“Granny can have her big, spectacular finish, and when you pick up my head, I promise there’ll be a smile on my face. Please…you can do that for Granny, can’t you?”
He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it for Granny, I’m doing it for that crazy young girl who still seems to be on the loose.” He turned to the screen and began filling in the blanks on the contract. Method: client specified. On the line that followed he added the Description: Decapitation using a hand-held blade, e.g. sword or axe.
A few quick selections, dates filled in, signature block set up for imprinting, and the contract was finished. He showed it to her.
“I’m charging you extra for the Anne Boleyn routine, Granny, and I have to list the details. The lawyers seem to have some crazy idea that a dead client might sue us some day for doing some crazy thing the client didn’t authorize.”
“Fuck the lawyers,” Granny said. “But go ahead and list it. Maybe someday somebody will read it and say ‘Wow! That Granny sure was a crazy old gal, wasn’t she?’ Heh, heh…”
Fuck the lawyers…Lisa told me Moreno said the same thing this morning. Seems to be a trend here…
“As for the extra money, no problem. In fact—charge me twice as much. Just pretend I’m a nasty old rich bitch who wants to have everything her way. Oh, wait…I am a nasty old rich bitch. Oh, heck…just add another 50 percent to whatever you have there. You’ve gone out of your way to give me what I want, and three days from now, I won’t have any use for the money. My grandson’s getting more than he deserves, anyway.”
“Granny, I’m already charging you twice as much as usual because of the spectacular finish thing. Give the extra to charity if you like, or let your grandson feel guilty about getting it.”
He touched an icon and took the contract that immediately appeared in the tray, printed on the special paper that would take the imprint.
“Does this look OK to you?” He handed it to her, and she immediately handed it back.
“Of course it does. I don’t need the contract, anyway. Three days from now, I won’t care if it’s printed in Chinese. There’s one thing I thought of, though—you don’t need to put it in the contract, as long as you agree to do it. Your promise is good enough for me.”
“What is it, Granny?” He gave her a suspicious glance. “Is that crazy girl coming out again?”
“Well…maybe, sort of. I was just thinking. Anytime I’ve seen them chop somebody’s head off—in the movies, of course, never seen it done for real—they always whack ‘em from behind. I was sort of thinking I’d rather get it from the front. I want to see it coming. Is that gonna be a problem.”
He stared at her for a moment, then heaved another heavy sigh. “I’m sure it’ll be more difficult that way, but for you, Granny, I’ll figure out a way to do it.”
“You’re such a sweetie,” she told him with an angelic smile. “Now…where do I sign this thing, or spit on it, or whatever they do these days.”
He took her UID and ran the charges, which came back approved instantly. He explained how to imprint the contract itself, and she did so.
“That’s all there is to it, Granny. Will you have another drink before you leave?” He’d noticed her glass was empty again.
“Well, thank you Mark. I believe I will…”
Chapter Twelve
Grand Finale
Mark and Lisa went out of their way to avoid intimacy in the office. Conversely, they tried not to discuss business once they closed up shop for the day. Granny had left late in the afternoon, so they hadn’t really talked about the two contracts that were now pending. He’d told Lisa about Granny’s “spectacular finish” request, but like Lisa’s “biker party” scenario, they hadn’t figured out the details. Fortunately, they had nothing scheduled for the following day and had gone immediately to the conference room for a planning meeting.
They rarely had long meetings in their private offices. Those were mostly used for client or prospect meetings, and often for terminations. The visitor chairs facing their desks were designed to stop bullets and resist bloodstains, but no matter how well they cleaned them after the fact, neither Mark nor Lisa particularly liked sitting in them.
The executive chairs in the conference room were designed for comfort, not resistance to mayhem. Mark faced Lisa across the table, having just finished explaining Granny’s requirements.
“You see why I’m worried about this,” he said. “I think I need your help to get it done right. I told Granny I would probably need you to be there, and she’s got no problem with that. She said if you were up for it, you could hold the basket for her head to drop into.”
“She’s crazy!” Lisa declared. “From what you’ve told me, I think she’s as crazy as we are. When I walked her out, she winked at me and said she figured you and I were more than just business associates—said she heard it in your voice when you mentioned me. I wish I could get to know her better.”
“Yeah, so do I,” he agreed. “But we can’t—she’s a client, and we have to give her the Grand Finale she wants. I’ve been thinking I should probably use the katana. At least I’ve had some practice with it. I’ve got no experience at all with an axe, other than chopping wood.”
In fact, Mark had considerable experience with the traditional sword of the Japanese Samurai warrior. He was a ranked master of armed and unarmed martial arts and spent many of his Time-Out evenings at a local dojo, where he both worked on his own skills and served as an instructor.
He had a small dojo of his own on the lower floor of his apartment, and he’d tried to teach Lisa the basics, but neither of them seemed to be able to concentrate on the lessons and usually ended up having sex on the dojo mat.
“Good idea,” she said. “As sharp as that thing is, it should have no problem with Granny’s skinny neck.”
“Still takes a perfect stroke to do it right, but I can practice that. I’m more concerned with getting Granny in the right position and making sure she doesn’t move when she sees it coming.”
“Hmmm…yeah, I can see where that’s a problem, but I’ve got an idea. Suppose we put her in a chair—an armchair like this one. Come around behind me, and I’ll show you what I mean.”
He got up and came around the conference table, curious to see what she had in mind.
“Look,” she said, “these chairs tilt back, but only a little way. I’m thinking if we tie her ankles to the base and her wrists to the chair arms, we can kind of stretch her out the way you need her to be.”
She hooked her feet around the base of the chair and took a grip on the arms. “Now…grab my hair and pull my head back.”
Lisa had long blond hair, usually worn in a luxurious fall over her shoulders and down her back. But she had decided she liked Granny’s hairstyle and had convinced Mark to braid hers that way just this morning. He took hold of the full golden braid and pulled, gently but firmly. She allowed her head to be pulled backward, and the chair obediently tilted as far as it could. “See,” she said, “stretches me out and exposes my neck. I can’t move if my arms and legs are tied. So…eep!”
She let out a little squeak as the chair toppled backwards, but Mark was fast enough to catch her before her head hit the floor. The chair went all the way over, leaving her with her legs sticking up in the air, spread apart, with her skirt around her waist.
Mark helped her get back to her feet. “Nice panties,” he told her, patting her on the ass as she pulled the skirt back down.
“Yeah, well…so much for that idea.”
“No, it’s a good idea. For a second there, you had the position exactly right. We just have to make sure the base of the chair is secured to the floor. Probably want to have a chair with a lower back than this one—so her neck sticks out more.”
“I don’t want to take too much time getting Granny into position. We can have the arm and leg restraints already attached to the chair
. I can talk to her, keep her occupied, while you get her secured. It would have been nice if we could do it in my office, but I think we’ll have to do it in the x-room—need the higher ceiling to swing the sword.
“Anyway, you come around, grab hold of her hair—that braid works perfectly—and stretch her out, while I pick up the sword. One quick stroke, and it’s over.”
“Right…chair snaps back, and her head bonks me in the boobs. Goodbye, Granny. See how twisted I am? I’m actually thinking this is going to be fun.”
“Well, Granny thinks so, too, so I guess you’re no more twisted than she is.”
He looked at Lisa, who was now sitting on the edge of the conference table. “Damn…right now I’m wishing it wasn’t working hours. I’d like to jump your bones right here on the table.”
“I know…but let’s save it for tonight—and this time we’ll use my bed. I’m feeling athletic, and I need room for a good workout.”
He chuckled at that. Lisa’s huge master (mistress?) bedroom was a monument to hedonism, with a bed he called “the playground”—a supersized custom frame topped by a 12-foot square mattress, with an abundance of artistically arranged pillows. Mark had wondered why she needed a bed that big or that many pillows…until the first time he’d joined her in it.
“But for now…back to work,” she insisted. “Granny Finale…check. What’s next?”
“Biker party,” he reminded her, a sour look on his face. “How are we going to pull that one off?”
“Mark, you know the answer to that. I’m going to have to do it myself—solo. It’s going to be a wine, cheese, and sex threesome. I’ll be in the middle of it. They want to be whacked by surprise, and we lose that surprise as soon as you show up. They had fun teasing you when they were here, but you’re not invited to the pre-termination party.”
“Lisa…you’ll be naked, there are two of them, and they look pretty rough to me. Just the attitude when they came in here…”
“And they’ll be naked, too. No knives, no chains, and I’m not a delicate little flower. I’ve got some muscle under this lovely exterior. I can handle them.”
“Look,” she said, seeing the still-skeptical look on his face, “here’s what I’m thinking. We’ll set it up in the x-room, right under the balcony. It’s nice and cozy there, especially if the rest of the room is dark. You can watch it on the screens from the service room, so you’ll only be a few steps away if I need help—but please, don’t jump in unless I call for you. We can use a ‘trigger word’ so you’ll know if I need you.”
“Still doesn’t tell me how you plan to kill them—both of them, quickly, by surprise.”
“I’ve got some ideas, but we’ll have to do some staging and a couple of walk-throughs. The good news is we have nine days before they get here. First, we need to get set up for Granny on Friday.”
Granny arrived at 9:30 Friday morning, giving the hotel driver a tip that left him with a stunned look on his face. She was dressed in an elegant formal gown suitable for a high-society event. The slim, ankle-length dress was a deep sky blue, trimmed in silver that matched her hair.
“Figure if I’m going to go out like Anne Boleyn, I should at least be dressed like a queen,” she told Lisa as they walked across the foyer. “You’re going to be there for the show, aren’t you?”
“I’ll be right there in the middle of it. I’m going to make sure everything’s ready while you talk to Mark.”
“I am so excited…could hardly sleep last night, thinking about today.”
Do you know how weird that sounds? Lisa wondered. Excited…because we’re going to chop your head off?
She delivered Granny to Mark’s office, then hurried down the hall to the execution room. It was the largest open space in the building—40x40 feet with a 20-foot ceiling to accommodate the balcony and drop zone beneath it. As usual, they’d curtained everything off so the client only saw the area they would use today—a 20-foot square, with the chair in the middle. The rack holding the sword was against the wall, covered with a velvet drape.
They’d found an antique, low-back wooden chair that had almost a throne-like quality, with leather-covered padding and elaborately carved arms and legs. Carpeting concealed the sheet of plywood to which the chair was attached to keep it from being overturned.
Lisa made sure the arm and leg restraints were tucked away out of sight. She checked the area one more time, feeling the usual thrill she got from an impending kill.
I am so fucked up, she told herself for the thousandth time. We’re going to chop the head off an 88-year-old woman, and I’m excited about it. She turned as the door opened, and Mark led Granny into the room. The old lady was smiling, showing no hint of nervousness.
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “That’s a fancy chair. Is that for me?”
“A throne fit for a queen,” Mark told her. “Just have a seat, and we’ll get started.”
Granny sat as directed, and Lisa moved in to fasten her arms and legs. While she worked, Mark asked Granny if she’d gotten all of her arrangements made.
“Oh, yes,” she told him. “My grandson’s about to get a big surprise…along with a couple of other people I decided to give something to at the last minute. And my vineyard manager and his wife—they’ve been with me for many years, taking care of things while I’ve been out playing—they’re going to wake up tomorrow and discover that they own the vineyard, the winery, the whole works…heh, heh, heh. Bet they didn’t see that coming.”
Lisa got up, stepped back, and nodded to Mark.
“Well, Granny,” he said with a sigh. “This is it. Any last words?”
“Oh, just something for you two,” she told them. “Have a little party for Granny tonight. You’re a lovely couple, and I hope you keep going until you’re at least as old as I am.”
“Thank you, Granny…” Lisa leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll never forget you.”
With a tear in her eye, she stepped back and took hold of Granny’s braid. She looked up and nodded to Mark, who had already retrieved the sword. He nodded in turn.
Lisa pulled Granny’s head back, slowly but firmly, until the old woman was looking straight upward. Granny’s eyes went wide as she saw Mark raise the sword. Her mouth dropped open and she drew a long breath.
“Eeeeeeeeurk!!!!”
They would never know whether the sound Granny made was a squeal of delight or a shriek of terror, but it ended abruptly as the sword flashed downward and severed her head from her body.
Lisa stumbled backward. As predicted, the head bounced off her breasts, but she hadn’t expected the spray of arterial blood that drenched her from head to toe. Granny’s body came back upright, spraying more blood all over the area. Mark didn’t step back quickly enough to avoid being showered as well.
The shower ended as Granny’s heart stopped. By that time, the blue gown was almost totally red. Mark looked at Lisa.
“We did it…one quick stroke. I was worried.”
“I had faith in you,” she told him. “A hundred cantaloupes can’t be wrong.”
Mark had spent the previous two days practicing with the sword and had rigged up a target stand that held a cantaloupe in place at the level he expected Granny’s neck would be. He and Lisa would be eating the flavorful melons for weeks to come.
“Alas, poor Granny! I knew her well, Horatio…” Lisa struck a theatrical pose, gazing at Granny’s head held high in her right hand. Then she gathered it in and kissed it on the forehead once again, hugging it to her breasts.
“How did a dumb-ass ex-Marine like me ever get hooked up with a classical scholar?” Mark queried.
“A classical scholar who enjoys killing people,” she reminded him.
“Ah…that’s it!” he declared. “We really do have something in common.”
Chapter Thirteen
True Love
They spent the night in Lisa’s apartment. Neither felt like cooking, so they ordered pizza again. The order soon a
rrived on the balcony, delivered by a brightly colored drone, which departed as soon as they put in the code confirming delivery. Despite the plebeian meal, Lisa found a bottle of Chianti Classico Riserva in her wine cellar, and they toasted Granny’s life and spectacular finish.
Much of the pizza remained uneaten when their thoughts turned to other things, and they went into the bedroom to satisfy their passions in Lisa’s huge bed. An hour later—both of them nearly exhausted—they cuddled together in a nest of pillows near the center of the bed.
Without thinking about it, they’d taken the nesting spoons position—her favorite pose for relaxation after sex—and she lay quietly, feeling his breath in her hair, the warmth of his arm draped gently over her breasts.
“Mark…” she said quietly. “I…had a lot of fun today. Crazy to say it—we chopped somebody’s head off—but I had fun.”
“Granny was special,” he told her. “But you get a thrill out of it, no matter who the client is.”
“Yeah…I do, and that bothers me. It’s not just a thrill, its…erotic. I had an orgasm when Granny’s head hit my tits, and that wasn’t the first time. I had one when I dropped Lacrisha. She was fourteen years old—and she looked like she was a lot younger. Does that make me a pedophile?”
“She was dead, sweetheart. Nothing could hurt her at that point. I know you would never molest a living child.”
“Oh, great!…’no Lisa, you’re not a pedophile. You don’t molest kids; you just kill them. You get off on killing people.’
“Why do you put up with me? You never question anything I do. Have sex with clients, prospects—no problem. Recite Shakespeare while holding Granny’s head—no problem. Bring in Liz to play with—no problem.”
Neither Mark nor Lisa demanded (or even expected) exclusivity in their relationship. At the moment, Mark wasn’t seeing anyone else, but Lisa occasionally engaged the services of a high-priced, socially connected lesbian escort to, as she put it, ‘satisfy my flip side.’
The Ferryman Page 9
