The Hitman's Last Job

by Selena Black

  “Well we got a suspect. A Carl Reiner,” and he dropped the file on his desk.

  Callahan pricked up his ears at the name and hurried through the file. “Son of a bitch!” he declared. “Thanks buddy,”

  And the other detective walked away.

  Callahan fumbled in a hurry for his cell phone. Dialling Jerry’s number he jogged to the bathroom. Checking no one was in there he opened the file and began babbling.

  “Hey buddy,” Jerry sounded pleased to hear from him.

  “I got news! Your Mr. Reiner just turned up. Call just came in from an anonymous young woman who reported him for murdering her father, Thomas Martin,”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Yuh… but you better book the next flight south. He’s hiding in Corpus Christi,”

  “Sometimes you’re alright, Callahan. Regards to your wife,” and Jerry hung up.

  The detective shimmied back to his desk feeling like a disgraceful human being.

  ~

  Jorge was still lying on the bed as the sunlight spilled onto his lithe body through the blinds. He blew smoke up into the air and watched it dance on the ceiling. He was listening in on Jerry’s phone call and it sounded like good news.

  Jerry hung up the phone and grinned. “Get your shit. We’re goin’ to Texas,”

  “Ah fuck,” Jorge couldn’t be bothered getting up from his bed let alone fly to the other end of the country. “Do I have to? I already put in overtime with old man Reiner,”

  “Stop being a jerk Jorge and move,”

  “Urgh…” and he stood up like a petulant teenager and pulled on his boots.

  ~

  Anna was still in tears as the bus approached the Mexican border. Gripping hold of her fake passport she mentally pleaded that no one be suspicious of it. She wasn’t an expert on these things but as she looked at it she was certain it looked real. Plus she had her looks on her side and knew that counted for something.

  She couldn’t take her mind off Carl though. What was he doing? She’d replayed the moment a thousand times in her head. He was definitely kissing someone she was sure of it. But who was she and how did he know her? Was it just someone who looked just like him? Or was he falling prey to a moment of weakness? She cast her mind back to seeing his tall stature with the blonde buzz cut. And the way he stood with confidence. She even remembered seeing the way he slanted his posture to one side because of his back injury. It was him alright. The jerk.

  As she handed her passport over to the border guard she held her breath for what seemed like an eternity. But he seemed barely interested in it compared to looking at her body. He smiled adoringly at her as he handed it back.

  “Have a lovely day Miss Martin,” and he winked

  She smiled back falsely and hoped her tears hadn’t puffed up her face too much. Then she watched as the bus pulled away as they crossed the border. Her stomach lurched as they entered Mexico and she felt a peculiar anxiety within her that signalled both excitement and fear.

  Where she was going she didn’t know. All she knew was that the idyllic sun streaming through the window warmed and comforted her. Still clutching the briefcase she opened it while making sure none of the passengers could see inside. There was still thousands in there and she figured it would carry her a long way in Mexico. As long as no one robbed it from her...

  Then it hit her. She was a single teenager with a case full of cash in a foreign country. She didn’t speak any Spanish and she’d never left her home town until this week let alone know how to move abroad.

  “Fuck,” she cursed herself.

  The first thing she was going to figure out when the bus stopped was how to protect herself. She’d buy a handgun or some pepper spray. It was gonna be a steep learning curve.

  CHAPTER 25

  It was dark when the plane arrived in Corpus Christi and Jerry had a stiff neck as it landed. He hated travelling at the best of times. Meanwhile Jorge was fast asleep and snoring loudly beside him. Jerry nudged him.

  “Hey pal, we’re here,”

  And the little Puerto Rican woke up looking dazed. “Urgh…..”

  “I hear ya,” Jerry sympathized with his discomfort. “Hey I’ll rock paper scissors you for the price of the rental car?”

  “Sure,”

  And as people began to stand up and grab their suitcases all around them, the two men shook their fists. Jorge showed Jerry scissors and he simultaneously threw rock.

  “Ah fuck. Fair enough,” Jerry chuckled. “You can buy me breakfast,”

  “It’s always with the food with you,” Jorge yawned as they stepped down onto the tarmac.

  After travelling through the airport they hired themselves a bland, dark green sedan. Jorge slid into the passenger seat and lamented the aesthetics.

  “What is this? A car or a God damn electric shaver? No shape, no soul. I miss my Buick,” and he thought back to where he left it.

  Alone and cold in the Chicago Airport he dreamed of kissing its hood as he arrived home. Meanwhile Jerry started the engine and headed in the direction of The Bison Bar.

  “It’s not far from here,” he spoke to himself as he tapped the details into the sat nav.

  And they drove in silence through the dark streets until they reached the dilapidated neighborhood.

  “This better not be a joke,” Jorge seemed suddenly angry. “I don’t wanna come all the way down here and not find him,”

  “Callahan wouldn’t lie to us. Believe me he knows better,”

  And out of nowhere the neon sign for The Bison came into view. A rag tag bunch of heavy drinkers and bikers hung out the front smoking and jostling at each other.

  “Lovely,” Jerry’s face drooped at the sight. “I hate dive bars,” and he parked a few yards away to keep his distance.

  Entering the building they found it to be packed tight with a colourful array of degenerates. The two Mafia henchmen stood out as they entered in their suits. Everyone turned to regard them with hostility as they approached the bar.

  “Save your bad manners. We don’t want a drink,” Jerry declared and slapped his hands on the bar which he immediately discovered was sticky.

  The gnarly barman looked relieved and picked up a towel to begin drying a glass.

  “Well what can I help you with?”

  “We’re looking for a guy. Tall, ex-Navy, cocky as hell,”

  “Oh, I know exactly where that douche is. Had a domestic with his girlfriend and I sent him over across the street to a motel. He was driving me crazy,”

  Jerry and Jorge looked to each other amused. Jorge’s eyes were sparkling as he imagined what he’d do to him. His fingers began to twitch with the excitement of anticipating a kill.

  “And where would this motel be?” Jerry leaned forward.

  “Fifty yards that way,” the barman pointed. “And take a right up the alley. You can’t miss it,”

  “You’re a good man,” and Jerry pulled out a fifty dollar bill and placed it in the barman’s top pocket.

  ~

  Carl was lying face down in a stupor. Feeling both enraged and terrified for Anna’s safety, he couldn’t even imagine where she’d gone. And she’d taken everything he owned. He had that backpack through his entire tour of Afghanistan. It had survived a bomb blast but now sat on the back of a runaway teen who misinterpreted a situation and didn’t think to confront him.

  He was fuming mad when he checked into the motel, and almost penniless. Deciding he’d worry about the money in the morning he just wanted to drink himself into a coma as he pined after Anna. How could she leave him? He’d only known her less than a week but he felt as if he’d fall apart if he never saw her again. Despite her running off he’d take her back in a split second just to see her smile in his arms again.

  Swallowing three Vicodin and half a bottle of bourbon he fell asleep on the grubby bed. Luckily his senses were so intoxicated that he couldn’t smell the previous guest’s scent on the bedsheets. He drifted into slumber dreaming of
holding Anna.

  When he woke, it was because he thought he heard the door rattling. But the noise stopped as quickly as it started and he drifted off again. When he woke again it was because it sounded like a lightning strike went off in his room. He smelled the gunpowder that rose from the small hole next to his face and he rolled over in time to see Jorge fixing the gun directly between his eyes.

  Moving quickly Carl threw the sheets up towards Jorge and rolled to the edge of the bed, and as his reflexes kicked in, he kicked Jorge in the chest as a shot rang out. Jorge stumbled back whilst raising the gun, and with the reaction time only a Navy Seal is capable of he lurched forward and grabbed Jorge’s arm, taking advantage of the brief moment of opportunity. Running forward with one hand on Jorge’s arm and the other on his chest, he pushed him up against the wall before throwing repeated right hooks Eventually Jorge’s expression dropped, his jaw slacked and his grip was soft enough for Carl to grab the gun.

  Firing three rounds into his chest, the little assassin fell to the ground and bled out. Carl watched as he took his last breath. Then with one last bodily spasm, he was gone.

  Jerry meanwhile was standing at the back of the room, and as Carl approached he started to plead for his life.

  “Hey! I was trying to talk him outta killing you,” he lied. “We’re old pals you and me. We go back a long way,”

  “How could you Jerry? I thought we were friends,”

  “We are! We are it’s just….”

  “Just what?” Carl asked although he knew what the answer would be.

  “It’s just what Don Angelo orders…. Right?”

  And Jerry fell backwards into the wall as a bullet hit him straight in the center of his forehead, tearing off a chunk of his head. It bled down his face and covered his shirt as he slumped to the ground. Carl looked to him with disgust. He knew there would be Mob revenge. He knew people would be sent to kill him, but he was disappointed it had to be Jerry.

  He rifled through the dead men’s pockets and took what little cash they had, and the car keys in Jerry’s pocket. Then something else fell out, his dog tags. He picked them up, feeling a moment of serendipity. As he ran out into the parking lot he pressed the button on the key fob and saw the flashing of headlights on a green sedan. Climbing in, he could still smell Jorge’s cigarettes and overpowering cologne.

  He looked to the clock. It was five in the morning. Checking his own pockets he felt his passport.

  “Thank fuck,” he whispered in the dark.

  It wouldn’t be long until the cops were here. There was no way no one heard the gunshots. More than ever he needed to escape over the border. Luckily the roads were practically empty at this time, and if he drove steadily and quickly he’d be in Mexico in two hours.

  ~

  Anna had arrived in Monterrey hours ago and had no idea what she was doing. Walking the streets for hour after hour, she tried to dodge the admiring looks of strangers and look as inconspicuous as possible. But it was difficult with her flaming, red hair and ethereal complexion. She stood out more than anyone.

  Whiling away most of the evening she sat in a coffee shop and perused the local papers. She understood nothing but loved the look and feel of another culture. Then she saw an advert in one of the pages for a local art history museum. She ripped out the segment carefully and placed it in her back pocket.

  Now she was still walking the streets and absorbing the feel of the place. She knew she’d have to find a place to stay soon but right now she was exhilarated with the feeling of being somewhere fresh. She had money and her youth, what more could she ever desire to start a new life? But she knew she desired someone to share her new life with and the tears sprung to her eyes again.

  Walking passed a busy nightclub a middle aged gentleman in a beige suit caught sight of her. Chasing her down the street he tapped her on the shoulder. She spun round terrified and clutched at the briefcase tight. She knew there would a come a time when she’d need to stick up for herself.

  “Are you lost?” the man seemed genuinely concerned. “Are you alone?” he asked in perfect English.

  “I’m just on my way to meet someone,” she lied unconvincingly.

  “I don’t think I believe you,” he looked deep into her eyes as though he were trying to read her mind. “What are you really doing here? American girls don’t come here alone. This isn’t your average spring break destination,” he smirked.

  Anna couldn’t figure out if he had ulterior intentions or not. But exhausted, lost and deflated she relented. “I ran away,”

  “Oh?”

  “And I just arrived here,”

  “And you have nowhere to stay?”

  “No. But I can afford to rent a place,” she instantly regretted admitting she had money. He was going to rob her for sure.

  “So why Monterrey? Why not one of the usual hotspots for runaways? Maybe Tijuana? Cancun?” he was mocking her and she didn’t like it.

  “I just had an affinity for this place I guess. Thought maybe I’d bump into someone,” she slumped her shoulders and sighed as she wished she’d never left Carl.

  Thinking she’d probably made a mistake in seeing him with someone else, she surmised that stress can cause an anxious person to see just about anything.

  “You are a mysterious lady,” the man offered her a cigarette and she politely declined. “On the run, waiting for the universe to reunite her with a lost love. Am I right?”

  She nodded. “You could say that,”

  ~

  The sun was rising as Carl reached the edge of the city. He hadn’t been back here in years and he was instantly hit with the memories of running through the landscape with his cousins. And then he thought of his parents. He shouldn’t have fled America without telling them. And he suddenly had a craving to hug his mother. It had been too long since he’d spoken to her and he was sorry she’d been caught in the crossfire between him and his father. Still…. She took his side and that was unforgivable. She should have cared for her child no matter what any man told her to believe.

  As he entered the center of the city he longed to see Anna again. There was just about nothing he wouldn’t do to hold her again, to say sorry for what she’d been through this last week. He couldn’t imagine what damage it had done to her.

  It wasn’t too far to his father’s holiday home but he had a niggling feeling that stopped him from going straight there. He thought back to Anna and he had to be honest in that he didn’t know her as well as he wanted to. It had only been days, not months or years. But still, he had a slight inkling as to where she might have been headed – that is, if she did ever want to see him again.

  He remembered back to a place his parents had taken him as a boy.

  “Don’t forget how important art is to human kind,” his father had said as he led him up the step. “It can give your mind wings and inspire you to do anything you think of,”

  The art history museum was close by and it was worth a shot. He had told her that’s where he would take her once they were in Mexico, after all. But when he parked the car and looked up at the building as it shone in the sun, he thought he was being ridiculous. She had mentioned she loved art, but what were the chances of her ending up here? She obviously hated him. He estimated it was astronomically small. She was probably halfway back to Chicago right now with his cash and his trusted backpack.

  He felt like shouting the word “bitch” but couldn’t bring himself to think of her that way. She was just doing what anyone would have done in that situation. Anna was only trying to protect herself in the craziest of times. He probably would have done the same.

  ~

  Anna walked into the building as soon as the doors opened and yawned. She hadn’t slept at all the night before and had spent the last few hours sitting in a park hiding from people. The man in the beige suit had eventually left her alone after she lied to him, saying she had a gun in her briefcase. She didn’t think he believed her but it looked as though sh
e was more trouble than she was worth.

  The museum was bright and airy and it was a pleasant contrast to the hot Mexican sun. Anna was still clad in her big parka coat. It was the closest thing she had to a friend right now and despite the growing temperature she kept it wrapped around her. She didn’t care how peculiar it looked.

  Meandering her way through the museum she loved the healing quality that the building possessed and the way it calmed her nerves. She loved the big open walls that were only covered in the most beautiful images and she loved the sculptures. It was a place of pure creation, a place that showed the potential of what the human mind had to offer. Art to her represented a meditational state of the human psyche. She thought people were in their true state when they poured their thoughts and soul into making something unique.

  After an hour she found that one painting attracted her attention more than any other. It was gloriously bright red, abstract and full of destruction. In a way it reminded her of herself. Sitting down on the bench across from it, she regarded the painting for a long time. The more she stared the more her eyes got lost in the shapes.