An Assassin’s Holiday (2 page)

Once I’m comfortable and have taken care of the tools of my trade, as well as my coat, I open a bottle of wine and sit on the sofa, pulling off my shoes and wiggling my toes. I think about turning on the television, but I decide the quiet is nicer. It gives me a chance to think, and as soon as the image of a pair of stunning blue eyes flashes in my head, I put down my glass, walk over to my safe, open it, and then pull out the folder inside.

Robin Marvington
, it says on the first sheet. Not that I don’t know the file well, but I’m getting the feeling there’s something I missed. Normally the people I get contracted to remove are people I wouldn’t care about, ones the world is better off without. This guy doesn’t seem like that at all. I know he’s an accountant, and I figure whoever took out the contract—and they paid a lot for it—simply wanted him gone because he stole something or saw something he shouldn’t have. Maybe he’s standing in the way of someone important. Those are the usual motives, anyhow. Robin seems different.

The feeling was niggling at the back of my mind like a bug you can barely feel but you know is there, so it drives you crazy until you know it’s gone. I’ve been experiencing this shit all week, and that has to be why I’m still following the guy rather than just taking him out, completing the assignment, and moving on.

Moving back toward the couch, I open the folder. Yes, he’s an accountant, specializing in taxes. He has no wife or children, just one sister in Massapequa, who has a daughter, Robin’s niece. I know why that information is in the folder, but I refuse to involve the relatives of my targets in my jobs. I know—an assassin with a conscience. But I feel it’s not right; it’s a shortcut only taken by nonprofessionals who are sloppy and can’t cut it otherwise.

I continue reading what I already know, hoping for some clue as to what this guy has done in order to deserve my attention.

The thing is, I never ask why. I didn’t the entire time I was in the Army, and certainly not after I got out and found there was no place for me anywhere else. I was trained to kill, nearly bred for it. Killing was my one skill, the only thing I ever found that I excelled at. And because of politics, once I got out, I found I didn’t exist. No one would talk about my training—it was classified because it wasn’t supposed to have happened, so I wasn’t supposed to have been trained and created. So rather than be accountable, they turned me and those like me loose on the world. It didn’t take long for me to find work—good-paying work. Or maybe the work found me. I never questioned it, not once….

Until now, when I’m faced with killing the Santa Claus to a group of children who were once me.

Setting the file aside because it told me nothing whatsoever about anything, I pick up my glass once more, trying to decide what I’m going to do. I need more information…. No, I realize with a touch of shock, I
want
it. This isn’t some mystery I need to solve as part of a contract. This is for me, because I need to know what the hell is going on with this target—and what has suddenly changed inside me.

I pick up my phone, holding it, trying to think of anyone I might call for answers. But I’m the quintessential lone wolf, and I’ve always liked it that way… until this very moment when I wish I had someone who could help me with the answers. Instead, I put the phone down on the spotless glass-and-brass coffee table because there is truly no one I could call. I never realized how far outside the boundaries of society I was until this very moment. I’m alone and will always be alone.

I end up settling back on my sofa, watching some television show about earthquakes. It seems appropriate at that moment, since it feels like I’ve just experienced an emotional one of sorts, and like the people in the program who managed to escape and tell their story, I feel like I might somehow be a survivor of this one… if I’m lucky.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
day I’m waiting outside Robin Marvington’s office, dressed completely differently. I know my quarry won’t recognize me or think about me for a second if he sees me. This time I’m ready for whichever direction he turns, and I follow him when he appears to be going home. I join the flow of people as they head off, bundled up against the cold, to wherever they’re going. I know I could have simply waited for Robin to go home, but I need to know what it is about him that, now that I’ve let him inside, is making me more and more curious.

He walks a few blocks, carrying a box this time, one I’ve never seen before, and he doesn’t go home. Instead, he turns off his route, down a side street, and waits at a bus stop. I approach but stand back, then get on the same bus he does and sit at the opposite end, watching, my gaze about ready to bore a hole in the back of his black-haired head.

When he gets off, the neighborhood has changed dramatically from the professional area where we got on. It’s quieter, where people live their lives—well, normal people, not ones like me. I follow Robin into a homeless shelter and stand just inside as he is greeted with a huge smile by a radiant woman, who then leads him toward the back.

“Are you here for the party?” a woman asks from behind the desk next to me. “It’s open to everyone, but….” I know she’s taking in my thick coat and dark boots. “It’s our annual children’s Christmas party. We celebrate all the holidays this year.”

“The man who just came in….”

“Robin… yes. He plays Santa Claus for us. He’s done it for the past few years.” She leans across the desk as though watching him leave the room. “I think he’s a dreamboat and one of the nicest guys. Of course, the only ones who seem to like me are losers. Robin’s gay, so I know he’ll never notice me.” She puts a hand over her mouth and titters. “Sorry, I need to keep my big mouth shut.”

“No, young lady, I’m not here for the party, but I want you to do me a favor.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a couple hundred dollars in cash. “Give this to the person in charge of the party tonight and tell them to make it extra special.”

Her eyes widen as she takes the large bills.

“Just forget you saw me. When they ask, just say it was a man who left it. Nothing more, not even what I’m wearing. Understand?”

She nods. “Whatever you want. These kids have so little. Mine is….” Her eyes start to water, and I have to get the hell out of there. “I’m sorry. My little boy is one of the ones you’re helping, so thank you. I’ll do exactly as you wish.” She smiles, and I turn and leave the shelter.

I spend the next few hours wandering the city, looking for answers. I was fucking stupid enough to think I had my shit together and that I understood how the world worked. I was so wrong, and now that my views have been shattered, I’m not sure how to put the pieces back together again. My life has been my own; I’ve understood it and always thought that what I was doing was adding to the world. The people I eliminate for the most part deserve it. With each passing second, my gut keeps telling me this contract on Robin is either a mistake or something else altogether. What surprises me even more is that I can’t bring myself to kill Santa Claus.

After hours of thinking, I end up back at a place I’ve been to many times in the last week. There’s a light on in Robin’s apartment, and I walk up to the front door of the building. I don’t need to ring the bell. I simply let myself in because… well… it’s also one of my skills. I climb the single flight of stairs in the simple but meticulously clean building. It wouldn’t surprise me if Robin is the one who makes sure it stays this way. At least it tickles me to think so for some odd reason. I knock on his door and wait.

“Yes, I just got home,” I hear from the other side of the door just before it opens. “Oh.” He stops and stares at me, a cell phone still in his hand. He peers around and then looks up at me. “I guess you aren’t the pizza guy.” Robin seems confused. “I’ll call you back.” He hangs up the phone. “Can I help you?”

I step inside without being asked. This will be a conversation that doesn’t need to be overheard. Robin stares at me, and I look around the room at the small lit Christmas tree, the string hanging from picture to picture filled with bright colored cards, most likely from dozens of friends. “I think you should close the door.” I don’t raise my voice, and he stands still, then eventually swallows hard and does what I ask.

“If you’re going to hurt me….” He’s shaking like a leaf.

“Believe me, if I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it by now. Many times over.” I step closer. “I’m the guy who’s been hired to kill you.” I know I’m being blunt, but that’s my style, and I’m hoping to shock him into listening to me.

Robin laughs. “Okay. You can tell Petey that this is crazy even for him.” Robin opens the door. “You delivered your message, now tell Petey I’m not buying it and that I’ll get even when I see him on Thursday.”

I close the door. “This isn’t a joke, and while I do know who Petey is because I’ve been following you and I know most of the people you have seen in the last week, I can assure you that I’m the man who has been hired to kill you.”

“Me?” he squeaks. “Someone hired you to kill me?” It looks like his legs are going to give out, but he makes it to the sofa and manages to sit. “I’m…. I just work at an accounting firm.”

I sigh. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to tell me why. There has to be a reason for someone to pay me six figures to kill you. So I think you need to be straight with me and tell me what you’ve done to piss someone off.”

“How would I know? I work in an office and shuffle papers all day. I haven’t pissed anyone off that I know of, and I certainly know I’m not worth spending that kind of money to….” Robin’s eyes widen. He isn’t able to say the words. He stands and starts pacing the floor, then pulls the curtains closed and wraps his arms around himself.

“There has to be a reason,” I say, giving him a chance to think.

“I don’t know why someone would want to kill me, or for that matter, why you’re here telling me this. If all this is true, then why didn’t you just do it and….” He shivers again and begins perspiring.

“Don’t worry. For now you’re safe, because I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why?” Robin asked. “I mean, I’m not an expert on these kinds of things, but I figure the people who paid you are going to get pretty pissed off if you don’t do what they want.”

“I’ve got some time.” I have no intention of answering Robin’s question because I’m beginning to figure this shit out for myself. I’ve never backed away from a contract before, and here the fuck I am, spilling my guts to my target. Granted, he’s a really cute, extremely nervous target. I can smell the fear and confusion washing off him. “But I saw you last night….”

“You were the guy outside?” He’s shaking as he looks up at me. “I couldn’t see you very well, but I knew you saw me. I could feel you looking.”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“I walked home after I was done. You could have… you know… done it then. Why didn’t you?”

“Let’s just say that I saw you with those kids, and I wondered why someone who plays Santa for a group of orphans would be on a hit list. So I tried looking further and followed you tonight. I saw you at the mission.” I sat on the sofa, making myself comfortable.

“I suppose you’ve seen me in lots of places.” Robin narrows his gaze. “Were you the guy who gave Nicole all that money? She thinks you’re some sort of secret angel.”

“Believe me, I’ve never been described that way. If anything, I’m an angel of death. I’ve certainly never been anyone’s hero.”

“Well, she thinks you hung the moon right now, and a lot of kids are going to get presents this year because of it.”

“If you want to know why I did what I did, think about what you just said. The guy who was hired to kill you is sitting in your living room, and you’re more concerned about whether children you don’t know will have a merry Christmas than you are about figuring out why I was hired to end your life.” Damn, I think I have been looking for someone like Robin all my life. Greggy was like that when we were together in the home. He watched out for everyone, even at his own expense.

I push those memories out of my mind. I haven’t thought about them in years, but they keep coming back because of Robin. Those memories aren’t going to get me anywhere.

“But I don’t have any answers for you,” Robin said. “I don’t have clients who do anything other than have me do their books and help them pay their taxes.”

“What about your boss?” I ask. “Does he have high-profile clients? Maybe some who aren’t as upstanding as everyone would like to think they are?” I see Robin swallow hard, and then he meets my gaze with a touch of frost.

“I take it you know quite a bit about me?” he asks, and I nod. “But I don’t know anything about you.” He crosses his arms over his chest. Robin isn’t a huge guy by any means, but the fire in his eyes is damned attractive. “At least tell me your name.”

“It’s Brick.”

“Really?” he asks and then starts to laugh. “Someone hired an assassin named Brick to kill me. How do you do it? Throw yourself through windows and hit us in the head?”

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” I say, offended and wondering how in the hell a guy I only met an hour earlier could get under my skin. Maybe I should have killed him. “Someone is indeed out to have you killed, and I can’t tell you how lucky you are that I seem to have developed some sort of conscience.” It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. “Believe me, that’s very out of character, so don’t make me rethink my position too hard.”

“Okay… sorry…. This is my first time on someone’s hit list, and I don’t know the etiquette.”

“Don’t piss off the guy who’s supposed to do the killing.” I glare at him, and it takes two seconds before he begins to laugh. “Why in the hell aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Because, like you said, you could have killed me already and you’re actually trying to help me. I think I have to accept that you have your own reasons, and no matter how many times I ask, the real reason is going to remain locked up inside you.”

“Good. Now that we have that covered, tell me about your boss and the other people at your firm.” I know in my heart that the source of all this is most likely there. Accountants deal with other people’s money, and they have the power to hide it or move it around. They can take dirty money and make it clean. I’ve seen it more than once.