by D.L. Cox
Tess shrugged. “That’s impossible. If he—”
Just then Phil’s body twitched uncontrollably and his lifeless eyes bounced to life with fiery red pupils. The demon inside Phil’s body noticed Tess, Izzy, and Saleena huddling in front of him and struggled to break free.
Saleena touched the demon’s face and said, “Relax.” He calmed down, and she took the gag from his mouth. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.
“Princess Saleena,” the demon answered in a demonic voice.
“Good,” Saleena nodded. “I summoned you to this body because I want your help.”
“What help?” the demon asked.
“First,” Saleena said. “I need to know what is in this human’s head. Second, I want you to join me on earth.”
The demon laughed. “Then the rumors are true! You’re raising an army to fight your brother.”
“No,” Saleena corrected. “I am stealing my brother’s network of humans from under his nose.”
“What’s in it for me?” the demon asked.
Tess replied, “There is no human to reclaim that body. It is yours. With it you can enjoy all the pleasures of humanity.”
The demon closed his eyes as if he was in deep thought and searched the corners of Phil’s mind. “Yes,” he moaned. “This body will serve me well.”
“And you will serve me well,” Saleena stated firmly.
The demon nodded. “As it is my nature to serve you.”
Saleena kissed him on the forehead, brandishing the outline of her lips on his skin. “You are bound by the devil’s pact. May you be banished back to hell the moment you so much as consider breaking it.”
The demon smiled and his eyes turned normal as the brand on his forehead disappeared. “Now,” he said sounding exactly like Phil. “The new and improved Phil would like something to eat.” The duct tape constraining him burst into flames and disintegrated and he stood and cracked his knuckles. “This feels different,” he observed.
Tess asked, “Different how?”
Phil rubbed his hands together. “I’ve possessed a lot of humans, but they were still alive. It was like a battle for their minds. They never really let you in. They’re always there pushing.” He eyed his hands and made a fist. “But now it’s just me here, but it’s not really me.”
Izzy said, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Phil explained, “I have complete control of his mind. His thoughts. His memories. His feelings. It’s like I’m him.” He inhaled. “I can even feel me as other than him, but at the same time I can feel him as other than me.” He turned to Tess. “You wanted to know about the money I pick-up and drop off?”
Tess looked at Izzy and Saleena and said, “This is better than expected.”
Phil chuckled. “I have a lot to tell you, but I prefer doing it over food. My taste buds tell me pizza is very good.”
Four hours later, Phil, Izzy, Saleena, and Tess sat at the dining room table looking stuffed. A dozen empty pizza delivery boxes lay on the table. Phil was supposed to fill them in as he ate, but they got so caught up in enjoying the pizza that no one said a word until the last slice was gone.
Phil rubbed his stomach. “That was something.”
Saleena stretched. “Sure was.”
Tess turned to Phil and said, “Now what do you have to tell us?”
“Oh yeah,” Phil nodded. “This human was mostly a driver for some drug smuggler name PJ, but he also delivered large bags of cash to a woman.”
“Where did he deliver the money?” Tess pressed.
“The location always changed,” Phil answered.
Saleena sighed, “That doesn’t help.”
Phil smiled. “Maybe not, but this human also drove the woman home a few times, so I know where she lives.”
Tess stood. “Great. We’ll visit this woman tomorrow.”
Chapter Eleven
It was four in the morning when Sheba got the call informing her that a car was waiting on her outside of her apartment building. She had expected an early pick-up and had already dressed and had her morning coffee and bagel with cream cheese. She grabbed her handbag and walked out the loft hoping she would be back by sunset.
The driver opened the back door of his black Bentley for Sheba and closed the door behind her before hopping behind the wheel and pulling off. Sheba leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and relaxed. She didn’t have to ask the driver where they were going. She knew he was taking her to a private airport in Connecticut. The hour-long drive gave her a chance to clear her head and prepare for the job that lay ahead of her.
“We’re here,” the driver announced when they pulled into the airport.
Sheba sat up and massaged her temples. “Thanks.”
They drove pass two hangers and three private jets before stopping at a private jet with another Bentley parked in front of it. The driver got out and opened Sheba’s door.
“Thanks again,” Sheba said.
Her knees wobbled a bit as she climbed the stairs to the jet. She couldn’t believe she had let Marcus talk her into going on another assignment. She had reservations about the job, but relaxed when she stepped into the jet’s cabin and saw Mary sitting there waiting for her.
“It’s about time,” Mary teased as she greeted Sheba with a hug.
Sheba playfully nudged Mary’s shoulder. “I was ready when the driver got there.”
Mary was a stunning blonde with sparkling blue eyes, melon-size breasts, and a firm round backside. She had the kind of body that caused men to double back for a second look, but a dumb blonde she wasn’t. Mary had graduated top of her class from Harvard School of Business. She ran an information consultant firm by day and moonlighted as a case analyst for her father’s firm, which meant she ran thorough background checks on all of her father’s targets and briefed Marcus, Sheba, and her father before they executed their assignments. She and Sheba were the best of friends, and seeing her put Sheba’s mind at ease.
The pilot stuck his head out the cockpit and asked, “We ready to go?”
“Yeah, Mike,” Mary answered.
Mike was much more than a pilot. He had been Thomas’ all-purpose transportation man for the last five years. Thomas called him a getaway specialist. It didn’t matter if it was air, sea, or land, Thomas could count on Mike to get him and his children to safety after they completed an assignment.
“Get strapped in,” Mike told the ladies and headed back into the cockpit.
Mary and Sheba sat across from each other. As soon as the plane was in the air, Mary pulled a briefcase from under her seat and handed Sheba a folder.
Sheba flipped through the folder and asked, “What’s the angle?”
Mary explained, “A local union screwed over one of our clients. The union was supposed to assist our client by voting yes on a bid our client made to purchase an aluminum plant, but the union heads pulled out at the last minute. I assume our client thinks he has a better chance of getting the union’s vote back with a new set of union heads.”
“What’s my cover?” Sheba asked.
“They’re expecting our client to send in his negotiator for some last minute negotiations, which they plan to stonewall. All of their talks have been under the radar. They don’t want anyone to know they’ve been in talks to sell, so you’ll be meeting at a discreet location.”
“Okay,” Sheba said. “It should be a walk in the park.”
Mary leaned forward and looked into Sheba’s eyes. “The client requests a specific line of action.”
Sheba patted her handbag. “I saw it in the folder.”
“The driver who picks you up when we land is our inside man,” Mary explained.
Sheba didn’t respond. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Mary sat back and smiled. She knew Sheba’s routine and she wasn’t going to disturb it. They spent the rest of the flight in silence.
/> “It’s time,” Mary told Sheba when they landed.
Mike stepped out the cockpit and said, “I’ll keep her ready to go.”
Sheba stood, stretched, and told Mike, “I won’t be long.”
Mary hugged Sheba and said, “Good luck.”
Sheba smirked. “I keep telling you luck has nothing to do with it. I do what I do.”
“Because you’re good at it,” Mike and Mary finished Sheba’s sentence together.
“Better believe it,” Sheba teased before stepping off the plane. She was in her zone: fearless and confident with a hint of arrogance.
A Range Rover sat parked outside the jet with a big burly guy behind the wheel. Sheba got in the back seat, and the driver informed her, “You’re meeting at one of the closed plants.”
Sheba fingered the strap of her handbag. “Doesn’t matter where we meet.”
She looked out the window and eyed the scenery as they pulled off. The view looked like something off a postcard, Sheba thought, looking out at a mountain range in the distance as they rounded a cliff. They drove through a series of huge hills and then hit a stretch of flatland lined with skyscraper-size Birch trees. Sheba imagined a wild animal would jump out in front of the car at any moment. They turned onto a dirt road, and she tensed when a forest seemed to shrink around the truck. Low hanging tree branches scarped the top of the car’s roof, causing Sheba to lean forward.
“Here we go,” she muttered when she spotted a rundown three-story office building up ahead.
The driver pulled up in front of the building’s entrance and said, “I’ll keep the engine running.”
“I won’t be long,” Sheba said and headed into the building.
The lobby seemed deserted except for an elderly receptionist who greeted Sheba when she walked in. The woman led Sheba to a cramped conference room where three middle-aged men awaited her. The men all sat on one side of a long conference table.
The receptionist left and the man in the middle stood and said, “We weren’t expecting a new negotiator.”
Sheba replied, “My employer thought it was time for a fresh perspective.”
“I’m Tony Taylor, and this is,” he nodded to his right, “Sam Keens,” then to his left, “and Tim Mathews.”
The men stood and Sheba shook each of their hands, looking them each in the eyes.
“Have a seat,” Tony told Sheba as he and his partners sat.
Sheba remained standing and cut her eyes at a clock on the wall behind the men. “My employer feels like you’ve smacked him in the face.”
Tony laughed. “I don’t think your client wants to know how it feels for us to slap him in the face. We have very hard hands.”
Sheba scanned the room. “When was the last time this building was used for anything but storage?”
Tony tapped his fingers on the table. “A dead building for a dead situation.”
“I can’t argue with you there,” Sheba said and pulled a silenced .9mm Glock from her handbag.
Before the men could react, she sent a bullet into Tony’s forehead. She had removed the spring from the gun’s chamber to keep her firing as silent as possible and had to manually eject the spent shell casing by pulling the chamber back. She did this in the blink of an eye and fired two bullets into each of Sam and Tim’s foreheads. She then calmly collected the shell casings and tossed them into her handbag before walking out the conference room with the gun concealed behind her back.
“Done already?” the receptionist asked as Sheba approached the desk.
“Not yet,” Sheba answered.
Sheba swung the gun forward and sent a shot between the receptionist’s eyes. This time Sheba didn’t bother ejecting the spent shell. She walked out the building and climbed in the truck.
“How’d it go?” the driver asked.
“Smooth,” Sheba answered as she ejected the shell and tossed it in the handbag along with the gun.
“In and out like the wind,” the driver said.
***
Back in the conference room, black smoke oozed from the bullet holes of the three men. Sheba had effortlessly disposed of them and then disappeared without a trace. At least that’s what she thought. Less than ten minutes after she had left, a man entered the conference room holding a flash drive. He eyed the dead bodies and pulled out his cell phone.
“Yeah,” he said into the phone. “We have a problem.”
***
“Thanks for the ride,” Sheba told the driver as they pulled up to the jet.
“No problem,” he replied and cut the engine.
Sheba quickly drew the gun from her handbag and placed the barrel on the back of his head. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to do this,” he pleaded.
“You’re a part of the assignment. No loose ends,” Sheba sighed and squeezed the trigger. The driver’s brains sprayed onto the windshield. Sheba took a deep breath and then pulled a candy bar size block of plastic explosive and an electronic detonator from her bag. She plugged the detonator into the explosive, sat it on the back seat, and climbed out the car.
Mary greeted Sheba with a hug when she stepped aboard the plane. “How’d it go?” she asked.
“As planned,” Sheba stated.
Mike stuck his head out the cockpit and said, “Strap in.”
Sheba and Mary buckled into their seats, and Mary asked, “All head shots?”
Sheba took a small box with a button from her purse. “That was the job, so that’s what I did.” As soon as the plane hit the runway, she hit the button and the Range Rover exploded. “And now the job is complete.”
Mary hesitated and said, “Was that so hard?”
Sheba eyed Mary. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mary bit her bottom lip and said, “All this talk about stepping away, it doesn’t make—"
“I want a normal life,” Sheba revealed. “Maybe a husband and some kids.”
Mary burst into laughter. “Girl please. You’ve never even had a boyfriend, and now you want a husband.”
“I said maybe,” Sheba snapped. “I just feel like I need a change in my life right now. You know, live a little, get to know some people.”
“Sheba, you are a stone-cold killer,” Mary reminded. “And you’re anti-social. Selling people clothes doesn’t change that.”
“For your information, I meet people at the store,” Sheba argued. “And I’ve made friends. I’m going to a party this weekend.”
Mary waved Sheba off. “Whose party? That crazy rich guy you style. He invites you because he wants to bang you, and you go to see what people are wearing and pick up new clients.”
“Yeah,” Sheba confessed. “But this time I have something like a date.”
Mary giggled. “What’s something like a date?”
Sheba explained. “There’s this cute guy who’s going to meet me there. I met him yesterday.”
“That’s so cute,” Mary taunted. “But take the time to get to know him before you scare him away with marriage talk.”
Sheba threw her hands up in frustration. “I didn’t say I wanted to get married. I said—”
“Maybe a husband and some kids,” Mary mimicked. “Same thing.” Mary’s eyes widened with a realization. “You still a virgin?”
“None of your business,” Sheba said defensively.
Mary shook her head. “You need to be saying maybe a little sex.”
“You’re so silly,” Sheba chuckled.
“I’m serious,” Mary replied.
Sheba thought about Nat and smiled. “Who said that wasn’t already in my plans?” Mary shot Sheba a suspicious look. “I hear that.”
“I’m just saying,” Sheba started. “You ever meet someone you just connected with on another level?”
“About twice a year,” Mary answered seriously. “Look, if you’re feeling this guy, don’t was
te time playing games with him. Have fun, get your freak on while you have the time, because you never know when the family business will come calling. Trust me, I know. Enjoy him while you have him in your clutches. No man wants a woman who just up and disappears in the middle of the night every other week or drops out of sight for days at a time.”
“That’s why I want out,” Sheba sighed.
“Sheba killing is what you do, and you do it because you’re good at it, remember?” Mary said softly. “Stop tripping, killer.”
Sheba leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Mary was right. There was something inside of her that loved the rush of a kill.
Chapter Twelve
Nat stood outside a Manhattan office building eating a soft pretzel. It was a little after five in the evening and he’d spent the last twenty minutes watching accountants and lawyers stream out the building after a long day’s work. Nat was waiting for someone specific. He started to think he’d missed her until he spotted a tall, slim woman in a skirt suit. Her name was Kim Christie, and she was the first name on the list Nat got from Charles. Nat had looked her up on Facebook and immediately recognized her doe-eyed face when she stepped out the building. He tossed his pretzel in a trash can and approached her.
“Kim Christie,” Nat asked, flashing his fake Homeland Security badge.
“Why?” Kim stopped and asked defensively.
Nat put away his badge. “Need to ask you a few questions.”
“Shoot,” she said, walking slowly.
Nat kept pace. “It’s about one of your clients. Clash Holdings.”
Kim stopped in her tracks. “What about them?”
Nat shrugged. “You mean besides the black market Viagra and dead bodies found at one of their establishments? We believe they’ve been laundering money for several terrorist organizations”
Kim looked directly in Nat’s eyes. “I don’t know about any of that. And I’m not at liberty to discuss any of Clash Holding’s financial dealings. They’re privately held.”
“Yeah,” Nat said. “But you’re listed as the chief financial officer of one of their investment subsidiaries. How about I ask you a few questions about exactly what it is that you’ve been investing in for them?”
Kim held out her wrists. “Am I under arrest?”
