Chance Assassin: A Story of Love, Luck, and Murder (32 page)

The moment when the life left their eyes gave me goose bumps every time, but I didn’t have an ideal job yet.  They were still too new, each one an unforgettable experience.  Although unlike Frank, I did enjoy the sniper shots.  I liked how fast they were.  It felt like I was racing the mark, and I had to make sure they never got to the finish line so I could come in first.

I’d had more practice with the rifle than my own gun, since we’d been using it for the majority of our hits. 
And
since he’d planned to pawn all his sniper jobs off on me from the very beginning.  Not to mention that it put me in a great position to be mounted.

“You have everything?” he asked.  Frank would be coming to the bar later, taking a taxi part of the way and walking the rest.  I had to go there first to make sure everything looked fine, then I’d wait for him to show up and follow him in.

“What if they don’t fall for my ID?” I asked.  I looked nowhere near eighteen, much less twenty-one, but the fake driver’s license Frank got me was a work of art, and so far no one had doubted it.  They didn’t even pause at the name Oliver Gray, Frank’s little jibe at my vanity and dead parents.

All his ID’s said Frank Smith.  He had one for each of the fifty states, with license plates to match.  Even his passports, all seven of them, said Smith.

“They fell for it before,” he said, and then he squeezed my shoulders and let me go.  “You’ll do fine, angel.”

“Okay,” I said, “one hour?”

“I’ll be there.”

“You sure you don’t want to eat anything?”

“Less to choke on,” he joked.

“Not funny,” I said.  I’d gladly give him mouth to mouth, but if something happened to him on my watch, I’d never forgive myself.  And I could only kill the bitch who drugged him once.

“I’m going to get dressed.  Don’t forget your wig.”

I rolled my eyes.  The wig wasn’t nearly as necessary as he’d made it out to be.  Once she was dead and Frank was awake, we would put the woman’s body in the trunk of her car and I’d drive it to our planned burial site.  I’d wear her coat, and the wig, and hopefully look enough like the owner of the vehicle to avoid suspicion in the unlikely event that someone saw us.  I knew that he was only making me wear the wig because I’d smacked his ass in front of the shop girl, so I put up as much fuss as possible.

“Don’t forget to take off your ring,” I said, and left the hotel.  As part of his costume, I’d been making him wear his wedding ring whenever we went out, so he’d get a mild tan line.  I’d seen the way our mark chose hers, and looking like they’d have reason
not
to report the robbery was a definite qualification.  Men who couldn’t be honest about where they were wouldn’t run to the cops over a loss of cash.  They’d silently go back to their wives with their tails between their legs, and maybe learn a lesson and keep it in their pants.

Our victim was already inside when I got there.  I drove around the block a few times until a spot opened up on the street that gave me a good view of her car.  Then I sat tight until Frank showed up.

I watched him walk inside.  Frank looked like a man who could handle himself, but when he wasn’t feeling guarded, and he wasn’t working, he had this innocence about him.  If you knew him well enough you could see it.  He was truly uncomfortable around people, years of inexperience with normal social situations giving him the air of a child at his mother’s dinner party, hiding in her skirt from the drunken adults.  But tonight he looked every bit the part of a successful businessman.  Even his gait had changed; his usual self-conscious step was replaced by a perfect blend of wealth and arrogance.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I followed him in.  Our girl was at one of the back tables, watching the door for her perfect target to show up.  Her eyes started to glow when Frank sat down at the end of the bar closest to the entrance.

I looked around, pretending to be disappointed that my friends had flaked on me yet again.  Then I sidled up to the bar a few stools down from my man and the hot blonde who intended to rob him.

“Come here often?” she asked seductively.  I’d never been one to support violence against women, but I wanted to punch her in her pretty face for using such a cheap line on someone wearing an Armani suit.

I had spent a bit of time coaching him on how to play a married man about to cheat on his wife.  It was fun to point out mannerisms of the unfaithful, and he even drew upon his Catholic guilt to help him get into character.

Frank smiled, a beautiful mix of uncertainty and cockiness, and shook his head.  “You?”

“First time,” she said.  Liar.  She was practically a regular of every high-class bar in town, and she’d been in this particular one a couple days ago.  She hadn’t so much as looked at me, but then, I wasn’t wearing the clothing equivalent of a fat wallet.  “I’m Jennifer.”

She was Kelly the last time.  Her unwitting victim had received an emergency phone call before he could drink his Rohypnol and Coke, and he’d gone home to his wife like a good boy.  Luckily for him there was a phone behind the bar, and he’d felt guilty enough talking to another woman that he didn’t question who the caller was.

“Jack,” Frank said, and in the moment that he gently shook her hand, she slipped the drug in his drink.  He knew it of course.  As did I.  But Frank would be safe from harm.  I’d protect him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, making sure she noticed his wad of cash as he pulled out a twenty dollar bill for the bartender.

She ordered something frilly with an umbrella, likely the very drink I would have ordered had I not been trying to look inconspicuous.  Frank let the guy keep the change.  What did he care?  He was loaded.  In more ways than one.

It didn’t take very long for him to start slurring his words, which was only more apparent because he was lapsing into his English accent.  Poor baby.  He sure was committed to his career.  “Can I tell you something?” he asked with a smile plastered across his face.  “I like blondes!”

She laughed.  I nearly did too, but I was starting to get concerned.  Even when Frank was drunk he still had a semblance of control.  Now he was nearly falling off his stool.  “Do you live around here, Jack?”

“Hotel.  I’m visiting.”

“Perfect,” she purred, her eyes turning to dollar signs.

I put some cash on the bar for the already over-tipped bartender, and made my way outside.  They’d be leaving any moment now, and I had to be ready to follow.

Shortly after I made my departure, the blonde helped Frank stumble drunkenly to her silver convertible, and into the passenger seat where many men had been before him.

I sat in Frank’s BMW, waiting patiently for her to pull out.  He was doing a fairly good job of keeping his head up while looking like he’d had ten drinks instead of just the one.

She put her car in gear and I turned on a bit of chase music.  Frank would have objected under normal circumstances, but right now he would probably agree to just about anything.

“All right, bitch,” I said, following only long enough to make sure she was heading back to our hotel, then veering off and taking a shortcut.  These were Frank’s instructions, to remove any doubt in her mind that this wasn’t a normal robbery.  I didn’t like the idea of being unable to ram the back of her convertible if she even
thought
about groping him, but he insisted.  He’d be in more danger if she thought she was being followed.

The hotel was decent, better than the one we were actually staying in but not nice enough to have cameras in the hallways.  Our girl Jennifer seemed a bit discouraged by the quality, but she helped Frank to the room nonetheless.

I waited until they’d entered before driving around the hotel and re-parking my car beside hers.  Then I followed them in.  She’d probably be emptying his pockets by now.  I’d say that if she touched his cock I’d kill her, but then, I’d kill her anyway.

I reached the door, number twenty-eight, and pulled the gun out of my coat.  For once, we’d gotten two keys.  I opened the door and pointed it at the startled face looking up at me from the bed.  Frank looked just about as out of commission as a person could be, lying flat on his back with his tie slightly loosened.  Jennifer was on top of him with one hand in his pocket.

“He’s mine, sweetheart.”

She raised her eyebrows, an unconcerned grin coming to her face.  “I understand,” she said, as if she’d accidentally stepped on my hunting ground.  When I was on jobs, the victim would look at me like I was there by mistake.  No one ever thought I was part of the plot to have them killed.  I was just an innocent bystander.  But Jennifer thought I was like her, and she acted very courteously.  “You saw him first.  My mistake.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” I said.  “You okay, honey?”

He sat up and attempted to straighten his tie, then smiled, said he was fine, and tipped sideways off the bed.  I held my gun higher.  Jennifer may not have been a gun expert, but now that she’d realized there was a silencer attached she started to get concerned.

People generally have only one of two reactions when they’re faced with immediate death; they beg and cry, or they try to make a deal.  Jennifer fell into the first category.  Tears glistened in her eyes, matching the diamond earrings dangling amidst her blonde hair.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said.  “I’ll leave.  No harm done.”

“How many did you give him?” I asked.  Frank was now out cold on the floor, getting his suit all wrinkled.  Even if I hadn’t been paid to kill her, I wouldn’t have spared her now.  Not after that.  Only
I
was allowed to wrinkle his clothes.

“Two,” she said with her voice quivering.  “He’ll be fine in a few hours.”

I lowered the gun.  That was something Frank had taught me to do when it came to female marks.  Let them think they were getting away with it.  It may not be enough to get you into heaven, but you’ll sleep better.

“Thank you,” Jennifer said sincerely.  I nodded, then stepped aside.  She looked better in the dim light of the bar than she did now; her face made up to disguise how plain she was, her hair unnaturally blonde but professionally dyed.  I almost felt sorry for her as I pulled a plastic bag over her head, yanking it tight around her throat and bringing her down to the floor.  She fought to the bitter end, kicking her legs so hard that she broke the heel off one of her stilettos.

But it wasn’t enough.  It never is.  I held the bag for another ten minutes just to be sure, even though I could feel that her neck was broken.  Then I carefully peeled it off her head and proceeded to remove her coat and her jewelry.

Jennifer’s red wool coat fit me well, if a little tight around the shoulders.  It didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have to wear it long.  “Sorry, Jen,” I said, taking her shoes and carrying her to the bathroom, where the smells of death wouldn’t penetrate the room while I waited for Frank to wake up.

She wasn’t very heavy, which for a moment made me feel sad.  I’d been like her once.  But while she got greedy, I got lucky.  I got Frank.  And now it was too late for her to ever be rescued by a knight in shining Armani.

I picked him up next, pulling his arm around my shoulders and hauling him off the floor to the bed.  Frank wasn’t very heavy either, but he was all limbs and it was incredibly awkward.

“Wake up, baby,” I said, lightly slapping his face.  No luck.  I loosened his tie some more and rolled him onto his side just in case.  Then I started digging through Jennifer’s purse, looking for something to munch on while I waited.  Lipstick, compact, baggie of date rape drugs.  Nothing to eat except for sugar free gum.  Damn.  Killing her had left me with quite the appetite.

I wiped down the room and turned on the TV.  This could take awhile.

His eyelids started to flutter right on schedule, interrupting a pivotal scene of the low-budget movie of the week.  It was starring a young Robert Marshall of all people. He didn’t look any different.

“Frank?”

He groaned, moving his head groggily away from the lamplight.  “V?”

“Hey,” I said, lovingly fixing his disheveled hair.

Frank rolled onto his back, rubbing his face until he figured out how to open his eyes the rest of the way.  Then he squinted around the room, finally looking at me like he could hardly see straight.  “How’d it go?”

“Fine,” I said.

He blinked a few more times.  “She’s dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, standing stiffly and rolling his shoulders.  I didn’t want to tell him that I’d let him fall off the bed.  “I feel awful.  How many did she give me?”

“Two,” I said, standing as well in case he tipped over again.  “You gonna throw up?”

“No, just a headache.  Will you make me some coffee?”

“I’d love to.”

“I don’t remember anything,” he said.  “It’s weird.”

“Don’t worry.  She didn’t take advantage of you.  And neither did I.”

“But you thought about it.”

“I’m still thinking about it,” I said with a grin, and went to make him his coffee.  “Why don’t we stay in places like this more often, Frank?  They supply the caffeine.”

He smiled instead of responding, leaning against the bathroom door and watching less than patiently as it brewed.  Jennifer could’ve been the bathmat for all the notice he gave her.   “She got lipstick all over my collar.  This shirt is ruined.  Did you wipe down the room?”

“Except for the bathroom,” I told him.  I knew he’d take a shower when he woke up.  It was just something Frank did.

“God, I feel so used,” he laughed.  “How long was I out?”

“A little while.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower.”

I nodded.  I didn’t want to tell him how long he was really out.  It’d be better to give him shit about spending so much time in the shower and hope he believed it.

He finally glanced down at the body and rubbed his face again.  “You broke her neck?”

I shrugged.  Technically, Jennifer broke her own neck.  If she hadn’t struggled so much, she would’ve died peacefully.

Frank looked a little better after he got cleaned up, though he still had that freshly drugged glow.  I handed him a Styrofoam cup of coffee and got to work on the body.