INSIDIOUS ASSASSINS

by Jack Ketchum

  “I wanted to talk to you about a special job,” Gus said, sitting across from Jeff. “It’s a big one, and it will need both of us.”

  They had just finished lunch. Every other Sunday, Gus made a large meal and Jeff came over and spent the afternoon. Neither of them had any family that lived nearby, and the two of them had grown up together. It was just a habit they got into. Even when there had been women in their lives, they had kept the Sunday meal habit. It had outlasted a lot of relationships.

  “Sure,” Jeff said. “This is out of the ordinary, isn’t it? Usually we get instructions from someone else.”

  “I know,” Gus said. “Basically, this was a job I said I’d take care of. But then I realized I needed help. It’s involves multiple targets. I just think I’d feel better with backup. And, frankly, you’re the only person I trust.”

  “Okay,” Jeff said.

  Gus got a map and spread it out on the kitchen table. Jeff could not remember the last time he had used an actual map. Everything was GPS and Google Earth these days.

  “I wanted to go over the logistics with you,” Gus said.

  He indicated an area with his hand. “This is where the first target will be.”

  Gus wondered if Jeff’s abilities had progressed at all in the last few years. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t. Still no signs of telepathy. Not that it was crucial to the job, but it didn’t hurt. Gus read Jeff’s mind now, and didn’t find much of interest. Just the same old things that Jeff thought about, and the things he was pointing out on the map. Still no awareness he was in there, no attempt to communicate nonverbally.

  “It all happens on Friday, at eleven a.m.,” Gus said. “Meet me at seven o’clock. And we should probably meet a couple more times between now and then, to iron out any possible problems.”

  Jeff nodded. Just another job.

  Gus hated to take in a partner. He normally liked to work alone. But there wasn’t much room for error with this one, and he knew he could subtly control Jeff and make sure nothing went wrong.

  I hadn’t been nervous about a job in years, but then again I normally do it all myself and don’t have to rely on someone else. Jeff and I don’t work together very often. Maybe three times in the last ten years, but it’s gone smoothly enough in the past. He takes direction well. And he never hesitates to get things done.

  This time, though, I found myself a little anxious the night before and didn’t get much sleep. We’d gone over it all enough to anticipate any eventualities. Nothing could go wrong. But still, I guess I just don’t play well with others. At least, if I have to rely on someone, it’s someone who is just as much of a professional as I am.

  I have a nickname for him. The Blender. Because that’s how he does it, he gets inside someone, grabs onto their internal organs, and grinds it all up like the inside of a blender. It’s become his signature move, his calling card if you will, and it tells anyone in the know, right away, that he’s been there. No routine executions for us. Sure, the old way of doing it inspired fear in people, kept them in line. But the way we do it is even scarier. They never see us coming.

  And no one has a clue who did it or how it was done. Well, the bosses know who did it, the people who hire us. But even they don’t really know when it’s going to happen. And they’re just as wary about it happening to them. Who knows when a rival will pay to eliminate the competition? Keeps them on their toes.

  Needless to say, we provide a very specific service, and we get paid extremely well for it.

  We don’t even have to be near the intended targets. We just have to see them. And Jeff told me he doesn’t even have to do that anymore. He meets them beforehand, puts some kind of “imprint” on them, and he can kill them from afar. I can’t say I totally understand it, but it seems to work for him.

  I guess maybe his abilities have been evolving after all. Just differently than mine.

  He still enjoys his work. I remember the last time we teamed up, my telepathy had just started to get strong, and I could feel the adrenaline pumping inside him as he did his part of the job. Could feel the pure ecstasy he took in hurting another person. Ripping them apart internally. It was almost like a sexual release. It was so intense, it kind of scared me.

  I wonder if I’ll feel anything like that this time. We’d be pretty far apart—we wouldn’t be able to see each other. We’d arranged to meet at a coffee shop later on, after it’s done. So I wouldn’t be close by.

  They secretly called it a “Dealey Plaza” job. Not that they were anywhere near Dallas. They were in New York, not Texas. But it was like hitting points in a parade route, except this one wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge. And there weren’t any grassy knolls around. Just lots of big buildings.

  Jeff and Gus were on different rooftops, at different points along the route. Gus couldn’t see his partner, but he could faintly feel him. Once you got into someone’s head, especially someone with the abilities Jeff had, a definite impression was made. A strange sort of connection, even if they didn’t feel it too. Gus guessed that must be what Jeff meant when he talked about “imprints,” something like that.

  Gus saw his target below. A man in an overcoat, trying to blend in with the crowd. He waited until the man was about to cross the street, then orchestrated an elaborate tableau that would appear to all witnesses to be a car accident. They wouldn’t find much of his subject.

  Meanwhile, he could feel the adrenaline as Jeff took out his target further down the street. There was more commotion down that end, signaling another job completed. Gus pictured the scenario in his mind. A man stumbling to the ground, bleeding from the mouth. A crowd of concerned citizens either gathering around him, assuming he had had some kind of heart attack, or, once they saw the blood coming from the man’s mouth, aggressively avoiding him. (Was it some kind of illness? People usually didn’t take chances to find out.)

  Nobody would even think to look for them. No one would have a clue that these two seemingly unrelated incidents had anything to do with outside forces. At least until autopsies were performed. And if they were, it would be way too late for answers. It wasn’t like they left fingerprints or DNA behind.

  It all went smoothly, until, suddenly, there was the crack of a rifle being fired, and a wave of panic coming from Jeff’s direction.

  Gus did not hesitate to get moving. He had to get to Jeff.

  When I got there, I saw a stranger sprawled on the rooftop not far from Jeff, clearly dead, a puddle of blood growing around the unmoving body. A rifle nearby, one of the man’s fingers still touching it. Jeff was also on the ground, unconscious. I instantly checked for a pulse. Jeff was alive, but barely.

  I put on my gloves and checked the other body for ID. There wasn’t any. No wallet, no papers. Just a half packet of chewing gum and some spare ammunition. The face was not familiar. Who was this person? Another assassin hired to make sure this job went off successfully, who had orders to kill us both when it was done? It seemed possible. Maybe the guy even thought Jeff was me. No one else knew I had hired him as my backup.

  If this guy had orders, then there was a short list of possibilities. Not many people knew about this job, or how it would be handled. Few people knew what I or Jeff could do. I never went into any kind of detail when people asked me how I did my job. All that mattered to them was that things got done.

  I pinpointed where the bullet was, but I was no surgeon. I was a cudgel. To save Jeff, I’d have to get him out of here. People had heard the gunshot.

  I left the dead man in his puddle and lifted Jeff up from the ground. My telekinesis gave me the extra muscle it took to get Jeff downstairs. We got the elevator to ourselves. I didn’t want to have to eliminate anyone else. Down at street level, I used telepathic signals to confuse and distract any onlookers, as I got Jeff to my car.

  On my cell, I dialed the number of a doc I knew. Jeff was stretched out on the backseat. I did what I could to slow the bleeding, but I had a lot of balls to juggle.


  It was hours later before Jeff came to. He found himself in a bed in a backroom somewhere. Or maybe a cellar. From what he could feel, his upper body was naked and bandaged. The lights weren’t on and the room was dark.

  He thought about calling out, then felt a twinge of pain and decided against it. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself until he knew exactly where he was.

  He laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, obscured by the darkness, and waited.

  What seemed like an hour later, the doc came in. An older guy who had probably lost his license to practice years before. Gus was with him. Jeff felt it was okay to move a bit, and let them know he was awake.

  “How are you feeling?” Gus asked.

  “Alive,” Jeff said. “What the hell happened up there?”

  “A double-cross,” Gus said, but didn’t elaborate. “It looked like you took care of him good.”

  “Too little too late,” Jeff said. “When I crushed his heart he had already shot me. Came out of nowhere.”

  “He knew where one of us would be, and was probably sent to keep us quiet,” Gus said. “Or rather keep me quiet. I find it hard to believe anyone else knew I’d hired you. You didn’t say a word to anyone, did you?”

  “What do you think?” Jeff said. “I’m a professional. Besides, who am I going to tell?”

  That was true. Jeff didn’t have much of a personal life to speak of. Killing was all he had.

  “You died,” Gus said. “The doc said we almost lost you forever. You’re lucky to be up so soon.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “So what did you see when you died?” Gus asked. “Did you see a tunnel with a light at the end?”

  “No,” Jeff said. “Not that. But I saw Jesus.”

  Jesus? Do you believe that shit? We’re talking about one of the most hardcore stone hearts I knew, a man who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the arms off babies if he had to. And here he is, looking earnest as hell and telling me he just saw Jesus.

  I have to admit, I had no clue how to respond to that. It wasn’t the kind of conversation I normally had with people, especially not someone like Jeff. That was the last thing I thought he’d ever say to me.

  He must have seen the skepticism in my eyes, because he reached out and touched my arm.

  “No, I’m serious,” he said. “He was right next to me, just like you are now, and he spoke to me.”

  “Spoke to you?” I asked.

  “He told me to stop. But I knew what he meant. He wanted me to stop killing.”

  I forced a laugh. “Fucking useless thing to say,” I said. “To someone like you. It’s in your blood.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m serious. He told me to stop. And I will.”

  He looked really shaken up, so I just nodded and tried to calm him down. Then the doc gave him a shot of something to knock him out again. The doc said the best possible thing he could do was rest, now that we knew he was out of the woods. Rest up and heal a bit before I took him home again.

  “Come in,” Jeff said as he opened the door wide for Gus. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Same here,” Gus said, looking around. It had been a long time since he had been in Jeff’s apartment.

  They walked out onto the patio, and Jeff sat down on a lawn chair. He beckoned for Gus to do the same.

  “I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Gus said.

  “Yeah,” Jeff said. “It’s always good to see old friends.”

  “People have been trying to reach you,” Gus said. “But they told me you keep turning them down.”

  “I told you already,” Jeff said. “I’m done with that life.”

  “So you were serious?”

  “Of course I was serious,” Jeff said.

  “So what are you doing now?”

  “I’ve made enough money to give me a nice nest egg. I’ve been taking it easy. “

  “So it seems. So you don’t miss it at all?”

  “I thought I would, but I don’t.”

  “It’s been a long time,” Gus said. “We were kids when we started with all this stuff. It’s a lot to throw away.”

  “Not really,” Jeff said. “I had no idea what to expect. How long I’d be able to stay away from it, but I’m very peaceful now. No more need for violence.”

  “So you don’t use your skills anymore?”

  “No reason to,” Jeff said. “That part of my life is over.”

  “So how did you do it?” Gus said. “How were you able to stop something that was such a part of your very nature?”

  “I told you. He came to me and told me to stop. That’s all I needed.”

  “You do realize that you lost a lot of blood? That people do hallucinate in times like that?”

  “Well, if it was a hallucination, it was a pretty vivid one. It seemed real enough to me. And I don’t have any regrets since I listened to him.”

  “I see,” Gus said. “So I’ll tell them you’ve retired for good. You’re not doing jobs anymore.”

  “I’d appreciate if you did. I hate having to screen my calls all the time. I only answered it when you called, because I knew I could be honest with you.”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you like something to drink?” Jeff asked.

  “You got any bourbon?” Gus asked.

  “There must be a bottle around somewhere,” Jeff said. “Although I haven’t touched a drop in weeks now.”

  “You’ve really changed, huh?” Gus asked. “You weren’t joking around about turning over a new leaf.”

  “When did you know me to be such a comedian?” Jeff said. “I’ve always been pretty serious, but now you make it sound like I’m playing some kind of practical joke on you.”

  “And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Gus said. “Not money or anything?”

  “I’ve got all I need, Gus. You should really consider it, too. We’ve both been in that world much too long. If I got out of it, so can you.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “I wish you would.”

  “Can I use your bathroom?” Gus asked.

  “Sure, you know where it is,” Jeff said, not getting up.

  Gus got up and went to the bathroom. When he closed the door, there was a picture of Jesus hanging on the wall, baring his sacred heart.

  Gus took a piss and then went out to the living room. He stood in the opening that led out to the patio.

  “I think I’ll leave now.”

  “Leave? You just got here.”

  “I know. But I was here to ask you to do a job, and I can tell I’m just wasting my time. You’re done with all that.”

  “Yes, I am,” Jeff said. “I don’t know what else I can say to convince you. But I appreciate your respecting my wishes.”

  “Oh, you’ve convinced me. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Good.”

  I don’t know who was sitting out on that patio, but it wasn’t the Jeff I knew. The Jeff I grew up with. That guy didn’t have an ounce of compassion in him. Didn’t even know what peace felt like. And definitely would never retire from what he loved best.

  I thought he’d try to talk me into joining him in this new peace of his, but he didn’t try very hard. He wasn’t judging me. He was only judging himself, and had found an answer.

  Even though we knew each other since we were kids, and he would come over to my place every other Sunday afternoon, I found that I really didn’t have any strong emotions either way when it came to Jeff. I really thought that I’d feel sentimental, standing here in his apartment, maybe seeing him for the last time. We weren’t living in the same world anymore.

  And the people who ran that other world, the one he had left, weren’t too crazy about leaving witnesses behind. People who had suddenly decided that violence wasn’t for them anymore. Who had found religion and suddenly wanted to do good things with their lives. It made no sense to them.

  The people I worked for didn’t trust people like
that.

  I was surprised we didn’t have a stronger bond. But in another way, I wasn’t that surprised. We were both men who had made our livings by not getting attached to much in life. To not baring our hearts to anyone. Even all those Sunday dinners at my house. It was our way of killing time between jobs, but it hadn’t made us that much closer.

  I remember I used to watch him when he was around my dogs, Fritz and Thurston, two mutts I got from an animal shelter. I wanted to make sure he didn’t have a thing for hurting animals anymore. I could read his mind if he even thought about hurting the animals. He had thoughts like that, once or twice, but never acted on them. And those were rare occasions. I was glad I had changed the direction of his cruelty all those years before. At least I had done that much.

  He hadn’t been over to my house for dinner in a long time. Not since he got shot.

  I looked right at Jeff as he sat there on his lawn chair, and it only took a moment. It was like something big and heavy fell on top of him, except—and this was the fun part—I got to see it all, the way his body squeezed in on itself, the way his flesh flattened, the way his crushed intestines found their way out of his mouth. And then there was a second pounding, with even more force than the first, and I could feel every bone inside him snap.

  When the third invisible fist came down on him, there wasn’t much that was still recognizable.

  You see, Jeff’s nickname was the Blender, because he could blend up someone’s guts right inside of them, reducing them liquid. But I have a nickname, too, in the biz. And I’ve grown proud of it over the years.

  They called me the Pulper.

  CODE NAME TRINE

  BY MARTIN ROSE

  Go to Paris, they said. Your target is known only through his code name: Trine.

  They give me targets and I send them on to the undiscovered country. I do it with quiet and discretion. From the equator to the poles and through tropical heat to frozen deserts, I belong to the globe. My citizenship and my identity become fuzzy with the card shuffle of passports and false papers until even my real name seems an empty prop. I awaken in strange bedrooms and drug dens, unable to remember my location or the year. I mark the passage of time by whom I kill and each job completed; then I am on to the other. My vitality is financed by death.