TEENAGE ASSASSIN: Episodes 1 to 4 *** ONLY $0.99 FOR THE HOLIDAYS - REG $3.99!!! ***

by Taylor, M. W.

  I looked around one last time as I hit the ignition and was satisfied with what I saw. Moments later we were heading up the exit ramp and out onto the street, leaving the Delta behind us and Demario with it.

  I drove carefully, not wanting to attract any attention, scanning the area for possible problems and seeing none. Demario had forced my hand, but I couldn’t help but thinking that was one of the easiest hits I’d ever pulled off.

  The problem I had right now was what to do with Emily. I couldn’t exactly keep driving around with her on the back without a helmet. That was practically asking for a cop to pull me over. I’d never stop anyway, but I really didn’t want to running from cops with her on the back. No, I decided the easiest, safest thing to do was to pull over once we were a safe distance from the Delta and put Emily in a taxi. I’d send her to the gym with a message for Eddie. She’d be safe until I got there, and then I could figure out what to do with her.

  I wasn’t comfortable just sending her home. I had no idea if Demario’s people knew about her, and while I doubted it, I wasn’t about to test the fact, especially after what had just happened. It was best if Emily disappeared for a little while. I’d set up some cameras, phone taps, and other monitoring equipment at her place and monitor the situation. If there was any attempt by Demario’s people to test the waters, either by coming to her apartment or making an inquiring call or two, I’d know we had a problem. If nothing happened, Emily was probably OK to return to her life, with some general security improvements of course.

  Normally I’d circle around the block and run a few checks to make sure we hadn’t been followed. This time I was sure we hadn’t been, and it was more important to get Emily off my bike and into a cab so we didn’t attract any unwanted attention from the police. We were a few miles away from the Delta now and several streets over. I pulled to the side of the curb. There were a few people around, but nobody suspicious. I didn’t even have to call for a cab as one was about to pass us a few seconds later, and I flagged it down.

  As I packed Emily in and gave the cabbie directions to the gym, I was a little startled when Emily suddenly put her arms around me and gave me a big hug, holding me tight for several moments before letting go.

  “Thank you,” she said, tears forming in her eyes as she looked at me. “Thank you so, so much.”

  I just smiled back, shut the door to the cab, and watched her pull away.

  ***

  I stopped at my apartment on the way to meet Emily at the gym. I needed a few things, and I figured I might as well grab them on the way. As I pulled into the parking lot, my eyes locked on the yellow Camaro, parked at the back of the lot, nose out. The tint on the windows made it hard to see inside from the angle and distance I was at, but I could see still make out the outline of the driver sitting in the driver’s seat.

  I paused for a moment, stopping the bike and putting my foot down. Should I run? I didn’t think the guy was an immediate threat, but then I wasn’t sure either. The fact that he was here, at my apartment, didn’t sit well with me. How the hell did he know where I lived? That opened up a whole new set of problems, one I really didn’t want to deal with right now.

  I stared at the Camaro for a minute or two, my mind weighing my options, and then I put the Ninja into first gear, drove up to the Camaro, and backed the bike in beside it. As I took my helmet off, I could hear the electric motor of the driver’s side window as it dropped down into the door, leaving me staring eye to eye with the driver. He was about 35, give or take, dark hair, green eyes, clean shaven. Ruggedly good looking in that jock’ish, out-door type kind of way. His lips moved into a slight smile, and then he spoke.

  “Busy day?” he said, almost more of a statement than a question, that smile back on his lips, accompanied by something that looked like mild amusement in his eyes.

  I looked at him for a moment before replying. “What do you want?”

  He waited a moment himself before answering, almost as if he was still deciding how he was going to play this.

  “OK, I get it. Straight to the point. No problem. We can do that. I’d like to offer you a job.”

  “I’m not looking for work,” I replied, my eyes still locked on his, watching what was going on in them, trying to read what I could there.

  “No, I don’t imagine you are,” he said, “but then you never are, are you? Work just kind of finds you, doesn’t it?”

  His words were statements again, not the questions they were phrased as. I found myself wondering again just who this guy worked for, and just how much he knew about me.

  “Who do you work for?” I asked, playing the game, asking as many questions as I received, aiming to keep the flow of information two sided.

  “Oh, let’s just say I work for a branch of the government. The kind you don’t find in the phone book. But then I’m pretty sure you had that much figured out already.”

  “Which branch? CIA? NSA? Homeland Security?” I could’ve kept rattling off acronyms you’ve probably never heard of, but I settled for the big three.

  “Something like that,” he smiled.

  I stared back, my eyes not leaving his. “Are you going to keep being smart, or are we actually going to have a real conversation. Because if we’re not, I’m done here.”

  He chuckled softly. “Impatient are we? OK, OK, I get it. I’ve got you at somewhat of a disadvantage here, and you don’t like the situation, especially since we’re sitting here talking in the parking lot of YOUR apartment building. I probably wouldn’t like it much either if I was you.”

  He paused for a moment to let the implications of what he’d just said sink in, although I guessed he already knew I was very aware of what they were.

  “I work for Homeland Security, at least on paper anyway. I’m actually part of an unofficial group that works with them, some might say under them, but that’s not really accurate. We’re kind of the unseen caretakers behind the scene.”

  I smiled at his choice of words. “Caretakers huh? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

  He smiled back and shrugged. “Yes, but it’s more accurate than not. We take care of things that can’t be taken care of through official channels, not unlike yourself actually.”

  Again, there was that implied knowledge of who I was and what I did. What I really did.

  “So why do you need me?” I asked, deciding it was time to cut to the chase.

  “We have a problem that I think you would be perfectly suited to help us with. In fact, I know you would be, especially since you’re already somewhat involved.”

  Now he had peaked my curiosity. “And what problem would that be?”

  “One that involves a couple of cops you may have heard of, Harper and McGinnis. Also involves a certain crime family that you just removed a member of. And oh, yes, a certain gentleman I doubt you know much about. Goes by the name of Cryer.”

  In one fell swoop he’d just rattled off everything that was on my plate at the moment. The burning question still remained though, how did he know about me, and maybe more importantly, how much did he know?

  “OK, you’ve got my attention,” I replied. “I know what my interest is in each of those names, but what’s yours? Last I heard, Homeland Security wasn’t in the business of dealing with dirty cops or mob families.”

  He smiled again and nodded his head in agreement. “You’re right, we’re not. But we are in the business of stopping terrorists and keeping the United States secure from both internal and external threats.”

  I tilted my head and shifted my weight on the Ninja as I looked back at him. “OK, so what does a couple of crooked cops, a mob family, and some unknown player named Cryer have to do with any of that.”

  “Ah,” he smiled, “now we’re getting somewhere. Harper and McGinnis, as you’re probably aware, are into just about anything that will make them money. They’re both solidly connected to the mob through the same family as the man you just put down. That same family is also involved in we
apons sales, which brings us to Cryer. Cryer is an international player. He deals in just about anything that will make him a decent buck, which up until lately has been mostly automatic weapons and small firearms.”

  I nodded to show I was following along, still not sure how this concerned me, but interested enough to continue listening, especially since he still knew a lot more about me than I did about him.

  “OK, I get it. They’re all connected, but I still don’t see exactly how this is a Homeland Security problem?”

  “Well, we’re back to Cryer again. As I said, he’s an international player. He has ties to Al Quaida, Hezbollah, and a few other Middle East groups that are on our radar. He’s also got ties to some rather unsavory elements throughout the old soviet bloc. He’s quite well connected actually. Done rather well for himself as far as that goes.”

  Mr. Camaro, as I’d come to think of him in my head, paused for a moment before carrying on. “To connect the dots, the mob, at least this specific family, has branched out into weapons, hence the ties to Cryer. They’ve also gotten quite heavily involved in the drug trade, although as more of a behind the scenes player, which is where Harper and McGinnis come in. Those two take care of a lot of the logistics of their distribution network on the drug side. We got interested when we noticed money flowing in from the Middle East and ending up in the hands of that same mob family, money we think is coming from one of the terrorist organizations I mentioned.”

  “And what is it you would like me to do?” I asked, already having a pretty good idea, but wanting him to spell it out for me.

  “I want you to kill them,” he said, not missing a beat, the same slight smile still on his lips. “All of them.”

  The first bit I was expecting. The last bit caught me by surprise, and I wanted to clarify. “All of them?”

  “All of them,” Mr. Camaro confirmed. “Harper, McGinnis, the mob family, and Cryer.”

  I chewed on that for a minute, turning it over in my head. “Why the whole mob family?”

  “Why not?” Mr. Camaro smiled. “They’re like rats. If you just kill the leader, another one will take his place instantly. The problem will remain. If all of them are removed, we remove the whole problem, permanently.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I replied. “Someone else will move in to take their place. Whether it’s another family expanding, a new guy, or an entirely different group, nature abhors a vacuum. There’s always more rats.”

  “Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Mr. Camaro agreed, “but the immediate problem will be solved, and it isn’t likely we’ll see any of the same kind of trouble for some time. Sure there may be other dirty cops on the force, but they’re likely too keep their heads down after they hear about Harper and McGinnis. And without the mob, supply will have dried up too. And Cryer is a bit of a unique piece of the puzzle. With him gone, the terrorist connection is gone too.”

  I thought about it for minute, and then decided I was going to chew this over for a bit before deciding if I was interested. I did, however, have a few more questions for Mr. Camaro.

  “I need time to think about what you’ve just told me. I’m not against doing the job, especially because it solves some problems of my own at the same time, but I need to go over what you’ve told me, let it settle a bit before I make any decisions.”

  Mr. Camaro just smiled and nodded his head, as if that was about what he’d expected to hear.

  “Couple of things I need to know in the meantime,” I added, indicating the conversation wasn’t quite over.

  “Shoot,” he smiled.

  “First, I’d like to know how you found out about me. I have my own theories, but I’d like to hear them from you.”

  “Understandable. We’ve been aware of your activities for some time now, Miss Black. Granted, we didn’t know who you were up to until more recently, and then you were noticed by some of our surveillance people while we were watching Mr. Demario. After that, it didn’t take us long to put the pieces together and compile a dossier on you.”

  My eyes must’ve betrayed something, disbelief perhaps, I don’t know. Whatever it was, he obviously saw it.

  “Oh, don’t feel bad Miss Black. You’re very good. Better than most of my people in fact. We almost didn’t spot you. But then surely you understand, it’s almost impossible to stay off everyone’s radar these days, especially when you’re talking about the vast resources of the United States government.”

  I nodded, my question still mostly unanswered, but I figured that was likely about as forthcoming as Mr. Camaro was going to get.

  “And your second question, Miss Black?”

  “How much does the job pay?”

  Mr. Camaro’s smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask. A million a piece for Harper, McGinnis, and Cryer. Ten million in total if you get the whole of Demario’s family.”

  I nodded like it was an acceptable sum, when really, behind the mask of neutrality I hoped was holding up, I was more than a little surprised. Ten million was an awful lot of money! Granted, the job was going to be the biggest one I’d ever taken on. Probably the most difficult and most dangerous too. But frankly, I’d expected Mr. Camaro to give me some line of bullshit about serving my country, and that I was really solving my own problem by solving his. I sure hadn’t expected him to come out with ten million dollars as the answer to my question.

  “How do I get in touch with you?” I asked.

  He held his hand out of the car, a plain white business card held between his index and third fingers. I took the card and looked at it. All that was printed on it was one word, Joe, and the ten digits of a phone number complete with area code.

  “You’re Joe, I take it?”

  “Sure,” he replied, in a kind of casual manner that said that would do for now.

  “OK, Joe. I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be waiting Miss Black.”

  With that the whir of the electric motor sounded again as the driver’s side window slid back up in it’s tracks. Mr. Camaro, or Joe as his business card said, smiled and pulled out of the parking lot. I watched the car turn out onto the street and disappear up the road, and I wondered what I had just gotten herself into.

  I went over everything he’d told me in my head as I headed up to the stairs to my floor. It made sense, in vague sort of way. He hadn’t been very forthcoming on details, but maybe that would come later.

  Or maybe I shouldn’t believe a word he’d said?

  How did I really know who he was anyway?

  Maybe he was setting me up?

  But if he was, what was the reason?

  Questions, questions, and more questions. I had plenty of them. And there was also the whole problem of me being exposed. Joe knew who I was. He knew what I looked like. He knew where I lived. I didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t like it one bit.

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  One last thing. I’ve spent many hours writing Teenage Assassin and many more editing for typos, spelling mistakes, and any other errors. That said, as is always the case, I’m sure you’ll find some I missed some. I hope they are minor and infrequent and none of them break the story for you. If you find any errors, and have a few minutes, please email me and let me know so I can make corrections in future editions. Thanks!!!