A few minutes later Chaos called us into the kitchen. Supper, as I suspected, consisted of a few different types of sushi, rice balls, chicken fried rice, and for dessert little round rice cake type desserts, mochi. There were three small plates in the middle of the circle of larger, food covered plates. One contained a pool of soy sauce, another had a dollop of wasabi and the last had a small pile of pickled ginger.
The ginger, she explained, was for cleansing your pallet after eating sushi and the like. I found out later, the hard way, that there was a reason it did that when, after finishing my meal, I took a piece of ginger I thought would be decent enough.
“That may be too big a piece.” She warned as I inserted the piece in question into my mouth.
As I began chewing I understood why: It was very bitter. I could see everyone chuckle as my face contorted from the taste.
“That,” I was interrupted by the need to clear my throat, “was interesting. I can see why you would say it’s for cleansing the pallet; I may not have a pallet left.” I chuckled at my own joke and everyone followed suit.
“See, it’s the things like what you just did that make me call you a dumb ass all the time.” Link said, speaking for the first time since dinner started.
One cut in, “Oh yeah, says the guy who would probably eat his silverware if he weren’t focusing.” Everyone laughed, and then he added, “Seriously man, I promise you it isn’t a competition.”
“He thinks that if he eats any slower he’ll gain weight.” Sayn’t defended.
I laughed. Link may eat fast but he’s also eccentric. Sometimes to the point of being bat-shit insane, but he was still our friend and, in a world where friends are far and few between.
We went on like this for another twenty minutes before we’d finally finished the meal.
I sighed contentedly as I laid my chopsticks down. “That was great Chaos. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay on.” I gave her what I’d hoped was a warm smile and she smiled back.
Everyone agreed, even Bob and Hill, who’d apparently enjoyed the meal as much as everyone else had.
“Well, who’s up for TV?” Sayn’t asked as we began standing from the table. Everyone agreed that they were OK with TV aside from Bob and Hill, who would probably learn whatever they needed to from the internet or hacking.
“I’ll be in after I’m done cleaning.” Chaos said, obviously still trying to do her job well.
“Alright, if you’re sure, it’s not that important.” Sayn’t apparently didn’t care if as much now.
Chaos gave him a slight glare. “And that’s exactly the thinking that led you to need a maid in the first place. No, I’m sure, I’ll be in soon.”
Sayn’t looked taken aback, if only just a little. I chuckled quietly. She was serious about making a good impression.
After Sayn’t had left I walked over to Chaos, “Hey, if you want to change out of that outfit you should check up on your bed. You may like what you find.” She looked at my questioningly but I was already turning to walk away.
I walked into the living room to find that, instead of the news, everyone had opted to watch Comedy Central. Today was truly a day to relax. It wasn’t long before Chaos came in and, after tapping on my shoulder gently, sat down with a sly smile on her face. She was wearing the gown I’d bought for her. It was more intended for winter use as a nightgown so it had substance to it while the inside was lined with silk for comfort. She looked absolutely wonderful in the snow white outfit. The others took notice as well, though more noticeably so was One.
I guess I’m not alone in my attraction to her, and of course it would be him.
I let it slide though. It’s nothing to worry about yet, I hoped.
We sat and continued watching a comedy special for its hour long run, laughing more at a few of the more un-politically correct jokes. But, who can say they don’t do that really? That’s something you find out being so in touch with the times. People, behind the glitter and sugar of the media and political correctness, tend to be vile, easily influenced creatures. I guess that’s part of why there’s a need for people like us.
While some would say that mercenaries or hit men are the most evil of beings, killing people simply for money, they rarely take into account the evils they let go unnoticed day by day. I’m not trying to say that I’m without fault, nor are any of my friends. We’re just a different kind of evil, in my opinion, a necessary evil. Because, in a world where the general public regularly supports corrupt government officials who make some dictators look tame in comparison someone needs to take a stand, and although we don’t do anything without a client’s paying us, that someone is most always people like us.
Because, where there is a person in power, there is another person, weak and unable to do anything, that wants that person gone. So they come to us. Not to say all of our jobs are so justifiable, but if we don’t work we can’t afford to stay in business let alone eat.
Another special was about to come on when Bob came down the stairs.
“How do you guys feel about India?” We had a new job.
“How’s the weather this time of year Bob?” Sayn’t, asking what kind of job.
“Hot.” And he walked away. He didn’t need to say anything else. This was a political assassination.
“So,” Chaos started, pausing, as though she was nervous about what she wanted to say, “Who all is going?”
“All of us, including you.” A reply from Sayn’t that he quickly followed up with, “I mean foreign food is fine, but you really are a great cook.” He flashed a smile.
It was standard procedure that, if we needed to go out of the country for a job, everyone went in case something came up that they were needed and we couldn’t just leave her here.
“Oh, well that sounds good, when should I start packing?”
“Tonight actually, Bob’s probably already booked a flight for tomorrow.” With that he stood up.
I took an opportunity to add, “Pack some warm clothes too. If we’re going to the Middle East we have to stop and see someone in Russia as well.”
She tilted her head slightly to one side, “Russia and India? Well, I’m glad I decided to stay with you guys.” She smiled brightly. Apparently the thought of travel appealed to her.
With that we all went upstairs to begin our preparations. I was in the process of packing my “Russia bag” when a knock came at the door.
“We need to leave at eight in the morning to get to the airport on time.” Sayn’t was making rounds, after a talk with Bob in the computer room, telling everyone when to be up and ready to go.
“Alright, are we traveling light?” Even though we were in the privacy of our own house we preferred to use code for a lot of things, and this was a quick way to ask if we were taking our weapons with us or if we’d be supplied on arrival. Sayn’t’s reply in the affirmative told me that we’d be supplied on location.
After I’d finished packing I decided to go check on Chaos and ask her how she liked her gift, as well as to know what alias she’d been set up with for public conversations. I can’t say I was happy that as I approached the door to her room, One stepped out of it. I passed him with out acknowledging him and knocked on her door.
She opened it with a, “Well, aren’t I just popular these days?” She smiled and invited me in.
“Thank you for the gown by the way, it’s absolutely amazing.” She said, motioning with a flourish down her sides, showing that she was still wearing it because of that fact.
“I was actually going to ask what you thought of it,” I laughed, “I’m glad you like it, it’s not too often you get to buy something like that in our profession.”
She looked confused.
I sighed, it was understandable though, “Well, it’s not like I get too much time to meet women.”
She laughed quietly and smirked, looking down slightly. “Oh, is that it?”
I scratched my neck, “Well, you’re not without your merits, cat burglar.” I dangled my silver pocket watch in the air in front of me, “I’m sure you’d like this as a matter of fact, better than that gown.”
She was already in her own world watching the pocket watch sway gently on its chain. She nodded rapidly and jumped at the watch, grasping outward but I pulled the watch back and put the other hand on her forehead, stopping her. It was something that didn’t take too long to figure out: She was absolutely infatuated with getting her hands on things that shined.
She began begging, “Please, please can I have it?” She even went as far as looking up with a puppy-dog pout.
I couldn’t help but sigh and laugh a little, “Well, you can’t have this one, but once you’re done packing come to my room. I have quite a few that I’ve collected and you can have one of them.”
She smiled but still wasn’t happy with that, “But why not that one?” She kept her pleading eyes focused on me.
“This one’s,” I paused unsure how I should word it, “special. I’m sure you understand.”
She tilted her head to the side, as she often does when she is confused by something, which is something I find very attractive about her.
“I suppose so,” She put her hand over a necklace she was wearing; “Everyone has something like that, don’t they?”
I laughed, turning to go to the door, “Yeah, I suppose so.” I stopped with my hand on the knob. “Oh yeah, what am I supposed to call you in public?”
I heard a giggle from behind me, “Men,” She obviously realized that it’d completely slipped my mind to ask her, “They actually let me pick, so Rosa Lynn.” She sounded happy with the choice. “It’s a name I’ve always wanted. What should I call you then?” I replied with, “For now let’s use Stephen Michael.” I’m sure she was smiling as I left the room with a, “See you later, Rosa”, I was smiling too.
I nearly laughed out loud at myself on my way back to my room. I was clearly out of practice with women. I couldn’t even remember why I’d gone to her room because I got so wrapped up in the conversation, even though it was a short one. Though, it would be nice to get to talk to her again when she came to my room.
And sure enough twenty minutes later she knocked at my door and, without waiting for me to answer, bounded in.
“Someone’s excited.” I joked.
Her expression became a sarcastic imitation of innocence and confusion, “Why, whatever could you mean, kind sir, or is it Stephen?”
I laughed, standing up from my bed, and walked over to the box I kept my pocket watches in. It stood upright with twin doors that opened outwards. It, like the other wooden furniture in my room, had been colored with a cherry stain. I opened it and turned it so she could see inside, turning around I found her slack jawed, staring at the collection.
I had about ten in all, mostly souvenirs I’d collected while on jobs. A few were simple in design, merely a gold or silver pocket watch with no other outside decoration. I opened these one for her, and she only grew happier as she saw that, though the outsides were simple, the insides were elegant with intricate designs and, in some, jewels at the twelve, three, six, and nine.
I stepped aside, motioning toward them with my arm, “Go ahead and pick one.” I emphasized the word “one” another time. She didn’t try to defend herself as she looked at me guiltily.
“But, they’re all so pretty,” She paused for a while, admiring the collection, “I want them all.”
After I reaffirmed the “only one” sentiment she settled for a plain gold one with the diamond studded clock face. She seemed absolutely enthralled with her choice as she visibly held back the urge to attack me with gratitude. It was a shame really.
“So then, you’re not going to pawn that off are you?” Her look of shock told me that the very thought was blasphemy, “Never mind.” I raised my hands up in defeat.
When she’d gone I began worrying if I was just trying to buy her affection with gifts and decided that, on the trip, I’d refrain from buying her much of anything and simply get to know her better. The fact that One obviously shared my interest in her troubled me. The thought that it was quite typical that he’d be the one to give me competition flashed through my mind again. I shook the thought as, in this business; if the team didn’t work together everything could go to shit in no time at all.
I began reading; laying back in my bed, and it wasn’t long before I had to turn my bedside lamp on to continue. A half hour later I finished the book, happy that I could start the book I’d bought earlier today. Though, I didn’t start it, figuring I’d save it for the trip. Instead I got up and went downstairs figuring to get a glass of orange juice before I went to bed. Hill, who was our group’s hacker as well as the mechanic, was in the kitchen talking with Sayn’t.
“Hey, guys,” I greeted to let them know I was there, though they continued talking, “Is there any orange juice left?”
They laughed at my disregard of their conversation and stopped, “Yeah, it’s on the door.” Sayn’t informed me, still laughing.
I smirked, “Thanks, could you grab me a glass man?” He did.
After I had poured my glass of juice I asked them what they’d been talking about.
“Cars of course, what else do we talk about at eleven-thirty at night?” I laughed at Hill’s answer.
“Well, you guys already know where I stand on cars.”
They both nodded in agreement. It was true; I made no effort at all to hide the fact that if given the choice of car I’d be torn between one of the old 1990’s Jaguars and the ’08 model of the Porsche 911 gt2. We talked about the pros and cons of certain models as well as about whose car would win a race for another half hour. At this time two things happened, I drank the last of my orange juice, and we all noticed the time. After a few quick goodnights we all headed to our rooms. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep, which was unusual, but I chalked it up to being happy for once.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Chapter Two (use the links on the side to navigate to a different chapter)
The next morning we checked for any job offers as usual. Upon finding none, we decided we should go shopping.
By rule we never spent extravagantly in any single trip. Drawing undo attention to our income may raise some flags. This however was the first time, aside from getting her new clothes, in which Chaos had gone shopping with us. We made sure she knew the rules but we knew that even if she did go a little overboard it wouldn’t really matter. Granted we’d tell her to be careful to not do it again.
When we were in the heart of town we parked, locked the SUV and went our separate ways. We all had our favorite stores and items we wanted. We’d get what we wanted, do some browsing and then, at the designated time, meet back at the car.
Once away from the rest of the group I headed for the tailor. My old suit had met an unfortunate end and I needed to order another. Other than that there were a few new book releases I wanted to check out as well as a few movies and games. I also wanted to get something special for Chaos. It’d been a while since a girl had caught my eye the way she has. Maybe that’s because it’s been a while since I’ve taken this much time to get to know a girl like this. But I felt like I may be able to forge something with her if I got her a gift to break the ice.
After I ordered my new suit, which took little time as the tailor still had my specific measurements and specifications, I went to the bookstore. I grabbed a cup of coffee in the in-store Starbucks then continued to browse through the shelves. I found a few firearms magazines that I frequently read to keep up on advances in the technology, as well as a few horror novels. It’d been a while since Id read any and I could use a break from the spy novels.
Before I returned to the SUV, a few minutes early, Id made a stop at the electronics store, picking up a new RPG and the newest straight-to-DVD zombie movie then made my way to a women’s clothing store, named Sleeping Beauty, which came highly recommended by my own tailor. Although they specialized in women’s nightgowns as the name implied I managed to find a nice outfit that would work either way. It wasn’t long before the rest returned, and we were on our way back home, jabbering about what we bought and people or things that’d caught our eye.
Sayn’t had, as usual, stuck with getting a few books and a chain, which we assumed was to replace the one he planned to give to Chaos. One and Link had apparently went off together to buy a few games and look at new cars. They were thinking of trading their personal cars in for something newer. Chaos purchased some jewelry of her own as well as an ornate box to put it all in as well as a small hand mirror, plated in gold and embezzled with pearls around the frame topped off with a few new outfits, a dress outfit included. When asked what Id bought I left out the nightdress.
Later, at the house, I waited until everyone had headed downstairs after placing what the bought in their room before I placed the box with the nightdress in Chaos’s room on the bed. I had taped a card on the top that said only, “Lobito”, and then I too went downstairs. On the way down, as I began to hear the sounds of Chaos cooking and the rest watching the news, I realized how silly it must seem that I’d taken a liking to the girl in just a few days. Then again, when you make money the way I do opportunities to socialize and romance never really present themselves.
When I reached the stairway’s landing I could see that everyone was watching a news update about yesterdays “incident” on the bridge in which a man, suspected to be the leader of a terrorist cell, was killed in an explosion that also took several other lives. None of the witnesses claim to have seen what caused the explosion and could only comment as to how lucky they were they could stop in time.
As I sat and watched the program with everyone I became aware of the smell of oriental food cooking in the kitchen.
She likes her sushi.
Shortly before Chaos came announcing dinner, they named the civilians harmed or killed in the explosion. Each name stabbed like a knife. People that didn’t deserve to die like that, and that had nothing to do with the target save the fact that they were on the road with him. I got in this job because it’s what I’m good at and I get to deal justice to some legitimately evil people. These innocents were “collateral damage” as the rest assured me. I hate that word. It takes their humanity and individuality away. Who knows? Maybe I just feel this way because, secretly, I think it will absolve me of my sins: A silly thing for an atheist to think.
By rule we never spent extravagantly in any single trip. Drawing undo attention to our income may raise some flags. This however was the first time, aside from getting her new clothes, in which Chaos had gone shopping with us. We made sure she knew the rules but we knew that even if she did go a little overboard it wouldn’t really matter. Granted we’d tell her to be careful to not do it again.
When we were in the heart of town we parked, locked the SUV and went our separate ways. We all had our favorite stores and items we wanted. We’d get what we wanted, do some browsing and then, at the designated time, meet back at the car.
Once away from the rest of the group I headed for the tailor. My old suit had met an unfortunate end and I needed to order another. Other than that there were a few new book releases I wanted to check out as well as a few movies and games. I also wanted to get something special for Chaos. It’d been a while since a girl had caught my eye the way she has. Maybe that’s because it’s been a while since I’ve taken this much time to get to know a girl like this. But I felt like I may be able to forge something with her if I got her a gift to break the ice.
After I ordered my new suit, which took little time as the tailor still had my specific measurements and specifications, I went to the bookstore. I grabbed a cup of coffee in the in-store Starbucks then continued to browse through the shelves. I found a few firearms magazines that I frequently read to keep up on advances in the technology, as well as a few horror novels. It’d been a while since Id read any and I could use a break from the spy novels.
Before I returned to the SUV, a few minutes early, Id made a stop at the electronics store, picking up a new RPG and the newest straight-to-DVD zombie movie then made my way to a women’s clothing store, named Sleeping Beauty, which came highly recommended by my own tailor. Although they specialized in women’s nightgowns as the name implied I managed to find a nice outfit that would work either way. It wasn’t long before the rest returned, and we were on our way back home, jabbering about what we bought and people or things that’d caught our eye.
Sayn’t had, as usual, stuck with getting a few books and a chain, which we assumed was to replace the one he planned to give to Chaos. One and Link had apparently went off together to buy a few games and look at new cars. They were thinking of trading their personal cars in for something newer. Chaos purchased some jewelry of her own as well as an ornate box to put it all in as well as a small hand mirror, plated in gold and embezzled with pearls around the frame topped off with a few new outfits, a dress outfit included. When asked what Id bought I left out the nightdress.
Later, at the house, I waited until everyone had headed downstairs after placing what the bought in their room before I placed the box with the nightdress in Chaos’s room on the bed. I had taped a card on the top that said only, “Lobito”, and then I too went downstairs. On the way down, as I began to hear the sounds of Chaos cooking and the rest watching the news, I realized how silly it must seem that I’d taken a liking to the girl in just a few days. Then again, when you make money the way I do opportunities to socialize and romance never really present themselves.
When I reached the stairway’s landing I could see that everyone was watching a news update about yesterdays “incident” on the bridge in which a man, suspected to be the leader of a terrorist cell, was killed in an explosion that also took several other lives. None of the witnesses claim to have seen what caused the explosion and could only comment as to how lucky they were they could stop in time.
As I sat and watched the program with everyone I became aware of the smell of oriental food cooking in the kitchen.
She likes her sushi.
Shortly before Chaos came announcing dinner, they named the civilians harmed or killed in the explosion. Each name stabbed like a knife. People that didn’t deserve to die like that, and that had nothing to do with the target save the fact that they were on the road with him. I got in this job because it’s what I’m good at and I get to deal justice to some legitimately evil people. These innocents were “collateral damage” as the rest assured me. I hate that word. It takes their humanity and individuality away. Who knows? Maybe I just feel this way because, secretly, I think it will absolve me of my sins: A silly thing for an atheist to think.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Dedications and Chapter One
“Sleight of Hand”
By Randy Billett
This is for my friends; Cody, Adam, Kati, Jeff, Shawn, and Kyle who were almost exclusively the basis of the main characters. Mariah is pretty vital too.
These people are my inspiration and without them I never would have made it through my high school years. I owe more to them than they’ll ever know and more.
Another dedication belongs to Aaron “Wigger” Weaver. He was a good kid who went too soon. Everyone misses you man.
Sleight of Hand –
1. Skill in feats requiring quick and clever movements of the hands, esp. for entertainment or deception.
2. Skill in deception.
Chapter One
The fading sound of the explosion coupled with the sounds of metal fusing with metal, windshields and fiberglass side panels shattering, and tires squealing to a stop just in time to avoid death, if only for a short while permeated through the air after charges on two cars along the highway and under a limousine detonated in a display of fire, smoke, and shrapnel.
“Is that a good enough distraction for you?” One’s voice sounded in my ear through the headset.
“Yeah,” I chuckled into the mouthpiece, “I think that will do just fine. Feel free to pack up and head to the extraction point. Sayn’t and I can take care of the rest from here.”
“Alright,” He replied, “Don’t get shot too much.” Given our relationship it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not.
I got out of my car, a Ford Focus, and walk up past a few other cars, occupied by disoriented and scared businessmen and women on their way home to their families. It’s not them I’m here for after all. I jog up to the foremost of two limousines that swerved to a stop in time to escape a similar fate as the lead car. Skipping the back seat I break the window of the front passenger door with my elbow catching the driver off guard as well as with a three-round burst from my Barreta 93R. From the back of the vehicle I could hear someone cry out in a heavy middle-eastern accent.
There’s our boy. I thought, leaving the limousine, firing four more bursts, emptying the current clip, at the limousine behind. This caused half a dozen guards, armed with 9mm pistols and Uzi’s to pour out of the car.
The delay from the shock of being fired at gave me enough time to jump over the concrete divider in the middle of the highway. Judging by the blood on some of their suits I’d hit someone. A hail of bullets flew over my head as I ducked behind the divider, reloading my Barreta. The frenzied hail of lead continued over me, stopping just as I ran crouched along the divider to reposition myself and further disorient them.
Oh, is it my turn to shoot?
I popped out from behind my cover, obviously not where they expected me to be, judging by their expressions. They were still reloading before they could react to the second burst from the Barreta. Four stood left, gawking at the black clad man who’d just taken down two of their friends. How often do you see a man in a black suit and combat vest paired with a black leather cowboy-style hat and yellow sunglasses out on the highway anyway?
As they began, now, frantically trying to reload their weapons so they could return fire I dropped another two before diving over the divider in front of the lead limousine. Just as the remaining two began firing on me. As I did this I noticed the back door was open, leaving a clear view of an empty seat.
“Sayn’t, the target is moving.” I spoke into my headset. “Do you have a visual?”
In my ear the reply sounded, “Yeah, he can sure move for a chubby guy.”
We both laughed quietly.
I holstered my Barreta and crawled under the car. Looking around I saw a set of black shoes on either side of the limo. Trying to pin me was the first smart move they’d made, although it wouldn’t save them.
With as much speed as I could I unsheathed my trench knife from its place on my left bicep and took out the right guards hamstrings. He fell with a cry and was pulled under the car before his friend could respond. I silenced him quickly with a quick slash at his throat just as the last guard realized his friend had disappeared and was getting down to look under the car I was already out and jumping onto the hood. As he spun around the .44 magnum round from my Bulldog struck him in the chest just above his heart.
Good help is hard to find these days I guess.
There was no sound of gunfire after that but from the radio, “Got him between the eyes. Let’s get going before anyone you’d hate killing shows up.”
Sure enough the sound of siren’s had appeared in the distance and was wasting no time in getting closer. Our group looked very poorly on the deaths of civilians and police. Sprinting now, I dived once more over the bullet-hole ridden concrete divider, landing into a roll and continuing to the other side of the road where a rope, hidden from view was waiting for me.
Four minutes later Sayn’t, One, and I were in a motorboat headed away from the chaotic scene of death and destruction.
“So,” One was the first to speak, “have you ever tried using something quieter Lobito?”
“Silencers would take more room and don’t holster easily.” I retorted. “You have a lot of room to talk anyway.”
“It was your idea for me to give you the diversion.” He was right.
“Alright, children,” Sayn’t said sternly, “Can this wait ‘til we’ve returned the boat and made it home?”
We both nodded and sat in silence the rest of the way to port. About a mile from port our equipment and the outfit I had worn on the bridge were stowed away in tackle boxes, Sayn’t’s rifle in an ice box, and we were changed into swimming trunks and white t-shirts. Just another group of guy friend’s out enjoying the ocean and getting some recreational fishing in.
We pulled up to the dock, and Sayn’t went to pay for the rental of the boat as One and I collected the tackle boxes and ice box. By the time Sayn’t had finished the transaction and returned to help us we were nearly done packing the large white Denali SUV. He helped us finish and we were off, on our way back to the house to relax after a days work.
A few minutes later Sayn’t’s cell phone rang. He answered it without taking his eyes of the road and, after a greeting and a few answers to the affirmative he said “See you then,” and hung up.
“That was Bob; the money’s been wired to our accounts. Apparently, the whole ordeal is on the news already.”
“It should be,” I said, “News helicopters are fast and that was at least a half hour ago.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you have a point.” Then he added, “Too bad we’re faster huh?”
We all shared a good laugh. We were damned good. And we all knew it without letting it get to our heads. We’d only been in the hired gun game for two years now, going on three. And already we had climbed to the top of the list. We even got the occasional job from the CIA, and I’m pretty sure this was one, because as I found out later no one had seen who had killed the visitor from the Middle East or his guards.
Working the government jobs was always nice, though they were rare. Not only did they make sure we were compensated but they made sure no heat was brought down on our backs. The only catch was we run any hits on US government officials by them. Typically they’d pay us double to take the original client down.
Normally though the hits are overseas. Politically motivated hits in countries in the heat of revolution and internal warfare. That’s where the money was. That’s where we went. We had a few different sets of passports and credit cards we used. We made enough money we could pay off our credit cards a few times over so it didn’t matter.
We pulled up to the house, nice compared to most of the others in the suburban neighborhood, about twenty minutes later. A house that looked simple enough from the street: A two-story house with a flower garden out front, and a cobblestone walkway and driveway. Out back there was an in-ground pool with a balcony overlooking it. The balcony belonged to the upstairs dining room. It was mainly used to entertain clients and other guests. Even mercenaries made friends though they usual worked as our contacts; some of them even from the CIA or some other government group.
We unpacked the SUV, placing the tackle boxes and ice box inside the adjoined garage, making sure the door was closed before we began unpacking their contents into their hidden compartment behind the tool lined wall panels. When we were satisfied nothing looked out of place we headed for the door.
We walked in to a rare sight: An impeccably clean house and the smell of spaghetti in the air. It looked like our newest house guest was doing their job nicely. We took our shoes off and went to the kitchen to find her at the stove stirring the sauce and meatballs into the noodles. Yes, our redheaded thief was doing just fine as a maid.
She had tried breaking in a few nights earlier during a rainstorm. Sayn’t caught her before she could make off with some of his chains and watches. Rather than killing her, he offered her a job as our maid to work for a chain or two. For obvious reasons she agreed to the offer. The next day, while scouting for the mission we’d just completed, we bought her a new wardrobe and some other necessities she’d need. Since then we’ve had homemade meals every day and a clean house.
She greeted us excitedly. As we didn’t leave the house often there was a lot of time to familiarize over the past few days and needless to say a few of us had gotten attached.
“Hey! How was work?” She said it so plainly it was as though we’d been working in an office all day.
We all replied positively. It had gone exceptionally well.
“Good, I’m sure you guys are in no mood at all after a bad day at work.” She added cheerily as she removed two loaves of garlic bread, also homemade, from the oven.
“I’ll be right back to make your plates after I get everyone else.” With that she bounded towards the stairs in her apron.
Soon she returned with Bob, Hill, and Link. It wasn’t long before each of us had a plate of spaghetti with a slice of garlic bread sitting in front of us and she herself sat down.
“So how was work for you today, Chaos?” I said after taking in a few bites of spaghetti. Chaos was what we called the girl, based on a tattoo of hers, to keep away from using real names. The rest of the group knew each other’s real names but it’d just become easier to use codenames. Real names were an extremely rare occurrence in our group.
She giggled after finishing her bite of spaghetti topped garlic bread and she replied, “Good,” then she looked over to One, waving vaguely with a fork as she spoke, "Got into a fight with your room, by the way. I think I've won, I'll see if it's still evil incarnate tomorrow morning though. Those things always seem to come back to life."
Everyone, including One, laughed. We all knew the cyclone his room was.
After dinner we all placed our empty plates in the sink. The meal was delicious as we were all sure to tell Chaos who was already rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She was eager to do her job, and well.
Once the dishes were clean and the kitchen was tidied up we all gathered in the upstairs dining room for a drink. We all had our individual tastes. While Bob and Hill preferred to avoid the hard liquor the rest of us had a favorite. The top three, a sort of holy trinity, were Vodka, Whiskey, and, especially since Chaos came, Rum.
I went with a celebratory White Russian cocktail, Sayn’t with his Rum and Kahlua, One settled for Whiskey on the rocks, while Chaos, inspired by my White Russian, had a similar drink with the Vodka replaced by rum and Bailey’s Irish Crème where I used milk. She dubbed her remake a White Irish Pirate. I assume she felt her life of crime brought her closer to being a pirate.
Once we’d all amassed our drinks we went out onto the balcony to sit in the lounge chairs and relax in the late afternoon sun.
None of us had died, we’d made a good deal of money, and we got to relax with friends and drinks at the end of it all. These were the times it was good in the life of a mercenary.
By Randy Billett
This is for my friends; Cody, Adam, Kati, Jeff, Shawn, and Kyle who were almost exclusively the basis of the main characters. Mariah is pretty vital too.
These people are my inspiration and without them I never would have made it through my high school years. I owe more to them than they’ll ever know and more.
Another dedication belongs to Aaron “Wigger” Weaver. He was a good kid who went too soon. Everyone misses you man.
Sleight of Hand –
1. Skill in feats requiring quick and clever movements of the hands, esp. for entertainment or deception.
2. Skill in deception.
Chapter One
The fading sound of the explosion coupled with the sounds of metal fusing with metal, windshields and fiberglass side panels shattering, and tires squealing to a stop just in time to avoid death, if only for a short while permeated through the air after charges on two cars along the highway and under a limousine detonated in a display of fire, smoke, and shrapnel.
“Is that a good enough distraction for you?” One’s voice sounded in my ear through the headset.
“Yeah,” I chuckled into the mouthpiece, “I think that will do just fine. Feel free to pack up and head to the extraction point. Sayn’t and I can take care of the rest from here.”
“Alright,” He replied, “Don’t get shot too much.” Given our relationship it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not.
I got out of my car, a Ford Focus, and walk up past a few other cars, occupied by disoriented and scared businessmen and women on their way home to their families. It’s not them I’m here for after all. I jog up to the foremost of two limousines that swerved to a stop in time to escape a similar fate as the lead car. Skipping the back seat I break the window of the front passenger door with my elbow catching the driver off guard as well as with a three-round burst from my Barreta 93R. From the back of the vehicle I could hear someone cry out in a heavy middle-eastern accent.
There’s our boy. I thought, leaving the limousine, firing four more bursts, emptying the current clip, at the limousine behind. This caused half a dozen guards, armed with 9mm pistols and Uzi’s to pour out of the car.
The delay from the shock of being fired at gave me enough time to jump over the concrete divider in the middle of the highway. Judging by the blood on some of their suits I’d hit someone. A hail of bullets flew over my head as I ducked behind the divider, reloading my Barreta. The frenzied hail of lead continued over me, stopping just as I ran crouched along the divider to reposition myself and further disorient them.
Oh, is it my turn to shoot?
I popped out from behind my cover, obviously not where they expected me to be, judging by their expressions. They were still reloading before they could react to the second burst from the Barreta. Four stood left, gawking at the black clad man who’d just taken down two of their friends. How often do you see a man in a black suit and combat vest paired with a black leather cowboy-style hat and yellow sunglasses out on the highway anyway?
As they began, now, frantically trying to reload their weapons so they could return fire I dropped another two before diving over the divider in front of the lead limousine. Just as the remaining two began firing on me. As I did this I noticed the back door was open, leaving a clear view of an empty seat.
“Sayn’t, the target is moving.” I spoke into my headset. “Do you have a visual?”
In my ear the reply sounded, “Yeah, he can sure move for a chubby guy.”
We both laughed quietly.
I holstered my Barreta and crawled under the car. Looking around I saw a set of black shoes on either side of the limo. Trying to pin me was the first smart move they’d made, although it wouldn’t save them.
With as much speed as I could I unsheathed my trench knife from its place on my left bicep and took out the right guards hamstrings. He fell with a cry and was pulled under the car before his friend could respond. I silenced him quickly with a quick slash at his throat just as the last guard realized his friend had disappeared and was getting down to look under the car I was already out and jumping onto the hood. As he spun around the .44 magnum round from my Bulldog struck him in the chest just above his heart.
Good help is hard to find these days I guess.
There was no sound of gunfire after that but from the radio, “Got him between the eyes. Let’s get going before anyone you’d hate killing shows up.”
Sure enough the sound of siren’s had appeared in the distance and was wasting no time in getting closer. Our group looked very poorly on the deaths of civilians and police. Sprinting now, I dived once more over the bullet-hole ridden concrete divider, landing into a roll and continuing to the other side of the road where a rope, hidden from view was waiting for me.
Four minutes later Sayn’t, One, and I were in a motorboat headed away from the chaotic scene of death and destruction.
“So,” One was the first to speak, “have you ever tried using something quieter Lobito?”
“Silencers would take more room and don’t holster easily.” I retorted. “You have a lot of room to talk anyway.”
“It was your idea for me to give you the diversion.” He was right.
“Alright, children,” Sayn’t said sternly, “Can this wait ‘til we’ve returned the boat and made it home?”
We both nodded and sat in silence the rest of the way to port. About a mile from port our equipment and the outfit I had worn on the bridge were stowed away in tackle boxes, Sayn’t’s rifle in an ice box, and we were changed into swimming trunks and white t-shirts. Just another group of guy friend’s out enjoying the ocean and getting some recreational fishing in.
We pulled up to the dock, and Sayn’t went to pay for the rental of the boat as One and I collected the tackle boxes and ice box. By the time Sayn’t had finished the transaction and returned to help us we were nearly done packing the large white Denali SUV. He helped us finish and we were off, on our way back to the house to relax after a days work.
A few minutes later Sayn’t’s cell phone rang. He answered it without taking his eyes of the road and, after a greeting and a few answers to the affirmative he said “See you then,” and hung up.
“That was Bob; the money’s been wired to our accounts. Apparently, the whole ordeal is on the news already.”
“It should be,” I said, “News helicopters are fast and that was at least a half hour ago.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you have a point.” Then he added, “Too bad we’re faster huh?”
We all shared a good laugh. We were damned good. And we all knew it without letting it get to our heads. We’d only been in the hired gun game for two years now, going on three. And already we had climbed to the top of the list. We even got the occasional job from the CIA, and I’m pretty sure this was one, because as I found out later no one had seen who had killed the visitor from the Middle East or his guards.
Working the government jobs was always nice, though they were rare. Not only did they make sure we were compensated but they made sure no heat was brought down on our backs. The only catch was we run any hits on US government officials by them. Typically they’d pay us double to take the original client down.
Normally though the hits are overseas. Politically motivated hits in countries in the heat of revolution and internal warfare. That’s where the money was. That’s where we went. We had a few different sets of passports and credit cards we used. We made enough money we could pay off our credit cards a few times over so it didn’t matter.
We pulled up to the house, nice compared to most of the others in the suburban neighborhood, about twenty minutes later. A house that looked simple enough from the street: A two-story house with a flower garden out front, and a cobblestone walkway and driveway. Out back there was an in-ground pool with a balcony overlooking it. The balcony belonged to the upstairs dining room. It was mainly used to entertain clients and other guests. Even mercenaries made friends though they usual worked as our contacts; some of them even from the CIA or some other government group.
We unpacked the SUV, placing the tackle boxes and ice box inside the adjoined garage, making sure the door was closed before we began unpacking their contents into their hidden compartment behind the tool lined wall panels. When we were satisfied nothing looked out of place we headed for the door.
We walked in to a rare sight: An impeccably clean house and the smell of spaghetti in the air. It looked like our newest house guest was doing their job nicely. We took our shoes off and went to the kitchen to find her at the stove stirring the sauce and meatballs into the noodles. Yes, our redheaded thief was doing just fine as a maid.
She had tried breaking in a few nights earlier during a rainstorm. Sayn’t caught her before she could make off with some of his chains and watches. Rather than killing her, he offered her a job as our maid to work for a chain or two. For obvious reasons she agreed to the offer. The next day, while scouting for the mission we’d just completed, we bought her a new wardrobe and some other necessities she’d need. Since then we’ve had homemade meals every day and a clean house.
She greeted us excitedly. As we didn’t leave the house often there was a lot of time to familiarize over the past few days and needless to say a few of us had gotten attached.
“Hey! How was work?” She said it so plainly it was as though we’d been working in an office all day.
We all replied positively. It had gone exceptionally well.
“Good, I’m sure you guys are in no mood at all after a bad day at work.” She added cheerily as she removed two loaves of garlic bread, also homemade, from the oven.
“I’ll be right back to make your plates after I get everyone else.” With that she bounded towards the stairs in her apron.
Soon she returned with Bob, Hill, and Link. It wasn’t long before each of us had a plate of spaghetti with a slice of garlic bread sitting in front of us and she herself sat down.
“So how was work for you today, Chaos?” I said after taking in a few bites of spaghetti. Chaos was what we called the girl, based on a tattoo of hers, to keep away from using real names. The rest of the group knew each other’s real names but it’d just become easier to use codenames. Real names were an extremely rare occurrence in our group.
She giggled after finishing her bite of spaghetti topped garlic bread and she replied, “Good,” then she looked over to One, waving vaguely with a fork as she spoke, "Got into a fight with your room, by the way. I think I've won, I'll see if it's still evil incarnate tomorrow morning though. Those things always seem to come back to life."
Everyone, including One, laughed. We all knew the cyclone his room was.
After dinner we all placed our empty plates in the sink. The meal was delicious as we were all sure to tell Chaos who was already rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She was eager to do her job, and well.
Once the dishes were clean and the kitchen was tidied up we all gathered in the upstairs dining room for a drink. We all had our individual tastes. While Bob and Hill preferred to avoid the hard liquor the rest of us had a favorite. The top three, a sort of holy trinity, were Vodka, Whiskey, and, especially since Chaos came, Rum.
I went with a celebratory White Russian cocktail, Sayn’t with his Rum and Kahlua, One settled for Whiskey on the rocks, while Chaos, inspired by my White Russian, had a similar drink with the Vodka replaced by rum and Bailey’s Irish Crème where I used milk. She dubbed her remake a White Irish Pirate. I assume she felt her life of crime brought her closer to being a pirate.
Once we’d all amassed our drinks we went out onto the balcony to sit in the lounge chairs and relax in the late afternoon sun.
None of us had died, we’d made a good deal of money, and we got to relax with friends and drinks at the end of it all. These were the times it was good in the life of a mercenary.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
