by Jerry Bruce
There was but one more task to accomplish, one he did not relish. Even though he had killed so many times that he lost count, and even though he could look at a wall covered with his victim’s blood and not become the least bit squeamish, he didn’t look forward to doing what he was told must be done. In his view he was being asked to turn a “clean kill” into a freak show. It wasn’t right to abase his victim in such a manner, but his employer was insistent that he would not be compensated if he failed to fulfill the demands.
Reaching into the pocket of his overcoat, he withdrew the switchblade and in one fluid motion, slid the safety catch and pressed the button to release the sharply honed blade. Being careful to avoid getting any blood onto his clothing, he leaned over and faced his victim. Carefully—almost respectfully—tilting back the young man’s head, he began carving into the forehead the message he was told to leave.
* * *
Richard was thinking over what Ralph had just said. He unbuttoned all the buttons on his polo shirt as if it might relieve the pressure he was feeling at the base of his skull. He had a tension headache that no amount of scotch was going to relieve. After a minute of rotating his head in every conceivable direction and rubbing the back of his neck, he finally just sat still and looked at Ralph for a minute before finally speaking.
“Okay Ralph, bear with me while I assume the role of devil’s advocate. I don’t see how the media is going to make him change anything he is doing. He doesn’t have to answer to the public the way I did. He could care less what anyone thinks or does at this point.”
“It would be indirect pressure. People would force their governments to take action.”
“But what if the top men were under his control? They wouldn’t be able to do anything without putting themselves in danger.”
“They would be forced out of power. New people would be put in place who could take up the battle.”
“That could take years. Besides, aren’t you forgetting something, Ralph? The whole idea behind the water purification project was to put chemicals into widespread use that would turn the masses into uncaring, mindless zombies.”
“You said the effects were not permanent, that it required constant exposure to the chemicals to maintain the status quo. If the supply of chemicals was cut off and the water produced was pure, everyone would gradually come around.”
“So now we are posing the age old question of what comes first, the chicken or the egg. We need to get people off the chemicals, but we can’t get them off until they realize what has happened to them and force action to be taken, and they won’t realize that until they are off the chemicals. Don’t you see that it’s a vicious circle?”
“Look, I don’t claim to have all the answers. I only found out about this mess a few hours ago. You’ve had years to do something about it and couldn’t; I’m going to need a little more time than a few hours.” Blocker saw the look of hurt on Richard’s face and quickly reacted.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I wasn’t trying to be accusatory, I was just trying … .”
Richard raised his hand signaling Ralph to stop and interrupted him with “I know, I know. I think we’ve both had a long day and I for one am starving. Man cannot live on scotch alone, or something like that.”
“We can’t risk taking you out in public. I’ll call for some takeout. Chinese okay with you?”
“Fine.”
As Blocker went to the kitchen to call in the order, Richard turned toward him and verbally offered up something that had just popped into his head.
“You know, Ralph, you may actually be on to something. If we can disrupt the flow of the chemicals to those plants, we could start a cleansing process that just might make the rest of your plan feasible. We are going to have to figure out a way to do just that.”
* * *
It had been a long day—the kind of day where nothing goes according to plan. It was the kind of day that you wish would be over at noon, rather than midnight. Balancing her studies with her volunteer work was bad enough but now she had the added pressure of finalizing her dissertation before the fast approaching deadline. A warm bubble bath, a hot cup of tea, some soft music, and a long soak would do wonders to wash away the blues that the day had wrought. Making sure the CD player had an ample selection of soft instrumentals, she put up her waist long hair with several large hair clips to keep it dry and then poured an ample amount of herbal scent bath crystals into the slowly filling tub.
While she waited for the tub to fill, she went into the kitchen to turn off the whistling kettle and fix her pot of tea. She decided an Earl Grey would best satisfy her taste buds and placed two bags in the pot to brew. Carefully she carried the teapot, cup and saucer and placed them on a small table next to the bathtub. Finally, with the tub full, she removed her bathrobe and slipped down into the mountain of bubbles while filing away a mental reminder to use fewer crystals the next time.
She was so enjoying the bath that she lost track of time and let her cup of tea cool down more than she would have preferred. She drank the tea and poured a second cup from the antique pot that was comfortably nestled within a handmade cozy. This time she would remember to drink the tea before it cooled too much. Before settling back down into the suds, she leaned forward and turned on the hot water faucet. A little more hot water from the tap brought the tub back up to muscle soothing warmth, encouraging her to slip down to a point where the water was just touching her chin. She closed her eyes and let the music gradually slip her into a semiconscious state of total relaxation. She was too deeply engulfed in rapture to hear the slight click of the door latching after the unwelcome guest entered the apartment.
Seeing the thirty-something young lady on the street, resplendent in a charcoal gray pants suit, one would picture her sitting behind a desk conducting business for a bank, or maybe practicing law. But no one would ever imagine that this prim and proper lady would make her living by killing people.
Her businesslike appearance was the cloak that hid the turmoil that raged within. Who would have guessed that this seemingly all together woman was constantly battling the demons that lingered from an abusive childhood? So strong were the memories that they provided a constant supply of fuel for the killing machine that resided within.
Quietly opening the bathroom door just enough to peek in, she could see the bathtub and its occupant reflected in the long mirror over the twin basin countertop. Having previously removed her three-inch heeled pumps, she slid into the room without a sound and quickly, but silently, closed the door lest a draft send an alarm to her prey. Relieved that the door’s hinges didn’t reveal her presence, she only had to worry about her reflection in the mirror. Her victim, eyes closed and half asleep, never saw her murderer.
In one amazingly fast move, the assassin bent over her victim, grabbed her by the chin and back of the head, and with one powerful motion snapped her neck. The kill was instant but to make sure, she pushed her victim’s head under the water and held it there for several minutes.
It was now time to complete the contract. She took a small pocketknife from her coat pocket and finding her gloved fingers incapable of extracting the blade, used her teeth to pull the blade out enough for her fingers to finish the job. Pulling her victim’s head from the water and turning the lifeless face toward her own, she proceeded to carve.
Her work finished, and with the young lady’s body motionless among the bubbles, she examined the bathroom making sure there was nothing left behind that could lead back to her. Proceeding to the living room, she repeated the process. She was proud of her ability to take a mental picture of her surroundings in a fraction of a second and remember every detail. Once she put her shoes back on and picked up her purse, the scene was as it was when she entered the apartment. She had never left a single clue on any of her past assignments and this would be no exception. Once assured that there was no shred of evidence left behind, she peered through the peephole and then opene
d the door and checked the hallway. Not seeing anyone, she left the apartment, locking the door behind her. Avoiding the elevator, she once again took the stairs at the end of the hallway. Pausing on the landing, she quickly removed the hairnet that she put on moments before entering the girl’s apartment. Her long blond hair spilled down slightly over her shoulders. Then she pulled off the chic kidskin gloves and wrapped them in the hairnet before placing the neat bundle in her handbag. No fingerprints, no hair—nothing left behind to identify her.
* * *
Richard stood out of eyeshot of the open door while Ralph paid the deliveryman for their dinner. Seated at the dining room table, Ralph opened the two large brown bags and carefully removed the contents, one container at a time, placing half in front of Richard.
“I know we’re both famished, but my God Ralph, you’ve ordered enough food for a small army.”
“Hey maybe I’m planning ahead. This can take care of your lunch for the rest of the week!”
“Great, so you’re trying to get me to build an aversion to Chinese food?”
“Quit complaining and pass the shrimp.”
“Say Ralph, I’ve been thinking about your idea of using the power of the media. Basically I think it has merit; though there are a few aspects of the plan that I think we need to rethink.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I am fairly certain that the Controller has some exposure to the media himself. I was thinking back, many years back, about when I first ran for the United States presidency. There was reason for us to believe that some of the media was overly supportive of our platform. At the time we merely chalked it up to good fortune—now I’m not so sure.”
“Do you remember who in the media were behind you?”
“I’ve been trying to get a handle on that. Maybe Christine can shed some light on the matter. We’ll have to discuss it with her. In fact, after we finish dinner, I’ll give her a call. There are several things I want to discuss with her.”
“I’ll bet there are.” Blocker was wearing a sly grin.
* * *
The stately manor house was bathed in the glow of the pathway and floodlights that dotted the property and illuminated the landscaping. Activated by sensors, the lights would remain on until dawn. Since each of the home’s downstairs rooms had motion sensitive light switches, the only interior light emanated from the kitchen where the lady of the house was rinsing off her dinner dishes. Once she finished and started for her upstairs master bedroom suite, each room would be lit and then within minutes, darkened as she passed through.
As she entered the master bedroom, she pressed the touch sensitive switch that turned on the matching lamps, each one atop an antique nightstand. Her fingers unbuttoned her housecoat as she walked toward the cavernous walk-in closet with its rows of cedar-lined drawers. Opening the double doors turned on the recessed lights in the closet’s ceiling. The color corrected bulbs made sure that it would be obvious one was selecting a navy blue rather than a black blouse. The T shaped closet had rods for hanging long dresses on the left for madam and over and under rods for sir’s shirts on the right. At each end was a floor to ceiling mirror to aid in the dressing process. It wasn’t until she faced her mirror that she saw the reflection of a ghostly figure hiding at the opposite end. She spun to face the apparition trying all the while to make sense of what she was seeing. At first all she could make out was the shape of a bulky man-like outline, then the shape turned into something familiar—a man inside a full body suit of thin vinyl material. It took her only a second or two to focus on the eyes behind the plastic facemask. They were as cold and steely as the blade that suddenly flashed into her line of sight. Before she could let out the scream she felt building within her, the knife had slashed her hand, forcing it out of the way on its forward path. The blade cut so deeply into her throat that her spine was the only obstacle preventing the keen edge of the knife from completely severing her head. Blood flowed profusely from the gaping wound, spurting from the caratoid artery as the heart pounded out its last few beats and the woman fell toward her assailant. The assassin forcefully pushed his victim off of him sending her backward into a heavy crash onto the hardwood floor. A final twitch of her foot told him she was dead. Without a second thought, he proceeded to carve out the calling card he was told to leave.
Having completed his gruesome task, he took his canvas bag from its hiding place in the corner of the closet and went into the bedroom. Not caring that he was leaving bloody footprints on the carpet, he placed the murder weapon in the bag and took off the environmental suit that covered him from head to toe. Folding it in upon itself and exercising great care to avoid getting blood on himself, he stashed the suit in the bag and zipped it shut. After nearly an hour of waiting, unable to move lest he trigger the light sensors, it felt wonderful to be able to move freely about. He made a promise to himself that he would immediately go to the nearest park and jog around to stretch his legs, but only after he made the call.
* * *
“Three confirming phone calls, three different assassins, three different victims, and most importantly, three successes; how I love it when my plans run like clockwork. If my team of murderers were careful, the police will have no clues to help them solve the crimes. They won’t know whether it was one, two or three assassins. They say it’s impossible to pull off the perfect crime. Little do they know.” The heinous laugh rang out through the barely lit room. “Little do they know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Richard sat forlornly on the sofa watching the non-stop news on one of the cable channels. Even though most hours were comprised of repeating the major stories, occasionally there was a new piece.
He watched in anticipation of any news that could get him enthralled in anything other than the same endless boredom that was his life of late. At least he wouldn’t have to wait long for some company. In a few minutes Blocker would be home and they were having Christine and Adam over for dinner and some discussion of Blocker’s plan.
He had taken special care to make sure he was properly groomed, more so than he normally did when it was just him and Ralph. Tonight was different; Christine was going to be there. He didn’t see as much of her as he would have liked, so he took extra measures to make sure he presented the best picture possible.
As Richard went over to the bar to make a drink, his first of the day, the door opened and Ralph appeared from around the corner of the wall separating the entryway from the kitchen.
Richard saw Ralph flash a quick glance at the glass of scotch and before Ralph could say anything, Richard jumped in with, “Don’t worry; this is my first drink today. I told you I was cutting back and I meant it. Can I fix you one?”
“I wasn’t going to say anything … much. Yes, thank you, I could use a stiff one.”
“Didn’t go well today, I take it?”
“You don’t know the half of it. I’ll fill you in after the others get here. Let it suffice to say that some of my news is good, but most of it is bad. On another note, I hope Adam isn’t bringing Chinese food tonight.”
“I specifically told him anything but Chinese. He has a passion for Italian so that’s probably what we will be having.”
Richard made Ralph a drink while he was changing into more comfortable clothes, shedding the coat and tie that he was forced to wear should there be a breaking news item that would put him on camera. There were a lot of those since the Richard Sinclair abduction story broke and even though Ralph disliked the idea of always “dressing for success,” he had to admit that he was enjoying the limelight. He could hardly walk in public without being stopped and asked for his opinion on whatever the topic of the day might be.
“So you’re just going to leave me hanging until everyone else gets here, huh?” Richard handed Ralph the drink and took a seat in one of the easy chairs.
“Yeah, no sense in repeating everything twice. Besides there isn’t anything you could take immediate action on a
nyway.”
Ralph plopped down heavily onto the sofa and immediately sank down so that his weary head could fall back and rest on the top cushion. The timing was right for him to relax as he could feel a tension headache coming on. It seemed like he and Richard alternated having these pains. The Controller was literally a pain in the neck to them both.
Richard glanced at the mantle clock and noticed that it was six o’clock. Christine and Adam should arrive any minute.
Almost as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Richard rose saying, “I’ll get it.”
Richard peered through the peephole and saw Christine’s smiling face. After letting her in, he grabbed her and passionately kissed her.
“I’m going to have to make it over here more often.” She gave him a come hither look over her shoulder as she entered the living room.
“Hi, Christine.” Excuse me for not getting up, but I don’t think anything short of someone yelling ‘fire’ is going to get me to budge.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ralph; you do look a little frazzled. Bad day, huh?”
“You could say that. Where’s Adam, I’m starving.”
Christine sat in the easy chair that Richard had been using, forcing him to pick up his drink and move to the other chair.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll wait and have a glass of wine with dinner.”
Before Richard could sit down again, the doorbell chimed.
Richard let Adam in and helped him with the bags of take out. Richard put the bags on the dining room table, which he had set earlier.
Ralph jumped up a little rejuvenated, “Great, let’s eat!”
“Someone must be hungry” Adam gave Ralph a disdainful look. “Mind if I make myself a drink first?”
“Go right ahead, I’ll just open up the containers.”
“I’ll pour the wine. What would everyone like?” Richard looked at Christine first.
