Covert
Page 7
“Your company has arrived, Mr. Maseretti.” Ava’s voice is soft and warm as she announces my arrival.
“Thank you Ava. That will be all.” A plume of cigar smoke withers from the side of his mouth. Pete doesn’t even turn around.
Ava retraces her steps and leaves the room obediently. She closes the door behind us and gives us the privacy we need for our meeting, but the exotic smell of her perfume lingers as it becomes one with the smell of Pete’s cigar.
“I’m glad you found me,” Pete says, finally, turning around to face me. “Have a seat, for we have important matters to discuss and I don’t want to waste time with small inconsequential chitchat.” He waves his hand towards the leather chair and places the cigar into an ashtray.
“I didn’t come to waste your time, Pete. I can assure you of that.” I walk over to take a seat in front of his desk. “Your time and my time both mean money and that’s the bottom line, so let’s get straight to it.” I place one leg over my knee, fix my tie, and sit back to see whether he offers me enough to do what I do best.
I look over at Snake Eyes and remember why they gave him that name. Looking into his cunning eyes, you never know when he will strike. His pupils even look vertical like a viper. His piercing stare may mesmerize women of a certain caliber, but I know his kind. He’s the type that charms the hell out of you and then he strikes. His strike is as deadly as the poisonous of snakes; that’s why I must keep my wits about me. Partners or not, I wouldn’t trust him any more than I would trust sleeping with dozens of vipers.
Pete “Snake Eyes” Maseretti
“I have a very important job for you to handle. You come highly recommended,” I say to the professional hitman that sits across from me in one of my many meeting places. In the underground crime world, names get tossed around. I’ve been told this hitman can make a person disappear like Houdini.
“First thing’s first. I need for you to stand and place your hands flat on the desk.” There’s a little apprehension in the hitman’s request, one that I don’t care much for.
“Wait one minute, I’m the one who gives the orders here,” I say, eyes boring into him. Neither of us seem to be backing down.
“If you want to hire the best, you will do as I ask. Your pussy ass foot soldiers frisked me before I entered your office, but I still got in with an AK 47, a silencer, and this.” He pulls out a 357 Magnum and points it between my eyes. “Don’t you think that I deserve a little courtesy?” the hitman says, holding the gun.
“I suppose so.” I place my hands flat on the desk. With the 357 still pointed at my head, the professional hitman walks around behind me to frisk me from top to bottom. He feels inside my suit pocket and finds nothing, my waist also produces nothing.
“What’s this?” He removes the firearm strapped to my left ankle. He opens the chamber to check for bullets before emptying them into his hand. He gives me the firearm and places the bullets inside the pocket of his slacks. “You know, as well as I do, in this business, no one knows who they can really trust.”
“Nice, very nice,” I say and start to chuckle ghoulishly. “I like you, real loose fucking cannon. I think I’ve definitely got the right man for the job.”
“Of course.” The hitman takes a seat back in his chair.
“Well, since we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can get down to the business at hand. Like I said before, I have a problem that I need to disappear.”
“What is the problem and how soon do you want it taken care of?”
I open my desk drawer and remove a five by ten glossy photo, then slide it across to him. “This is who I want you to take out for me. I need it done as soon as possible. She’s a loose end who saw too much. You can just say she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The hitman reaches across the desk to pick up the picture. He stares at it a while before he looks up at me with deadly cold eyes. “May I keep this?”
“Of course.”
“This is my fee,” he slides a business card with the amount of his services listed on the back.
The amount is exorbitant, but seeing how nicely he operates, I’m more than willing to pay the amount to silence a problem that could come back to haunt me at later date. “Find the bitch, get close to her, and kill her. Oh, and one more thing, I want pictures of her before and after the job is done.” I place the cigar into my mouth and puff.
“I need half of the money up front. You can give me the other half once the job is done.” The smooth-operating hitman sits back comfortably in his chair. He’s discussing the transaction as if this is an everyday occurrence for him. I’m thinking about testing him to see if he’s legit enough to be on my team, once this hit is complete.
I stand and walk over to the steel four by four safe hidden behind a panel in the wall. With my back to him, I put in the combination and open it. I slide fifty grand into a black duffel bag before locking the safe and sliding the panel back into place. “Here ya go.” I hand him the duffel bag.
“Right now, she’s in Cali. The slime thinks she’s gotten away scot free, but I have a surprise for her ass. I want Paisley Kyles AKA Allison McPhearson to pay. I want her to suffer before you kill her and be sure to tell her who is responsible for her demise. Be sure to tell her Pete “Snake Eyes” Maseretti sent ya. That’s what she gets for being in the wrong place at the wrong damn time,” I say with intent.
“Consider it done,” he says before sealing the deal with a handshake, a death before dishonor handshake that is. I take one last look into his steely eyes before he walks out the door with the assurance that the deed is capably handled.
“Oh ah, there is one more thing—”
“Yes?” he asks, standing at the door. I walk over to the closet and take out a shoe box.
“Here.”
“A shoe?”
“Yeah, it’s hers. When you put this on her foot, she’ll know exactly why she’s about to take her last breath.”
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