Read The Hitman's Last Job Online
Authors: Max Freedom
The Hitman's Last Job (21 page)
“
Hey buddy,” Jerry sounded pleased to hear from him.
“
I got news! Your Mr. Reiner just turned up. Call just came in
from an anonymous young woman who reported him for murdering her
father, Thomas Martin,”
“
Holy shit!”
“
Yuh… but you better book the next flight south. He’s hiding in
Corpus Christi,”
“
Sometimes you’re alright, Callahan. Regards to your wife,” and
Jerry hung up.
shimmied back to his desk feeling like a disgraceful human
being.
~
Jorge was
still lying on the bed as the sunlight spilled onto his lithe body
through the blinds. He blew smoke up into the air and watched it
dance on the ceiling. He was listening in on Jerry’s phone call and
it sounded like good news.
Jerry hung up
the phone and grinned. “Get your shit. We’re goin’ to Texas,”
“
Ah fuck,” Jorge couldn’t be bothered getting up from his bed
let alone fly to the other end of the country. “Do I have to? I
already put in overtime with old man Reiner,”
“
Stop being a jerk Jorge and move,”
“
Urgh…” and he stood up like a petulant teenager and pulled on
his boots.
Anna was still
in tears as the bus approached the Mexican border. Gripping hold of
her fake passport she mentally pleaded that no one be suspicious of
it. She wasn’t an expert on these things but as she looked at it
she was certain it looked real. Plus she had her looks on her side
and knew that counted for something.
She couldn’t
take her mind off Carl though. What was he doing? She’d replayed
the moment a thousand times in her head. He was definitely kissing
someone she was sure of it. But who was she and how did he know
her? Was it just someone who looked just like him? Or was he
falling prey to a moment of weakness? She cast her mind back to
seeing his tall stature with the blonde buzz cut. And the way he
stood with confidence. She even remembered seeing the way he
slanted his posture to one side because of his back injury. It was
him alright. The jerk.
As she handed
her passport over to the border guard she held her breath for what
seemed like an eternity. But he seemed barely interested in it
compared to looking at her body. He smiled adoringly at her as he
handed it back.
“
Have a lovely day Miss Martin,” and he winked
back falsely and hoped her tears hadn’t puffed up her face too
much. Then she watched as the bus pulled away as they crossed the
border. Her stomach lurched as they entered Mexico and she felt a
peculiar anxiety within her that signalled both excitement and
fear.
Where she was
going she didn’t know. All she knew was that the idyllic sun
streaming through the window warmed and comforted her. Still
clutching the briefcase she opened it while making sure none of the
passengers could see inside. There was still thousands in there and
she figured it would carry her a long way in Mexico. As long as no
one robbed it from her...
Then it hit
her. She was a single teenager with a case full of cash in a
foreign country. She didn’t speak any Spanish and she’d never left
her home town until this week let alone know how to move
abroad.
“
Fuck,” she cursed herself.
thing she was going to figure out when the bus stopped was how to
protect herself. She’d buy a handgun or some pepper spray. It was
gonna be a steep learning curve.
CHAPTER 25
It was dark
when the plane arrived in Corpus Christi and Jerry had a stiff neck
as it landed. He hated travelling at the best of times. Meanwhile
Jorge was fast asleep and snoring loudly beside him. Jerry nudged
him.
“
Hey pal, we’re here,”
Puerto Rican woke up looking dazed. “Urgh…..”
“
I hear ya,” Jerry sympathized with his discomfort. “Hey I’ll
rock paper scissors you for the price of the rental
car?”
“
Sure,”
began to stand up and grab their suitcases all around them, the two
men shook their fists. Jorge showed Jerry scissors and he
simultaneously threw rock.
“
Ah fuck. Fair enough,” Jerry chuckled. “You can buy me
breakfast,”
“
It’s always with the food with you,” Jorge yawned as they
stepped down onto the tarmac.
travelling through the airport they hired themselves a bland, dark
green sedan. Jorge slid into the passenger seat and lamented the
aesthetics.
“
What is this? A car or a God damn electric shaver? No shape,
no soul. I miss my Buick,” and he thought back to where he left
it.
in the Chicago Airport he dreamed of kissing its hood as he arrived
home. Meanwhile Jerry started the engine and headed in the
direction of The Bison Bar.
“
It’s not far from here,” he spoke to himself as he tapped the
details into the sat nav.
in silence through the dark streets until they reached the
dilapidated neighborhood.
“
This better not be a joke,” Jorge seemed suddenly angry. “I
don’t wanna come all the way down here and not find
him,”
“
Callahan wouldn’t lie to us. Believe me he knows
better,”
nowhere the neon sign for The Bison came into view. A rag tag bunch
of heavy drinkers and bikers hung out the front smoking and
jostling at each other.
“
Lovely,” Jerry’s face drooped at the sight. “I hate dive
bars,” and he parked a few yards away to keep his
distance.
building they found it to be packed tight with a colourful array of
degenerates. The two Mafia henchmen stood out as they entered in
their suits. Everyone turned to regard them with hostility as they
approached the bar.
“
Save your bad manners. We don’t want a drink,” Jerry declared
and slapped his hands on the bar which he immediately discovered
was sticky.
barman looked relieved and picked up a towel to begin drying a
glass.
“
Well what can I help you with?”
“
We’re looking for a guy. Tall, ex-Navy, cocky as
hell,”
“
Oh, I know exactly where that douche is. Had a domestic with
his girlfriend and I sent him over across the street to a motel. He
was driving me crazy,”
Jorge looked to each other amused. Jorge’s eyes were sparkling as
he imagined what he’d do to him. His fingers began to twitch with
the excitement of anticipating a kill.
“
And where would this motel be?” Jerry leaned
forward.
“
Fifty yards that way,” the barman pointed. “And take a right
up the alley. You can’t miss it,”
“
You’re a good man,” and Jerry pulled out a fifty dollar bill
and placed it in the barman’s top pocket.
Carl was lying
face down in a stupor. Feeling both enraged and terrified for
Anna’s safety, he couldn’t even imagine where she’d gone. And she’d
taken everything he owned. He had that backpack through his entire
tour of Afghanistan. It had survived a bomb blast but now sat on
the back of a runaway teen who misinterpreted a situation and
didn’t think to confront him.
He was fuming
mad when he checked into the motel, and almost penniless. Deciding
he’d worry about the money in the morning he just wanted to drink
himself into a coma as he pined after Anna. How could she leave
him? He’d only known her less than a week but he felt as if he’d
fall apart if he never saw her again. Despite her running off he’d
take her back in a split second just to see her smile in his arms
again.
Swallowing
three Vicodin and half a bottle of bourbon he fell asleep on the
grubby bed. Luckily his senses were so intoxicated that he couldn’t
smell the previous guest’s scent on the bedsheets. He drifted into
slumber dreaming of holding Anna.
When he woke,
it was because he thought he heard the door rattling. But the noise
stopped as quickly as it started and he drifted off again. When he
woke again it was because it sounded like a lightning strike went
off in his room. He smelled the gunpowder that rose from the small
hole next to his face and he rolled over in time to see Jorge
fixing the gun directly between his eyes.
Moving quickly
Carl threw the sheets up towards Jorge and rolled to the edge of
the bed, and as his reflexes kicked in, he kicked Jorge in the
chest as a shot rang out. Jorge stumbled back whilst raising the
gun, and with the reaction time only a Navy Seal is capable of he
lurched forward and grabbed Jorge’s arm, taking advantage of the
brief moment of opportunity. Running forward with one hand on
Jorge’s arm and the other on his chest, he pushed him up against
the wall before throwing repeated right hooks Eventually Jorge’s
expression dropped, his jaw slacked and his grip was soft enough
for Carl to grab the gun.
Firing three
rounds into his chest, the little assassin fell to the ground and
bled out. Carl watched as he took his last breath. Then with one
last bodily spasm, he was gone.
Jerry
meanwhile was standing at the back of the room, and as Carl
approached he started to plead for his life.
“
Hey! I was trying to talk him outta killing you,” he lied.
“We’re old pals you and me. We go back a long way,”
“
How could you Jerry? I thought we were friends,”
“
We are! We are it’s just….”
“
Just what?” Carl asked although he knew what the answer would
be.
“
It’s just what Don Angelo orders…. Right?”
backwards into the wall as a bullet hit him straight in the center
of his forehead, tearing off a chunk of his head. It bled down his
face and covered his shirt as he slumped to the ground. Carl looked
to him with disgust. He knew there would be Mob revenge. He knew
people would be sent to kill him, but he was disappointed it had to
be Jerry.
He rifled
through the dead men’s pockets and took what little cash they had,
and the car keys in Jerry’s pocket. Then something else fell out,
his dog tags. He picked them up, feeling a moment of serendipity.
As he ran out into the parking lot he pressed the button on the key
fob and saw the flashing of headlights on a green sedan. Climbing
in, he could still smell Jorge’s cigarettes and overpowering
cologne.
He looked to
the clock. It was five in the morning. Checking his own pockets he
felt his passport.
“
Thank fuck,” he whispered in the dark.
long until the cops were here. There was no way no one heard the
gunshots. More than ever he needed to escape over the border.
Luckily the roads were practically empty at this time, and if he
drove steadily and quickly he’d be in Mexico in two hours.
~
Anna had
arrived in Monterrey hours ago and had no idea what she was doing.
Walking the streets for hour after hour, she tried to dodge the
admiring looks of strangers and look as inconspicuous as possible.
But it was difficult with her flaming, red hair and ethereal
complexion. She stood out more than anyone.
Whiling away
most of the evening she sat in a coffee shop and perused the local
papers. She understood nothing but loved the look and feel of
another culture. Then she saw an advert in one of the pages for a
local art history museum. She ripped out the segment carefully and
placed it in her back pocket.
Now she was
still walking the streets and absorbing the feel of the place. She
knew she’d have to find a place to stay soon but right now she was
exhilarated with the feeling of being somewhere fresh. She had
money and her youth, what more could she ever desire to start a new
life? But she knew she desired someone to share her new life with
and the tears sprung to her eyes again.
Walking passed
a busy nightclub a middle aged gentleman in a beige suit caught
sight of her. Chasing her down the street he tapped her on the
shoulder. She spun round terrified and clutched at the briefcase
tight. She knew there would a come a time when she’d need to stick
up for herself.
“
Are you lost?” the man seemed genuinely concerned. “Are you
alone?” he asked in perfect English.
“
I’m just on my way to meet someone,” she lied
unconvincingly.
“
I don’t think I believe you,” he looked deep into her eyes as
though he were trying to read her mind. “What are you really doing
here? American girls don’t come here alone. This isn’t your average
spring break destination,” he smirked.
figure out if he had ulterior intentions or not. But exhausted,
lost and deflated she relented. “I ran away,”
“
Oh?”
“
And I just arrived here,”
“
And you have nowhere to stay?”
“
No. But I can afford to rent a place,” she instantly regretted
admitting she had money. He was going to rob her for
sure.
“
So why Monterrey? Why not one of the usual hotspots for
runaways? Maybe Tijuana? Cancun?” he was mocking her and she didn’t
like it.
“
I just had an affinity for this place I guess. Thought maybe
I’d bump into someone,” she slumped her shoulders and sighed as she
wished she’d never left Carl.
probably made a mistake in seeing him with someone else, she
surmised that stress can cause an anxious person to see just about
anything.
