101 People to Kill Before I Die

by Anthony O'Connor

  Having finished my preparation, I then sat on the couch with Natasha and we watched a couple of movies together. She snuggled up next to me on the sofa. She tucked herself under my right arm and moved my hand down until it was lightly cupping her right breast. She was still wearing the same pink panties as before. She refused to change into anything else. The hotel had movies on demand so I opted first for 'True Romance.' One of my personal favorites. Natasha had never seen it before. But she clearly enjoyed it. When we got to the scene where Clarence and Alabama were banging in the phone box, on the side of the highway, with the truck going by, I made the point.

  "Man wasn't Patricia Arquette so beautiful back then? Not so much now."

  Natasha scowled and gave me a light smack across the cheek.

  "Everybody grows older, asshole."

  I smiled darkly. Thinking to myself,

  “Not everyone darling.”

  The movie had a nice enough ending for her. She didn't like it when they ended badly. Which was sad in a way, for the obvious reason.

  After ‘True Romance’ we watched ‘Jackie Brown’ and then ‘Pulp Fiction’, not talking much most of the way through. ‘Reservoir Dogs’ wasn’t available, which was annoying. After the third movie, she turned towards me and asked simply,

  "What are we going to do?"

  I replied,

  "About what?"

  She tried to laugh about it. But she was clearly frightened.

  "The Russian gangsters."

  I held her more tightly.

  "Don’t worry about it. We'll just stay out of their way. And they're after me now just as much as they're after you."

  She seemed reassured. But then she asked,

  "But they don't know who you are? Do they?"

  I decided not to tell her about the encounter earlier that morning. I did say to her,

  "They have resources. They'll find out. But don’t worry. We'll stick together. They'll never catch us."

  She giggled. Exclaiming,

  "We'll be like Bonny and Clyde."

  I smiled. Pointed out the obvious.

  "Not such a great example. That one didn’t end so well."

  She looked glum for just a moment.

  "No. I suppose not."

  I reassured her again,

  "We'll be fine."

  We sat there quietly for a while. I got up and returned with a bottle of red wine, some Merlot. We had a couple of glasses each. Sitting there. Not saying anything. After some time, Natasha broke the silence.

  "What about us?"

  I replied,

  "Huh."

  Not the most intelligent answer to that question. She asked again,

  "You know."

  I scrambled for an answer. I can honestly say I hadn't given it a moment’s thought. But I couldn’t say that to her.

  "Well, I, um, I have some business to finish here in Melbourne. Then, ah, we can go out into the country. Find a nice place."

  She chose not to notice my hesitation. She asked,

  "So why do you have a gun? Are you a cop?"

  I didn’t have a ready answer for that one either, I just said,

  "Ah. No. Not exactly."

  I couldn't tell her the truth just then and somehow, I never got around to it. I knew that I was being an asshole. And that was putting it very fucking mildly. But what could I have said. Well Natasha, actually I'm dying of cancer. I'll be dead in six months, or so close to death it won’t fucking matter much after that. Oh, and yes, I've decided to devote my last few active months to a homicidal killing spree. I've made a list. That's just the kind of person I am. But if you want to stick around, and fuck a lot. Keep me company. Well that would be nice too.

  She looked at me and smiled deeply.

  "Don't tell me. I don’t care. My life is shit anyway. And now people are trying to kill me. Cops after me. But you're nice. I like you. Let's just hang out. See where it goes."

  I replied simply,

  "OK. Good."

  She looked at me seductively, moved her body in closer to me, and exclaimed with a bit of a giggle and a wry mischievous grin,

  "Besides, you have an exceptionally large penis, and a girl has her needs."

  She moved in to kiss me, and started gently stroking me through my trousers. God the woman was insatiable. We moved back to the bed. This time I took my time with her, pleasuring her thoroughly. Though to be honest it didn’t take much to have her howling out in ecstasy. She was definitely a screamer. When we finished an hour or two later we lay there beside each other just staring at the roof. Happy. Just for the moment.

  To tell you the truth I was already growing quite fond of her and wanted to keep her around. I just couldn’t fit this in, in any way, with my other preoccupation. Didn’t know how I ever could. I could have told her I was dying at least. But I never did that either. Fuck, so what. Everything in this world is fleeting and temporary. But I should have told her. Oh well, we would just see what happens. She’d said this herself. It was late. I was tired. My thoughts started wandering.

  It occurred to me that staying together was one thing, but there was no way I could ever keep up with her sexually. She was a fucking nymphomaniac. The thought of her straying and getting fucked by anyone else was already a bit disconcerting to me. I could always put her into a chastity belt. There was one on sale at a BDSM shop in Little Flinders Street just across the Yarra river. I’d seen it in the window when I passed the shop earlier in the day. It wasn’t that expensive. Just a few hundred dollars. I could just see the little minx whimpering and pleading as I put it on her and turned the key, locking her in place. Quite an appealing image really. I laughed, smiled broadly and then drifted off into sleep.

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  Boris and Vadim had wandered aimlessly around the hotel complex after losing Brian. Finally, they gave up and returned to their suite. Brian was just returning to his rooms as they came out of the elevator on the seventh floor. Boris and Vadim saw a door close as they came out - suite 725, just across the hall from their own. But they had no way of knowing it was Brian. They went inside their suite, 712 on the right, sat down on couches facing each other and stared at each other. They didn’t know what to do. They couldn't contact Dmitri Alexandrovistch. They couldn't contact Jack Williams - because he'd be in with Alexandrovistch by now. They felt that as a matter of principle they should certainly kill the asshole who shot Constantine but they didn’t even know his name. How could they have run into him this morning? An amazing coincidence. Unless he was also staying at the hotel. That gave them something to work on. Obviously, they were still going to shoot the girl, Natasha Brown. But none of this was going to do them any good. They knew they could never go home again. They weren't too concerned about their current location. The local authorities had no links to them - hopefully no video. They did have Constantine's body. But all the fake IDs were solid - the best that money could buy. It would take a long time for the authorities to link Constantine to the hotel. It would all be over long before that.

  Vadim moaned out loud,

  "We're fucked, we are so fucked. Never should have agreed to take that little prick along with us."

  Boris scowled at him,

  "As if we had any fucking choice in the matter."

  Vadim responded harshly,

  "That asshole didn’t give him the slightest chance. Broke his elbow, then shot him in the fucking head. Twice."

  Boris almost smiled. He said,

  "It was nicely done though."

  Vadim replied, also with a bit of a smile,

  "Can’t disagree with that. Very fucking nicely done. And that little prick had it coming."

  Boris agreed.

  "No doubt. Come to think of it I wish I'd done him myself. Got some satisfaction at least, and we wouldn’t be any more fucked than we are now."

  Vadim nodded.

  “Yep. Me too. Would have been good.”

  While they were compl
aining about the vicissitudes of fate, Boris's phone rang. It was Mr. Alexandrovistch. Boris was very surprised. He held the phone extremely cautiously, as if Dimitri Alexandrovistch could reach through the phone with his arm and rip Boris's throat out - which he certainly would have if he could have. Boris replied, slowly and carefully,

  "Yes."

  Dmitri Alexandrovistch spoke in a deep harsh tone, dripping with menace,

  "You two assholes are in deep, deep shit."

  Boris didn’t reply, just waited. Dmitri continued speaking, attempting without much success to switch to a less menacing demeanor.

  "But look, we can get past this."

  Said the wolf to the bunny, thought Boris. Dmitri's attempt at a change in tone was not at all convincing. Dmitri was still talking.

  "I'll get Jack Williams to give you a call. Work with him. He knows a lot already. The shooter's name is Brian Samuals, he's ex-army and an ex-cop, did some time. You know about the girl, Natasha Brown. Williams will send you all the details." He paused. "Look, kill both of them, that's what you're good at. And then, maybe we can work something out. Be quick though, the local authorities will find you soon enough. Williams says they don’t yet know who you are but it won’t take long."

  Boris replied simply,

  "OK."

  Alexandrovistch hung up.

  Vadim had been close enough to hear the details. He observed wryly,

  "Good thing we disabled GPS on our phones. They'd be kicking the doors in already."

  Boris seemed confused.

  "Who? Alexandrovistch said the local authorities haven’t identified us yet?"

  Vadim shrugged.

  "Williams and his gang. His private thugs."

  Boris replied,

  "Oh them ... we can handle them."

  Vadim snarled,

  "Probably. But Alexandrovistch is going to fucking kill us anyway, no matter what we do."

  Boris agreed with him,

  "Of course, goes without saying. He's probably already dispatched Svetlana Araknilova and some backup, not that she needs it. Always knew we'd go up against her sooner or later."

  Vadim broke into a smile, he seemed suddenly lost in some instantly overwhelming fantasy. Boris groaned,

  "Oh, for fuck's sake. You do not want to be on the receiving end of that fucking psychotic bitch."

  Vadim continued smiling. Boris growled at him again,

  "You really don't."

  Boris gave up. He said,

  "All right whatever ... we'll lay low until we hear from Jack Williams. Then we'll kill Brian and Natasha. And then escape somewhere. Anywhere."

  Vadim agreed. What else could they do? Boris turned and walked off into the bathroom.

  When Boris returned, Vadim was already watching some live streaming porn, settling in, his beady little eyes glued to the screen. Boris glanced at it. Tits and ass, moans and groans. But all so fake. He found anything short of the real thing just too perverse and basically boring. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase, a whiff of romance. Of course, you didn’t get that either when you paid for it - but from time to time, needs must. He saw Vadim reach down with his right hand to scratch his balls, his right hand lingering there just a little longer than it should have. Boris growled at him,

  "If you start jerking off, I swear, I'm gonna shoot you in the fucking head."

  Chapter 8. An Accidental Assassination.

  I got to Uncle Charlie's place at about 10:00 AM on Friday morning. I would have got there earlier but Natasha way-laid me in the shower. There is no fucking limit to that girl's sexual appetite. I didn’t want to do anything myself. I wanted to save it up for later that night when I'd have something to really celebrate. The longer the time between, the better it is, everyone knows that. And I'd been getting it pretty fucking frequently lately. There had been an undeniable impact on performance and on affect. Anyway, so I just went down on her for an hour or so. Oral pleasuring. Cunnilingus! Who the fuck started calling it that? What a ridiculous word!

  The clitoris! The little nub of flesh that would have been a dick but for a few genetic switches here and there during the developmental self-assembly phase. But it’s so much more than just a failed penis. And not at all superfluous. It is an exquisitely delicate pleasure center that keeps females interested in the act and therefore absolutely essential. The whole area around and underneath is thickly laced with nerves making it extremely sensitive. If you insert a finger or two into the vagina and rub the area gently from underneath while softly licking the clit at the same time it drives them fucking nuts. Be careful. They’ll probably ejaculate on your face. But then again, so what. Part of the fun.

  Women apparently get far more pleasure from the clitoris than through vaginal penetration. A lot more! Who knew? I didn’t. For years, no fucking idea. No-one told me, until Beatrice brought it up one evening a couple of years after we were married. Go figure! Bit of a design stuff up there. A small but significant separation between what we really want and what they really want. So as eager as you are to just put your dick in and start thrusting you need to mix it up a bit if you want her to keep coming back and to keep spreading her legs for you. You get used to the taste and the smell. It takes a bit of patience and some time to learn how to do it properly. But it's worth it. Keeps them happy. Why not? I don’t know why more men haven't mastered the art. Natasha had several orgasms and when I left was purring contentedly.

  I drove to St Kilda and parked outside Uncle Charlie's house on Henry Street. I’d never been to this place before. He moved in just eight months ago from Frankston. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year - except for our very brief meeting at the Men's Club. I lived with Charlie in his house in Maffra for my last two years of high school after my parents and younger brother were killed in a car crash. Him and his first wife Georgina. She was all right. I liked her. But she died, a long time ago. Charlie was only ten years older than me so I’d known him my entire life. We’d practically grown up together. He became my legal guardian until I was eighteen. We were close. We’d always been the best of mates.

  Charlie and his second wife Wendy met me at the door. It was going to be great seeing Charlie again. Wendy, not so much. She's a bit of a bitch, always has been. And that’s putting it very fucking mildly. Charlie and I talked for a couple of hours, catching up on everything. I drank some coffee. He had a beer but he didn’t offer me one. He could tell just by looking at me that I was planning to do an op that afternoon and knew that I wouldn’t want it. Always the professional. Actually, I wouldn't have minded one but I wasn't going to ask. It mattered to me a great deal what Charlie thought of me. I didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought.

  Charlie and I served in the army together. Well not together exactly. I joined the infantry at eighteen and went straight off for basic training. He was already an infantry lieutenant. A few years later he was promoted to captain and joined the SAS - the elite Special Air Services regiment based in Perth. Not long after that I tried out for the SAS myself. But I failed the selection. I passed all the physical stuff OK, but I failed the psych testing. They told me that I had a bit too much of a temper, might be a problem. Yeah, well, I fucking knew that already, didn’t I. Fucking morons. So why did they waste my time with the physical testing? It wasn’t that easy. Assholes.

  I saw him a couple of times when I was serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. I was a sergeant by then. We met in some of the camps around Bagdad and Kabul. They would just come and go, blow in and blow out. The SAS guys didn’t wear uniforms or insignias of rank. They liked to just blend in. But we all knew who they were. Uncle Charlie never talked to me about what they did. Of course he didn't. But it’s on the public record that they were doing long range recon - hundreds of miles at a time, often way behind enemy lines. What's not on the public record? Who knows? Capturing and killing high value targets, laser targeting munitions depots, generally blowing shit up, killing whatever assholes needed killing. A whole lot more fun than the cr
ap we were all usually assigned to.

  Charlie had a lot of trouble fitting back into civilian life after he'd finished with the army. Couldn’t get a job anywhere. I went into the Victorian Police Force, but he didn’t want that for himself. He was sick of hierarchies and command structures, orders and discipline. After a few false starts he got a business going selling weapons. He had some good connections, an expert knowledge of the merchandise and he developed quite a flair for dealing with customers. Tough but honest. He became known as a reliable supplier in the relevant communities. All of this was highly illegal. In his second year of operations, he got caught and went down for a year. But they could only get him for possession. The judge was lenient given his years of military service. He kept his mouth shut and this was duly noted by his suppliers, and the customers too. When he got out, business was quickly booming again. And now he was more cautious than ever.