Kill on Command (6 page)

“I’m calling the cops on you!” he mumbled, rolling on his back in agony. She stepped forward, directly over him, grabbing his head by the hair.  She leaned down.

“And what are you going to tell them?  You tried to assault me, but you got your ass kicked instead?  They will really like to hear that.  Oh, it will also go over big in jail,” she whispered.  “If I ever see you around here again, I will kill you.”  She slammed his head into the concrete, turned and continued to the duplex.

She cut across the yard and fished the keys out of her jeans.  Looking across the street she could see the huge boxer sitting at the window staring at her.  She loved dogs, but had a feeling this one did not like her.  The duplex used to be a grand old home like the Ippolito place across the street, but now was a moneymaking rental.  It had a huge porch, but now had two entrances.  Sandy rented the entire place, both units.  The landlord was especially excited when a beautiful six-foot woman showed up in his office offering to rent the place for two years.  He also liked that she paid all in cash, all up front. 

She opened the old oak door and went straight up the stairs to the living room.  The old stairs creaked.  She did not turn on the lights.  The bay window faced the front of Sean and Brian’s place across the street.  There was a couch and a couple of chairs in the room.  The items left on the wall were from the previous tenants.  Calling the furnishings sparse would have been generous.  The focal point of the room was a desk with an Apple Airbook.  On its screen was every room in Sean’s house.  Sandy’s iPhone looked like everyone else’s, but also contained an app that was not for sale on iTunes.  A tracker.  A tracker that tracked only one person.    She sat down at the table and stared at the computer, reached up and pulled the red wig off her head.  Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders.  She had gotten tired of dyeing her hair and had moved to wigs.  Good wigs.  Not the kind you buy downtown.

“I can’t wait for this to be over,” she said aloud. She looked at her fist and flexed it in and out.  She had an adrenalin buzz from the fight.

Rising, she walked over to the old brown couch, flopped down and looked over at the cheap table next to it.  On the table, was a single bulb lamp with a torn cream-colored shade.  She flipped on the lamp – its pitiful bulb produced little light.  A tattered paperback copy of
The Fountainhead
sat on the edge of the table.   She was trying to wade through it.  She had read it in college, but that had been a while ago.  She reached over and picked up the book, set it in her lap and flipped to the page where she had left off.  An old photo in the book served as her bookmark.  She picked up the photo and placed the book back on the coffee table. 

The picture was of her and her father in the shallow water off the coast of California.  He was in the water up to his waist and she was sitting on a surfboard.  She was seven.  Both of them were smiling broadly.  She had on a crazy rainbow one-piece bathing suit.  His hair was in his face from the waves.  Her wet hair looked like it had a little sand in it.  She could still remember the sunburn he got on his back that day.  He never complained to her.  She leaned back on the couch with the picture in her hand.  She remembered how she had begged him to teach her to surf.  Everyday she asked him. “This weekend?  This weekend?”

One day he surprised her with a board.  She remembers him attaching the board to the top of their old Honda Accord and driving down to the ocean.  He spent all day helping her learn how to get up on the board.  He was able to get another surfer to snap a picture of them.  They had dinner at the end of the day out of one of those wandering taco trucks.  She still remembered what she had - a chicken taco with extra tomatoes, cheese and sour cream.  It was one of her favorite pictures of the two of them. 

When her mother died during childbirth, her father dedicated his life to raising her.  Her father was there for her everyday of her life.  He was the “room mom” when she was in third grade and all the teachers had a crush on him.  He came to the plays, the games and was there to scare off the boys, something he excelled at. 

She sighed and thought about how things would have been different if she had just taken the scholarship to Cal to play water polo.  She never became a great surfer, but she could swim and she was strong.  She might have looked like her mother, but she was strong like her father. 

She also had his eyes. 

Ice blue. 

Piercing, ice blue.

She sprouted to nearly six feet tall by the time she was sixteen and crushed anyone that opposed her in the pool.  Cal had a great program and they really pursued her, but she wanted to go to Yale.  She wanted to come back to California after graduation and become a teacher and maybe a coach. 

The decision to go to Yale had changed her life.  It all happened so fast.  One day she was a regular student preparing to graduate, the next she was part of some deranged CIA boot camp.  It was not her choice.

She was now as far way from being a teacher as someone could get, with one way out, but to get there, everything had to fall into place for her and she was going to need some help.

She put the photo back in the book.

She thought about her assignment.  She remembered when she was like Sean.  She remembered how she loved to laugh and hang out with her friends.  She missed that. 

She doubted her friends would even recognize her now.   First, keeping up with Sean had her in the best shape of her life.  Second, could she even relate to them?  They had jobs now.  They had husbands.  They had kids. She could speak four languages.  She could fire any weapon put in her hand with accuracy that would make an Olympian jealous and kill anyone that opposed her with her bare hands. 

She closed her eyes.

She did not want to kill Sean.

But if she had to, not far on a tripod was a CheyTac 408 sniper rifle.  Overkill?  Perhaps.   Good from over 1400 meters.  Not that it needed to go that far.  It just needed to make it across the street.

She was a long way from the classroom now.

V

Sean’s Sister

Friday - Late

Sean was fading fast
and felt like he was going to fall asleep on the deck right there at Doc’s.  The trip across the Atlantic was finally getting to him, plus he was hungry.  He had his feet up on the chair across from him. 

“Sean, you should really get a pedi if you are going to wear sandals,” Stacy said staring at his feet.  “Gross.”

“Thanks for the advice.  I’ll pass.”

“Stacy, leave him alone,” Brian said.

“Brian, I am heading out.  I am beat.”  Sean stood up, downed the last of his beer and slapped Brian on the back.  He neglected to say anything to Stacy.  Across the deck, Bob saw him get up.

“He’s heading out.  Following,” Bob said, checking in with Sandy.  He put down his drink and followed a few steps behind.  Brian saw Bob a couple steps behind his friend, but thought nothing of it.  Everybody seemed to be in shape these days.  Even in Pittsburgh.

Sean walked down the stairs fighting the same crowds Sandy had an hour earlier.  It always seemed like the volume of the music jumped several decibels the later it got.  He stepped out onto Bellefonte and turned left. 

A yellow cab pulled up in front of Doc’s.  Two women, clearly over dressed, got out.

“Whoa! Look who just showed up!  The girls from the plane.  Our boy must have made an impression,” Bill exclaimed from his vantage point at Cappy’s.  Jennifer and her friend Ann paid the cab driver and walked into Doc’s as Sean rounded the corner.

“He just missed them.  Stay behind him,” Bill said, stood up and placed his beer on the table at Cappy’s.

Meanwhile, Sean was famished.  His caloric intake had tripled.  He knew the Pittsburgh Deli Company was still open.  He sprinted across Walnut Street, right in front of Cappy’s.

“Shit.  I don’t know where he’s going now.  He just crossed the street heading back the other way,” Bob said.  Bill saw Sean jog past the window.

“I have him,” Bill said, left Cappy’s and started down Walnut behind Sean.

Without warning Sandy came in over the radio, “Calm down.  He’s probably heading to the Pittsburgh Deli Company.  All he does is eat – you two should know that by now!”

Bob did not respond to her and walked back past Doc’s heading towards Copeland.

Sean turned left on Copeland and walked forty feet down the street to the Pittsburgh Deli Company.  The restaurant was located in an old brownstone.  Sean took the six or so steps up into the restaurant.  It really was just a counter and several two tops.  He ordered a Reuben off the hand-written board behind the counter, chips and a Coke.  He got it to go and left.

Via the tracker, Sandy watched his every step.

Sean walked the rest of the way home without stopping.  Bailey saw him when he entered the yard and greeted him at the door.  Bob and Bill were back in their Tahoe sitting on Pembroke waiting and watching.

Thrilled to see Sean, Bailey was jumping and bouncing around the room.  She smelled the sandwich.  Corned beef was a favorite.  Sean placed the bag and Coke on the coffee table. 

“Hey girl! Thanks for waiting up.”  He tried to pet her head but she was jumping wildly.

Sandy watched him from the laptop.

Sean flipped on the TV and opened up the sandwich.  Bailey sat at attention next to him.  He found a nice piece of corned beef without sauce and flipped it to Bailey.  She caught it in the air.  He finished the sandwich, shoved the bag into the empty Coke cup and then headed upstairs for some needed rest.  He pulled off his shirt and let his pants drop to the floor.  After brushing his teeth, he opened his window slightly.  Bailey jumped onto the bed and he followed her. 

“Good night girl.” 

He needed to crash.  After all, the next day was his triumphant return to the lacrosse field.

Back on Walnut Street, Jennifer and Ann wove their way through the crowd at Doc’s, finally making it to the roof.  Brian saw them before they saw him.

“Shit,” he said, as he started to stand.  Stacy looked at Jennifer and Ann as they approached the table. Both were knockouts.  Both dressed in black.  Ann was a blonde version of Jennifer.  Both did this thing with their eye make-up that drove every guy nuts.  Stacy instantly hated them both.  They both hugged Brian.  Now Stacy really hated them.

The guys in the bar took notice as well.

“We made it out!”  Jennifer exclaimed, looking around.  She realized she was over dressed but could not have cared less.

“You just missed Sean.  He headed home,” Brian said emphasizing “Sean.”

“Oh no!  I really wanted to see him,” she said.

“Feel free to swing by our place.  I am sure he’s just watching TV.”

“I don’t know . . . Is it far?”  Jennifer asked, while looking at Ann.  Ann was clearly not on board with it.

“Two blocks.  Here’s the address.  I will text him to let him know you two are coming over.  I am sure the bouncer downstairs will call you a cab,” Brian said, scribbling down the address on a napkin and handing it to her.

“Thank you Brian.”  Jennifer leaned over the table giving him a good show and kissed him on the cheek making, sure Stacy saw it and then turned and walked away.  Just like everyone else, Jennifer had taken an instant dislike to Stacy.

Brian sat back down.  Stacy’s eyes were glued to him, arms crossed.

“Sean met them on the plane,” he said, reaching for his beer and slouching in his chair.

“Well, duh.  He hasn’t changed.” 

“I met them when I picked him up at the airport.” 

“I am sure you did.  They seemed to remember you fondly,” she said with a good measure of nasty in her tone.

“I had my uniform on.  Chicks dig it.”  He smiled and reached for his cell to text Sean.

Brian:  Jennifer and a friend are on their way over.  Put Bailey in my room and get downstairs.  You can thank me later.

Sean never received the message.  He was in bed sound asleep next to a seventy-five pound Boxer.  His phone was downstairs between two seat cushions.

Sandy did receive the text however.  Her iPhone mirrored Sean’s.  She was not happy.

“Damn it.  I should have pushed her into traffic at the airport.”  She pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail, slipped on her running shoes, took a look at Sean sleeping and sprinted downstairs.

As Brian surmised, the bouncer was jumping through hoops for Jennifer and quickly got her a cab.

Sandy ran down her stairs and across her yard.  She paused at the street and ran across Brian and Sean’s yard to the front porch.  The porch was wide enough for a handful of chairs.  Two lights book-ended the front door.  A thick hedge butted up against the porch. 

“Bob, look. What the hell is she doing?” Bill said, as he nudged Bob.

“Hell if I know, and I am not asking.  Let’s see how it plays out.  Wait, she’s a blonde now?”

Sandy grabbed a stick that had fallen on the porch and smashed the bulbs.  The porch went dark.  Sandy found a chair and sat down.  She waited.

Upstairs, Bailey let out a low rumble.  “Quiet girl,” Sean said, half asleep.

Sandy did not have to wait long as a cab appeared at the corner of St. James and Pembroke.  It pulled onto St. James and stopped in front of Sean’s house.  Sandy could see two figures in the back seat. 

“Relax Ann.  I just want to say hi and I will come back out.  How do I look?”  Jennifer said to Ann.

“Sure, just say hi?  You look fine.  Hurry up.”

“Just wait here,” Jennifer said and started to step out of the cab.

“Well, I’ll be.  Bob, look who just got out of the cab.  The hottie from the plane.”  From Pembroke, Bill and Bob had full view of the house.

“This is going to be great.  I wish I had that laptop Sandy does – should be quite a show,” Bill said, leaning forward in his seat.

Jennifer shut the cab door, straightened her dress and started up the walk, her heels made a rhythmic clicking noise.  She climbed the three steps to the porch and walked to the door.  She hoped the lights would come on.  They didn’t.  The streetlights from St. James only produced creepy shadows.  She was reaching for the bell when a figure appeared from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Sandy said calmly walking towards Jennifer.  In heels, Jennifer was slightly taller than Sandy.

“Why?  I am Sean’s friend,” Jennifer said, obviously startled.

“I have never heard of you,” Sandy said positioning herself between Jennifer and the door.

“Who are you anyway?  Wait, do I know you?”  Jennifer asked, thinking she had seen Sandy before.

“His sister, Bailey and no you don’t.” Sandy smiled to herself.  She liked using the dog’s name.  She felt Bailey would do the same thing if she could.

“Well, I don’t care who you are,” Jennifer said, reaching for the bell.  With one quick motion Sandy grabbed a handful of black hair in her fist and pulled Jennifer’s ear towards her face.

“Look Jennifer.  Yes.  I know your name.  Here’s what you are going to do.  Get in the cab with your friend, go back to your hotel, put on that cute little uniform of yours and fly out of Pittsburgh.  If I ever see you again, I am going to grab one of those $300 shoes and cram it up your ass!  Do you understand me?” 

Terrified, Jennifer had tears running down her face, but she still nodded.  She stumbled as she ran back down the walk towards the cab.

Sandy disappeared back into the shadows.

“Let’s get out of here.  His sister is crazy!”  Jennifer yelled at Ann and the cab driver at the same time.

Across the street, Bill and Bob looked at each other.  They had seen the whole thing.

“She’s crazy,” Bob said.

“Shut up.  She has this truck bugged for all I know.”

Sandy watched the cab pull away and made her way across the yard, hugging the tall hedges that separated Sean’s house from the neighbor.  She raced across the street and leaped onto her porch in one jump. Entering the living room, she stood in front of her laptop with her hands on her hips. 

“All this ass-kicking is exhausting,” she said aloud.  She needed to relax.  Bill and Bob had eyes on the house. 

She walked back to the bathroom.  It was not nearly as nice a Sean’s.  One small window adjacent to the tub.  Basic sink.  Basic tub and toilet.  She reached behind her back and took out the Glock and put it on the windowsill.   She placed her phone next to it.  She pulled her shirt over her head and looked in the mirror.  A thin scar ran under her right breast, across her flat, muscular stomach and down to her waist.  She ran her finger over it and looked at herself again in the mirror.  She slid out of her shoes and jeans and looked at herself again.  Plain bra.  Plain white panties.  Plain. Plain.  Plain.  Guys like plain?  Guys like women like Jennifer?  She looked out of the bathroom at the laptop and at Sean sleeping soundly next to his dog.  Then she got in the shower.

Sandy emerged ten minutes later, toweled off and got dressed.  She pulled on a pair of Adidas capri length tights, fresh socks, a jogging bra and a sweatshirt. She had to be ready when Sean emerged.  She knew he was going to start working out as soon as he woke. 

She reached for the radio.

“I have the next three hours. Both of you get some rest.  We all need to be ready to go at 0500.  His routine will not change state side.  Don’t let the cop spot you.”