”

She feigned surprise. “Oh, and how would you suggest we revise it?”

I reached into my coat pocket and Tomato Face shifted uncomfortably for a moment – he was nervous.

Good.

I pulled out the flash drive and tossed it to Pyopas. “My conditions are on there.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she reached down and plugged it into the front of her computer. “What’s the file name?”

“It will open itself, just click yes when prompted.” I watched her scowl and waited for her to click. “The way I see it, if I pull off what you’re proposing, I’m going to have every law enforcement agency in the country breathing down my neck. So I need some assurances that you’ll help me get away,”

“And how do you propose I do that?” She continued to read.

“Well it’s in there, but I figure a deputy director in the Department Of Homeland Security like yourself should be able to pull some strings and get me and my family placed in the witness protection program. Does that sound feasible Ms Pyopas?”

“We’ve already made arrangements such that if you escape the event may be pinned on a number of undesirable individuals already on our terror watch lists.” She folded her hands. “A new identity for you would not be necessary.”

“So when I kill this guy for you, you’re going to make it look like a terrorist attack?” I chuckled. “Well that helps a lot, what happens if I do get caught?”

“You shouldn’t. DHS is running security for the event here in DC later this week. My associates will arrange a window for you to get close to the target and leave it open long enough afterwards for you to escape unmolested.” She opened a drawer in her desk and fished out an envelope. “This has all the details of where and when.” She tossed it to me. “You’ll also find the weapon inside.”

“Okay then, so how about some financial recompense for me and my family then? In order to blackmail me for this you’ve had me falsely arrested, my home and business raided. A large number of my personal possessions damaged or destroyed. I’ve been unable to work for weeks and my reputation of course will never be the same.” I paused for a moment. “I think I deserve some kind of reward for putting up with all that at the very least, let alone taking this guy out for you.”

She chuckled. “You are not as idealistic as I thought. I approve. It still gets you nothing. You must understand Mr. Grant this is not a negotiation. You will kill the target, you will hide our involvement or you, and your family will pay the price. I will personally make sure your daughter is in a place where soft, tender white girls fetch top dollar. I will make sure that blind girl never leaves her hospital bed except to go to the morgue. I will make sure to rip your heart from your chest myself and EAT IT BEFORE YOUR EYES WHILE YOU STILL LIVE!!!!” Her voice rose to a crescendo and her fist slammed so hard on her desk the old oak cracked.

She took a moment and composed herself. “Have I made myself clear?” she asked in her pleasant little voice.

“Yes.” I sagged, defeated.

“Good.” She pulled the flash drive from her computer and tossed it to me. “Now take your stupid list of demands and the instructions and get out of here.”

I left, trying not to smile.

[Willie Long]

So she fell for it? Awesome.

[Shadowstalker]

Got to love it when the Bad Guys get foolish.

[GhostSpider]

I could never have swallowed my pride like that. Would've pinned that bitches heart to her spinal cord with five feet of rune covered steel.

[Ron Caliburn]

Well if I thought I could have done it and gotten away with it, I would have gone across that desk at her and put two into Tomato Face before he got off the couch.

[Ron Caliburn]

I found my way through the gap in the security perimeter easily enough. Pyopas’ hatchet man had made sure I had a schedule of when each alley and side street would go unobserved. I just walked down them casually, stepping along just outside of the arcs of the security cameras. I’d also been informed that the camera in the actual target area would be mysteriously disabled at the right time.

I’d recognized the photos of the mark almost immediately. You can’t live in this town very long before getting to know all the power brokers by sight.

Some considered him a failed politician, most thought he was one of the most successful lobbyists in the country. He was a key part of the team trying to put their man in the White House. The sort who would have unfettered access once the change over happened in January.

In other words, the perfect man to be the power behind the throne.

Of course, if Pyopas’ instructions were to be believed, he wasn’t a man at all. Included in the envelope was a stiletto that had been coated with what was apparently a unique blending of plant oils designed to neutralize the regenerative capabilities of the creature I was to kill.

Of course, using a knife also guaranteed I’d have to get really close and increased the odds of evidence transfer from me to the target and vice versa.

But then again, I was already expecting a set up, so no surprise there.

It was about an hour before the target was to arrive that service door to the convention centre creaked open and a figure stepped out, bundled against the chill October breeze.

I pushed myself back against the corner I had been hiding in. Getting spotted now wouldn’t do me much good

The figure fished inside his coat pocket for something and pulled free a pack of cigarettes. As he did, his pocket dumped itself onto the ground. Keys, change, wallet . . . all came out.

He cursed in frustration then groaned against stiff muscles as he crouched down to pick up the debris. When he reached for the wallet, a gust of wind flipped it open, a picture sailed from it and drifted on the wind to land over by my feet.

Mr. Fluffers meowed and sniffed at the photo, giving away my position. You can never trust a cat.

I bent down and picked up the keepsake as the man worked his way over to me. Mr. Fluffers met him half way and nuzzled his leg.

He stopped for a moment, with another groan and scratched Mr. Fluffers between the ears. “You’re a friendly little fellow.” He slowly straightened himself, looked at the photo in my hand, and said, “I think that’s mine.”

I looked at the picture for a moment. It showed a young woman, probably early 20’s. She was wearing graduation robes.

“Your daughter?” I handed him the photo.

“No.” His eyes twinkled a little bit. “She’s my granddaughter. She graduated from Yale this past spring.”

I nodded. “Smart girl then.”

He sighed a bit, then slid the photo back into his wallet. “Reminds me of my wife when she was that age, rest her soul.” He lit his cigarette, the flickering flame showing me the face of my mark. “Do you have any children?”

“A daughter.”

He smiled. “Wonderful, isn’t she. They all are. Daughters and granddaughters are God’s way of telling us that with all the ugly things men do, we can still create something beautiful.” He took another puff and started a coughing spasm.

I decided I wasn’t going to get a better moment than this to strike.

[Ron Caliburn]

“So just how paranoid are you?” I asked Ted when I met with him last weekend.

“Not as much as that fellow with the rifle in Montana.” Ted was flipping burgers on the grill, one of the last times he could before the change in weather would force him to put it away. “Why do you ask?”

I watched Hannah and Kelly giggling together over by Ted’s gardens. They must have been talking about boys. “Well, are you paranoid enough to have bugged your own office?”

Ted got where I was going immediately. You don’t get to his level in his profession by being slow off the draw. “You mean do I have a recording device that Pyopas might incriminate herself on?” He shook his head. “Not really.”

I arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘really’?”

“Well, I’d set up a program on my computer that allowed me to record anything going on in my office via the usual conferencing microphone. It encrypted it and sent it out to an off-site computer for me.”

I grinned. “That sounds perfect.”

“Yes, it was pretty good. However, it also stopped working right after I was forced out. I’m guessing Pyopas is using a different computer.” He took a pull from his beer. “Wearing a wire is out?”

I nodded. “Yeah, tried it last time, for some weird reason, it, my cell phone and my watch all stopped working while I was in the office. I know her computer was on, so maybe if I had that program of yours and could get it onto her machine, we could get a recording of our next meeting.”

He thought for a moment. “You’d need to physically access the computer to install the program. You’d also need her security passwords so as to turn the computer on and have the firewall allow the program to run.” He started piling the now cooked patties on the serving tray.

“Any ideas on how to do that?” I added one on top of my burger and made sure to break off a piece for Mr. Fluffers to eat. Damned cat always begging for scraps.

“I think I have one.”

“Good.” I bit into the burger, imagining it was Pyopas.

[Lord Shakar]

Interesting.

[Ron Caliburn]

I made my move and thrust an envelope at the target. “You have enemies and they decided to set you up tonight.”

He took the envelope. “What’s in here?”

“Its evidence; voice recordings, photographs and documents.” I produced the knife. “I was supposed to bury this in your heart.” I handed it to him.

He looked like I’d dropped a piano on him. “What? Why are you doing this?”

“Because they decided to set me up too.”

I slipped back into the alley and slowly made my way out to the street. There was going to be Hell to pay and I had to be ready.

My mark was human, that was obvious. He smoked; he had stiff joints, was proud of his granddaughter and mourned his dead wife. It would have been a very thorough monster to take on all those airs. Most importantly, Mr. Fluffers liked him, and that was good enough for me.

You can always trust a cat.

[Grace]

First of all Mr. Caliburn, I would like to say that your (mis)adventures remind me of the pulp detective stories my Da always favored. Never liked them much as a kid but now that Da's gone... well suffice it to say I think he'd be a fan of yours.

So maybe I'm feeling sentimental but here's my spin on this-for free even. A human mark is ridiculously easy to take out in most cases. And for the amount of resources spent so far to coerce you into doing it, they could have hired a team of my colleagues to do it (or me not so very long ago).

So this ain't just business. It's personal and it's as much about you as it is about the mark. Maybe even more about you. If it was the family doing this, I'd say that you'd pissed off a boss and now are being made a fool before being made a patsy.

What your lady friend's motives might be are a bit beyond my expertise however.

Good luck.

[Ron Caliburn]

I was suspicious of her from the start - that's why I wanted to bug her.

Best of all, Ted's bug kept working after I left, I got some other stuff.

Looks like not doing what she wanted upset the apple cart a fair bit - the mark's got contacts of his own and they are working their way through the system after Pyopas - but she's on to it too. I need to move fast if I'm going to make sure she doesn't get away.

Like tonight fast.

[Grace]

Well, good luck Mr. Caliburn.

I'd offer to help, but even if you were willing to pay my price, I don't think I could get to your area tonight.

So once again, good luck.