Hunter's Moon.htm (32 page)

Babs tried to talk to me again when I was working on the alarms, but I wouldn't listen to her. I just kept asking Carmine to remove her so I could work. Fortunately, he complied. I know I'll have to deal with her eventually, especially if they were going to stay a trio— and it looks like they are. It's not just lust I've been smelling.

I'd be happier if I never had to see Babs's face again. Every time I do, the nightmares come back.

It's as much a memory as a dream. I'm lying on my stomach, wearing black. I'd been studying the redhead for a week, watching her every move. I knew she would be walking this path, at this time. When she reaches the top of the rise, I raise my weapon.

She stops halfway down the other side of the small hill. I see her head raise. Her nose points into the air and she turns in a circle in the light of the moon. She gazes directly at me, as though she can see me through the dense trees.

I pull the trigger.

It's impossible, but she moves out of the way. I couldn't possibly have missed from that range. There's a blur of motion and she's suddenly next to me.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with!" I was too surprised to ask what the hell that meant.

She reaches up in a blur of speed. I feel her fingernails grip my throat and dig in. She lifts me into the air like a toy doll as blood pours over her upraised arm.

I clutch at her hand but her fingers are like iron bars. I kick out with my legs, but it's useless. With a sudden movement, she flings me to the ground and my throat tears away in her fist. The pain was immediate and intense. White waves of light shoot through my brain. My scream was cut short when the equipment necessary to make sound falls where she threw it to the ground beside me. The only sound I can make is a gurgle that I've heard before. I try to use my hands to stem the flow of blood, but found that the hole was too big. I was going to die.

"Don't worry," she says coldly as I lay bleeding to death on the ground, wiping her hands on my shirt to clean them. "It will only hurt for a few minutes. It's more than you deserve, assassin. I should tear you apart and feast on your bones for hunting me."

My life flashes before my eyes. No regrets. I've always known I'd come to a violent end. Someone out there would be faster or meaner. I was just surprised at how much it hurt. I'd always expected a bullet in the brain.

Mercifully I blacked out, expecting to die.

I hadn't died. I'd woken up screaming the next morning— and every morning after for nearly a year. This morning, I felt Sue in the back of my mind, trying to grasp what had happened. She felt nauseous from the images and I knew when she threw up on the floor beside her bed.

God, I hate Babs. Someday I'll see that bitch dead, but not while she's with Carmine. Whether I like it or not, he feels something for her.

I put the sensors back together quickly and tested them to make sure they functioned. Then I cleaned up my tools and headed home to prepare. Carmine has given no indication to anyone that he even knows the briefcase exists. It's intentional. When I kill the hitter, the body will get misplaced in the morgue. Then we'll wait for Leo's, or Vito's, boys to come into town to investigate.

We hoped that by not letting on, the person behind it might make another grab for the case. The hit on Carmine was the start. I figured that someone would probably show up on my doorstep next. I was taking extra precautions with security at home and in my car, but not letting on that I was expecting anything. The only ones in Carmine's organization who know the whole scoop are me, Mike and Marvin. Even the regular guys were out of the loop for this deal until Carmine is certain of their loyalty.

I glanced at my new watch, a Timex SeAL model with an Indiglo face. I cancelled the rest of my maintenance calls for the day and spent the remainder of the time preparing myself. I met with Scotty and he gave me the details. Sally had stalled again and set the meeting for tonight. The girl would try to get him to bend her over the bed so that he was in position. She wasn't sure it would work. Neither was I.

The next time I'd glanced at the lighted dial, it read 12:01 a.m. I released the button, and the darkness closed around me again, cool and silent. I leaned against the concrete wall, feeling a mild chill seep through my coat. I always wear a coat on jobs.

The night was warm, but the dimly lit garage held an air of the approaching fall. The window that I watched remained dark. The girl had assured me that he would come to the room before 12:00.

I waited.

And watched.

A distant rumble warned of an approaching car, even before I saw headlights scan the wall. Damn it! The place was supposed to be deserted. The car turned the corner to the next level. My level. I stepped behind a massive pillar. The floor moved under me as the car neared, then passed me without notice. I observed with mild interest as the car parked, and the engine shut off.

The door of the car opened, and a high heeled pump attached to a nylon-clad leg appeared. The woman stood.

She reached into the car and removed her shoulder bag. She was attractive in an elegant way. Her vivid blue business skirt and patterned shirt set off her dark hair. She was intent on her own business, not even caring to look around her. Stupid. If I were a rapist, I could take her now. She started to walk toward the elevators, across the darkened garage, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. She stopped briefly to point the remote lock toward the car. I heard the familiar 'beep, beep, boop' as the door locks latched.

Isn't that the way with people? Protect the car, but ignore their own safety. The car can be replaced. Oh, well.

She took no notice of me. No surprise. I'm never noticed unless I want to be.

A flash of light caught my attention, and I turned away from the woman. Back toward the apartment. I reached under my leather duster and carefully drew my weapon. The drapes in the room were open slightly and the door had been blocked open by inserting a screw into the guide. The mark wouldn't be able to close them. The man came to the sliding door and fought it for a few minutes before giving up.

He looked out into the darkness, right toward me. I knew he couldn't see me over a block away. I could see him without much strain of my supernatural eyes, although not clearly enough to use the gun without a scope.

I recognized his face from the packet that I had taken from Scotty. It was a shame that I had insisted on using the Thompson tonight. With a semi-auto, I could take him right now.

Through the open curtain, I saw the girl, Sally, enter the room. She was young, not more than seventeen, although she looked fifteen. She was wearing a halter and shorts, and had her long blonde hair tied in pigtails. She had a fringe of bangs, and wide blue eyes.

They wasted no time. The mark walked past her and locked the door. She was waiting for him when he turned, and stepped into his embrace. Their clothing disappeared in moments, and I watched as he lifted her onto the bed and they began to have sex. Not make love. There was no feeling, no emotion. The parted drape gave me a clear view of their act, and I raised my gun in front of me.

Sally ran her hands through his hair and whispered to him. She smiled brightly— convincingly. He pulled out of her and she scrambled off the bed. She bent over the mattress and I saw him stand up behind her. It was now or never.

It was then that I realized that Sue was with me, feeling what I felt— the weight of the gun through tight leather gloves, the cool air blowing strands of hair back from my forehead. She knew what I was doing, and she was appalled.

That made me angry. She had no right. I had no time to feel her emotions as I stared through the scope at the target. I cut the tie to her abruptly, using my mind. It was the first time I'd ever been able to do so.

When the mark raised his head the next time, I pulled the trigger. He was thrown forward by the impact and landed heavily on the bed with Sally pinned beneath him. She scrambled from under his dead weight, covered with blood. She backed away from the body with a scream that cut the night. Panic filling her face. She hadn't understood the reality of what she'd agreed to— what she started. She grabbed her clothes and ran from the room. I watched for a few seconds more to make sure that the mark didn't breathe or move.

I turned back to the darkness of the garage. It was time for me to leave now— before anyone could decide what to do. I placed the Thompson back in its shoulder holster, and buttoned my coat. It had been a trick to find a holster to fit. Usually, I keep my weapon in a secret compartment in my tool kit. I have two identical repair kits, down to the nicks and dents, with one difference. The black electrical tape that winds around the handle in a seemingly haphazard fashion— isn't. My day case is wound clockwise, while my night case is counter-clockwise. I can tell the difference by touch. Unfortunately, the scope on the Thompson wouldn't fit in the case. I'd had to search all over town for a holster to fit it. It weighs about the same as a hunting rifle under my arm and has an extra strap around my waist to keep it at a decent drawing angle. Another reason for the coat.

I picked up the grappling hook and rope that waited on the floor beside me, and strode toward the center of the garage. I was parked on the first floor, but a man walking down the stairs or leaving the elevator might be noticed even this far away.

I had taken care to file off the barbs from each of the five hooks. I gently placed two of the hooks over the railing that guarded the opening in the center of the garage. The core was open from the first floor all the way up to the fifth, where I was. The rope had been painted grey to match the concrete. I flipped the rope over the railing and watched it spiral down. When it stopped swinging, I climbed carefully over the railing.

That's when I heard a woman's muffled scream. I had no time for curiosity, but I silently climbed back over and moved toward the sound.

The woman in blue was pressed against the wall. A fat white man with long black hair, and clad in a dirty T-shirt, was fondling her with one hand. The other hand was tight over her mouth. Apparently, I had not been the only predator in the garage this night. The woman was no concern of mine, and she had been careless. I turned back to my own business.

Then I started to think. I hate it when I do that. Sue was becoming a bad influence, even when she's not in my head.

Did the woman deserve to suffer this man's touch, his penetration? What she had endured so far would teach her to be more careful.

I sighed and reached under my coat again. I was close enough that I didn't even need the sight. In fact, it wouldn't work at this distance. I opened the action to remove the spent shell and insert another from my pocket. The shell wasn't supposed to, but it popped out of the action and flew through the air. It landed in the darkness, and I could hear it roll down the concrete ramp. I followed it as quickly as I could without being noticed. The pair at the elevator didn't hear the tiny metallic sound or my movements. I caught sight of it again, just as it was rolling into a sealed drain. Damn it! I'd have to leave it.

Now I was angry, which made it simpler. I inserted another bullet and slowly worked the barrel up the man's back, to his neck, and then to his head. He didn't notice. His breathing was heavy, and he moaned as he pressed his body against her. The sound was louder than the woman's smothered protests.

Her eyes were closed. She had stopped struggling, becoming passive. She was no match for the big man's strength, and so had given in to the inevitable.

But she didn't want to see what her attacker was doing, so she didn't see me.

I felt a certain satisfaction as the bullet erupted from the muzzle.

The man dropped to the ground wordlessly. His stringy hair covered the entry hole nicely. The woman stood there startled for a moment, and then screamed. The sound bounced off the low ceiling and filled the garage.

She gathered her ripped and ruined blouse around her and ran toward the elevator, and safety. She was missing one of her pumps. It didn't occur to her to take the other one off, so she limped toward the protection of humanity. I really need to get out of here fast now. Damn it to hell! I should have left her to her fate.

I hurried back to my task, since the attempted rape would bring the curious quicker than the murder down the block. I slid down the rope faster than normal, the rough nylon stinging my hands even through the black leather gloves. My suede duster billowed around me like a cape as I descended.

When I reached the bottom, I made a sudden movement of the rope, and the hook detached from the railing, falling into my arms. Just the way it's supposed to work. I practice. A lot.

I quickly, but not hurriedly, walked toward the rental car. I opened the trunk and put the hook inside, underneath the spare tire. I took off my gloves and my coat and put them in the back seat under a blanket, along with my holster. I was wearing a business shirt underneath, complete with a tie. I got in the car and drove out of the garage, making sure I fed the proper amount into the machine at the gate before I left.

My work here was done.

The next night when I called to tell Sue to get ready, she abruptly cancelled. She said Myra was sick. I hadn't been able to feel her in my head all day. It was sort of pleasant, but unnerved me a little. When I figured out that we weren't going anywhere and all that money was wasted, I was royally pissed.

I decided I might as well take care of my equipment. I always clean my piece after I use it. Then I clean all the others— in case I forgot one last time. It's relaxing. I heard her unlock the front door, and I breathed in the scent of her summer forest. It was made bitter by the boiling coffee that surrounded her like a cloud.

Something inside of her was enraged that I needed to clean the Thompson.

"You did it, didn't you!?" She slammed the door behind her. She was trying to make me jump. It didn't work.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Did what?" Pieces of the Thompson lay on newspaper on the coffee table. I had removed the barrel and it was soaking in cleaner. I was preparing to ran the rod through. The frame had already been oiled. The Taurus and Sig waited their turns on the floor.