Smith's Monthly #31

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “And the celebration when we finish will be even grander,” Mary Jo said.

  “Oh, I think we should practice that tonight, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Mary Jo said. “I love practicing celebrating.”

  They both laughed at that.

  And Jean didn’t mind that they didn’t make it to the hot tub for Mary Jo’s final night in town.

  She didn’t mind at all.

  PART SIX

  The Plan in Action

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MARY JO WATCHED from her apartment window as Stanton Cobble the Third, a tall, thin man with two bodyguards, pulled up in front of his condo in his limo. Her apartment seemed almost bare and had no personal touches. She really hadn’t mentally lived here at all, just used the place as an address and temporary base.

  Over the last three months, Mary Jo had watched the man’s every move, often from this very window.

  And Jean had tracked every move of the man’s family as well.

  It had turned out that Jean had only taken a few weeks to sell her house and move to the city. And after that, every night, after their target and his family settled in for the night, they met for dinner and wonderful evenings together in Jean’s apartment.

  So the time apart they had both feared had been short and now Mary Jo was stunned at how well they worked together, adjusting the plan slightly as they learned more and more about their target.

  Good old Stanton had shorted them both three million. By the time this was over, he was going to wish he had paid the six million thirty times over. And Mary Jo loved that. Over the last three months of watching the target, she had come to hate him more and more.

  Unlike her last target, the sheriff, she could never care for good old Stanton. The guy was just an animal, and actually, it made her mad that he had hired her and Jean to kill the sheriff. Not because he had been her husband, but because her husband had been just a nice man.

  But Stanton’s money had talked and soon Stanton was going to wish his money had talked a lot louder.

  Mary Jo watched as Stanton helped a young woman out of the black stretch limo and past the doorman for the building condo, laughing as they went.

  The woman was barely old enough to be legal in Manhattan and had long blonde hair, just as all of Stanton’s flings had. If nothing else, the man was predictable in his affairs with younger women.

  It would not have surprised Mary Jo or Jean in the slightest if Stanton’s wife knew about this secret condo as well and just looked the other way because of the kids and the money and their beautiful apartment overlooking Central Park.

  Mary Jo had seen that a great deal over the years as well.

  And it disgusted both her and Jean. How could a woman let herself be used like that?

  Mary Jo waited until it was clear that good old Stanton was in his condo, then nodded.

  The plan was set. Today was the day.

  Finally, they were moving.

  She quickly checked the cell phone she had for calls from Jean.

  Nothing.

  The plan was in motion.

  Mary Jo closed the window in her apartment across from Stanton’s private condo and pulled down the blinds.

  She had given notice on this apartment and when she walked out the door shortly she would be done with it.

  In four or five months or so, she and Jean hoped to buy Stanton’s condo across the street in a fire sale. They would, of course, buy it under a brand new name, not even the fake one she had used in the apartment renting.

  She and Jean could afford to live anywhere, but they both thought it might be fun to take over Stanton’s love nest after he was long gone.

  Besides, this was a great neighborhood and had some fantastic restaurants within walking distance.

  It was a perfect neighborhood for her and Jean to live.

  And Stanton’s condo had one major feature they both loved and had stood beside a number of times in their scouting and planning trips. The condo had a large hot tub overlooking a private roof garden.

  Besides that, at two bedrooms, Stanton’s condo had a wonderful penthouse view and a kitchen that would make a magazine about top kitchens. They both had decided that living there for a time sure wouldn’t be an issue or a hardship on either of them.

  Besides, Mary Jo liked the city and she had come to discover that Jean did as well.

  “More than anywhere else in the world,” Jean had said.

  And both of them had lived almost everywhere in the world. But both of them had always found themselves back in New York City.

  They talked often about their times in the city, trying to figure out if they had come close to crossing paths at times. They had even taken walks past old apartments, learning each other’s history with the city.

  Mary Jo was convinced that she would have noticed Jean if their paths had crossed.

  Jean had said the same thing about Mary Jo.

  Now they were a couple that turned heads.

  Jean had said it was because of Mary Jo’s beauty. But Mary Jo knew better. It was all because of Jean, the most beautiful woman Mary Jo had ever seen or been with.

  And after today, they would have even more time together, at least until their next job.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  JEAN TOOK A slow walk through the apartment near Stanton’s home apartment overlooking Central Park, just making sure nothing was out of place.

  Then she quickly checked her phone for a call from Mary Jo.

  Nothing.

  The plan was a go.

  She loved this part of any plan. She never felt worried or bothered by her killing. It was what she did.

  What Mary Jo did.

  And both of them were very good at their job. But this target felt like something special today. They had no intention of killing him or taking him out in any easy way.

  But they were going to end his life in so many other ways.

  While Stanton had been getting lax in not worrying about anyone coming for him, Jean and Mary Jo had been exploring every detail of his life, his wife’s life, his two kid’s lives, his parent’s lives, and his businesses and bank accounts.

  And the more she and Mary Jo found out, the more angry Jean got at the idiot.

  Their fees might have stung the bastard for a few days, but he could have easily paid it. He was just a greedy pile of walking crap.

  Now Stanton was going to pay a much, much higher price than the six million he shorted them.

  And Jean and Mary Jo were going to be far, far richer.

  Over the last six months, to start with, she and Mary Jo had been slowly buying up, under various hidden names, stock in his two publicly held corporations. Stanton was the president of both of them and major stockholder.

  In the last week, they had both, also under the hidden names, started selling puts on the stocks they owned, betting that the stocks would fall through the floor.

  Because of what they were about to do, Jean had no doubt those two company stocks would quickly vanish from the stock market. And she and Mary Jo would get even richer as it happened.

  Mary Jo had great skills with computers, but they had discovered that Jean was even better, which Mary Jo had seemed very pleased about.

  With a little work, but frighteningly not that much, Jean had managed to get all Stanton’s passwords and bank account numbers, including his two off-the-books accounts.

  All told, transferring all his money from those accounts to hidden offshore accounts and then moving it around like scrambling up cards would get her and Mary Jo another six hundred million.

  And she had all the corporations’ bank account numbers and passwords as well. That would get the two of them another five or six hundred million.

  Granted, before this, they both had more than enough money for anything they ever needed. But now they would have even more. All because Stanton was greedy and didn’t pay them after he had hired them.

  Jean went to the frid
ge of the apartment and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice and some chilled vodka and filled a tall glass with ice.

  Then with the drink in her hand, she sat on her couch and turned on the television. They had worked in time in the plan for her to watch her favorite soap opera. She loved doing that while sipping on a drink.

  This would be the last drink until the job was completely done later tonight, so she was going to savor it.

  And then really, really enjoy the drink with Mary Jo later.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  STANTON’S PARENTS WERE the country club types. They had a huge mansion in the Hamptons and loved being retired there. Stanton paid for it all.

  And the two of them were creatures of extreme habit, just as their son. Last night, late, Jean had set a very, very powerful bomb in the Mercedes they always drove to the country club for their afternoon tennis lessons.

  Mary Jo wondered if Stanton knew that his parents then paid the tennis pro a very large bonus to have sex with Stanton’s mother while his father watched, sucking his thumb.

  More than likely not.

  When Mary Jo had told Jean about that discovery, she had just shaken her head. “For a change I think we are doing the world a favor here.”

  “Now don’t go getting all superhero on me,” Mary Jo had said, smiling at the beautiful face of the woman she loved.

  Jean had laughed and later that night had pulled a sheet up over her shoulders, standing naked over Mary Jo in a wonderful position straddling her.

  Then Jean had said, “Super Assassin to the rescue.”

  “I know what will stop Super Assassin,” Mary Jo had said.

  “Nothing can stop me!” Jean had said.

  Mary Jo sat up and buried her face in Jean’s crotch, holding her tight by her butt cheeks.

  “Well, that will certainly slow a hero down,” Jean had said after a long moan.

  Mary Jo locked up the apartment after one last check and put her keys in the landlord’s mailbox with a thank-you note. Then with just a backpack, she left the building. She had moved what few clothes she had kept there out of the apartment yesterday and given them away to a charity.

  Jean would be doing the same thing in their other apartment near Stanton’s home shortly. Right after she finished watching her favorite soap opera.

  Mary Jo loved the fact that Jean had a favorite soap opera. It didn’t interest Mary Jo much, but she loved that Jean was passionate about it.

  Two blocks up the street, Mary Jo hailed a cab and was dropped off along the edge of Central Park within a few blocks of Stanton’s large apartment looking out over the park.

  There, sitting on a park bench so she could see the large apartment balcony, she had her laptop open like any writer out working on a story on a nice afternoon.

  She glanced at the time and then she started the ball rolling.

  It was exactly three-fifteen in the afternoon.

  First, she drained every dollar of both corporation accounts, making the transaction look as if Stanton had taken the money in all respects.

  She made the transaction look like it started from his personal laptop computer and then she started the international programs that would make the money completely vanish after dozens of transfers through holding and shell accounts around the world, ending up eventually in one of hers or Jean’s many accounts.

  Then she did the same with every one of Stanton’s bank accounts, making it look like he had transferred all his money offshore. She cashed out everything he had.

  She even drained every one of his credit cards.

  In just minutes Stanton had gone from having hundreds of millions to not having a dime.

  She had also purchased with one of his last credit cards in his name and some phony woman’s name, ten different plane tickets for this evening from three different New York area airports to countries that did not extradite.

  To anyone, it looked like he had cleaned out everything and was fleeing the country.

  There could be no other way anyone could read what had happened, no matter how much Stanton claimed otherwise.

  Then, at twenty-nine minutes after the hour, she clicked on a camera link that Jean had hacked into on a camera on a pole in the Hamptons.

  Mary Jo knew that Jean would also be watching now, since her soap was over.

  The Hamptons had great security cameras. But the security system was far too easy to hack into to be worthwhile. It was how Jean had gotten in and out undetected to plant the bomb.

  As Mary Jo watched, Stanton’s parents, all dressed up in their tennis outfits, came out of the back door of the house as the garage door opened.

  They climbed into their Mercedes.

  A few seconds later the camera flashed and when the image cleared, it showed most of the house completely destroyed and in flames. Debris was flying through the air.

  “Boom,” Mary Jo said.

  Then she destroyed that link.

  Stanton Cobble the Third was just starting to pay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JEAN WATCHED ON her laptop in her apartment as Stanton’s parents were removed from the planet by the bomb she had planted. She had used enough explosives to take out half of the house just in case one of them hadn’t been inside the car.

  They both had been, so the police would be scraping pieces of those two out of the surrounding neighborhood for a month.

  Jean deleted any evidence of the link and clicked into a second link. She knew that Mary Jo was watching the same thing she was. That made her happy, actually. She never had been able to share her passion, her work with anyone before.

  Jean shut off the television, put her glass in the sink for someone to wash later, then moved to the window and opened the blinds before going back to the couch. She knew that Mary Jo had a front row seat in the park somewhere. Jean was going to get the front row seat here because she could see Stanton’s apartment clearly out of a side front room window.

  She had spent a lot of time in Stanton’s apartment, actually, exploring every nook and cranny. It was a beautiful place, worth the millions it cost him.

  Or it would be for a short time.

  A very short time.

  Stanton’s wife was also a creature of extreme habit. The kids did not get home until four in the afternoon, so at three-thirty, Stanton’s wife always took a shower.

  Jean watched the feed of the bathroom door of Stanton’s wife’s bedroom in their penthouse apartment. After a shower that lasted exactly five minutes, Stanton’s wife, a brunette with dyed blonde hair came out of the bathroom with a towel on her head and headed for her closet. The woman had a nice body and kept herself in shape. Too bad Stanton was such an idiot and didn’t pay attention.

  And too bad the woman let Stanton be such a bastard. Staying with someone just for the money was never worth the price it cost, in Jean’s opinion.

  Stanton’s wife was going to pay a very heavy price for what her husband had done.

  Jean pushed three keys at the same time on her laptop.

  A moment later, the camera link flashed and went dead.

  Jean looked up to see the explosion shattering the entire top of the building, making people on the sidewalk below flee in panic from all the falling debris.

  “Boom,” Jean said a fraction of a second before the sound of the real explosion reached her.

  Stanton had now lost his wife, his parents, and every penny he had.

  And he would be quickly arrested, since she and Mary Jo had tipped off a number of police, the FBI, and the Security and Exchange commission about Stanton and his plans to skip town.

  His children would be without money and would end up living with his wife’s parents, two nice people outside of Chicago. More than likely they would be better off with their grandparents than living with Stanton.

  Jean watched the cloud of smoke rise up into the air over the large penthouse. She didn’t even smile.

  Stanton should have paid Jean and Mary Jo the
ir final fee.

  It really was that simple.

  Jean closed her laptop, put it in a backpack, checked the apartment one more time and headed for the door, leaving the keys on the dresser for the landlord to find.

  She had a dinner date with a beautiful woman and she needed to get ready.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  MARY JO GOT to their new apartment just a minute before Jean did. They kissed and hugged and then both laughed.

  Their apartment together was about ten blocks from Stanton’s lover’s nest and was also a penthouse, but it didn’t have a hot tub and they both missed that.

  They spent the next hour on Jean’s computer, making sure all the money had moved correctly and was now impossible to trace and living in their accounts.

  Mary Jo wasn’t even surprised at how much richer she and Jean both were now. It made no difference to her, since they hadn’t done this for the money. But it still pleased her.

  In her world, money and death were staples of what she worked for.

  And now she lived for Jean and for a good vodka and orange juice.

  After dealing with the money, they both got dressed up and headed out for a wonderful night on the town. They had a perfect dinner followed by a little dancing at a local club and then some wonderful lovemaking after they got home.

  And, there was vodka and orange juice involved all along the way.

  The next morning, Mary Jo awoke smelling rich coffee and eggs.

  She washed her face, put on her bathrobe and joined Jean in the kitchen.

  The television was on low, but loud enough to hear.

  “Anything happening in the world?” Mary Jo asked.

  Jean came over and kissed her, poured her a cup of coffee, and then went back to fixing the eggs.

  “The press is saying some rich businessman blew up his wife and his parents,” Jean said, “so he could escape with his bimbo. It wasn’t terrorists at all.”