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Authors: Leslie Langtry

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BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy
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—The Assassination Bureau
 
 
Dela and Cali run the island and handle the occasional South American job. The most interesting member of that family is my cousin Missi. If Richie was my nemesis, then Missi was my favorite relative (except for Liv, of course).
You know those wacky people you come across every now and then? The really colorful kind who don’t care what others think? That was Missi. A little older than me, but also widowed with two sons, Missi cracked me up.
I’m sure you’ve seen the James Bond movies, the ones with Q, who’s the inventor of 007’s lethal gadgets. Missi is our Q. When she wasn’t using poison frog darts on a Peruvian terrorist or some corrupt Colombian official, she was here at Santa Muerta, coming up with some really cool stuff.
Let’s see, what had she come up with that I could tell you about? Well, there was the special car bomb that ignited through the cigarette lighter. That had been cool because the authorities didn’t catch it, and a major auto manufacturer recalled 100,000 cars thinking the explosion was their fault. One of my favorites was the remote-control icicle release mechanism. It might not sound like much, but she could actually create, then release, lethal icicles into the unsuspecting skull of a target. All the police would find was a wet spot. Brilliant!
“Monkeypops,” I said into the small speaker outside Missi’s workshop. The door sprang open and in I went. Did I mention her love of unusual passwords?
“Ginny!” Missi rose from her seat to hug me. Her magnifying goggles were still on her face, giving her a weird, eye-bulging effect.
“How are you? And Monty and Jack?” I asked.
“Hell as usual. Monty made his first kill last week.” She moved to wipe away a nostalgic tear. “I can’t believe it.”
“They’re fifteen already?” I couldn’t believe it either. Had it been that long since I’d seen her?
Missi nodded, then pushed a stool toward me. I sat, and we caught up on what was going on.
Her workshop was one of my favorite places on earth. Unlike my sterile place, Missi filled every inch with really weird stuff. Sometimes I thought she spent her free time Dumpster diving in Chile. But everything there made sense to her. I guess that was what counted.
“So what’s new?” I asked, hardly able to contain myself.
She smiled slowly. “What do you want?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any harmless nerve agent,” (that I could use on, say, a Girl Scout troop?) “or something like that?”
Missi rolled her eyes. “Harmless? Hello! Assassin.” She looked around the room. “Mostly I’ve been working on stuff for the new line.”
My eyebrows shot up. “New line?”
She nodded. “The Council’s asked me to look into another avenue of work for the family. It could be more lucrative.”
“What are you talking about? We kill people. Or are we going to sell Amway now?”
“Actually, nothing as horrible as that. I’m working on some tech stuff to develop character assassination.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope,” she replied, “and I think it’s gonna be big. Probably a fate worse than death, if you think about it.”
“Huh.” But you know what? Living with a horrible scandal and spending the rest of your life being punished for a crime actually did sound worse.
“The Council’s really excited about it.”
I sat up. “Hey! Is that why we’re meeting so early?” Yay! That was it! No one ... well, in the family, anyway ... bites it!
“No. That’s not it.” Missi shot me down. “We’re about two years away from getting everyone started with this.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Well, then what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know,” Missi said, looking wistful. “No one tells me anything. It’s always, ‘Missi, can you come up with a hairdryer to incinerate my hit?’ or ‘I need another contact lens case that shoots the poisonous needles into the eyes.’ They only come to me when they want something.”
“You made a hairdryer that incinerates the user?” I was stunned. This family needed a newsletter or something because that was way cool.
Missi waved me off. “It was nothing. You just have to get the heat right.”
I sighed. “All right, so you don’t know anything.”
She grinned at me. “Nope. But I do have a surprise for you.” She crooked her finger and rose from her stool. I followed her out into the garden to a patch of lilies. My love of botany made me giddy with expectation.
“There they are!” She pointed proudly. The white lilies were gorgeous, but what was the deal?
“I’ve seen white lilies before. What can they do?”
She actually rolled her eyes at me. “Not like these, you haven’t. I don’t have to tell you how plants take carbon dioxide from the air and turn it into oxygen.”
Now I rolled my eyes. “Duh.”
“Well, this will give FTD a run for its money. These babies do the reverse. They emit a gas to stun the Vic, then suck oxygen from the air and turn it into carbon dioxide.”
I felt like she’d slapped me. “Are you serious?”
She nodded proudly. “I’ve been working on it for years. I’ve managed to come up with the perfect hybrid. All you do is pot several of these together and deliver them. Of course, they have to be inside to work effectively.”
My excitement waned a bit. “So, how do you know they’ll work?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Gin! I tried it! It can take out a man in a small apartment in a couple of days.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know who she tried it on, but I was really thrilled over this. Unfortunately, it would never make
Botany Today Magazine
for, well, obvious reasons. Missi’s genius would once more go unrecognized by the rest of the world.
“Can we send some of these to Richie’s room?” I asked, only slightly joking.
“I wish,” Missi said, “but I don’t want him to know I even have this stuff.” She shuddered. “In fact, I always hope he forgets I’m here. That dumb-ass takes credit for my gadgets. Remember the personal groomer debacle?”
Did I ever. Missi had created a nose-hair trimmer that when activated, fired a laser into the victim’s skull via the nasal passages. Richie told the Council he invented it. Only he set the frequency too high and it blew Vic’s head clean off. When he learned the Council was pissed about it, he recanted and pointed the finger at Missi. See? I wasn’t the only one who hated the son of a bitch.
I looked around. “You’re still working on the Richinator, right?”
Missi nodded and grinned. Her dream invention would take Richie out completely during a hit. There were hundreds of prototypes, but nothing satisfactory yet. I
lived
for that day.
“Have you seen him yet?”
“No. Hey! Maybe he won’t come and I can hunt him down or something.”
Missi shot me a look. “Do you really want to get that close to him?”
We laughed and spent another hour talking about work. When I left her workshop, I had this renewed sense of purpose. Missi always motivated me.
“Family meeting at four,” Liv told me as I walked into our rooms.
“Already?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, they always did this. First comes registration and an ice-breaker, then keynote dinner and chocolate reception. At least we didn’t have to wear name tags.
Tomorrow would be our individual evaluations with the Council, and the last day would be all about the rituals. Alta and Romi would have a sitter tonight—kids were excluded because they were usually bored to death. They would be involved in the ritual, then Liv and I would have our bungalow slumber party and we’d all go home.
At three-thirty, Luis arrived to baby-sit, and Liv and I went down to the conference center to check in. Mom and Uncle Pete were running the registration table. That meant Dak and Woody were around somewhere.
“Dad!” Liv called out. “Where’s Woody?”
Uncle Pete winked at her. “Dak took him up to your room. We just got in, and Mom stuck us with this job.”
My mother looked less enthusiastic. “I think we did this last time too.” She handed me a large brown envelope. “Ginny, your meeting time with the Council is nine a.m. tomorrow. You won’t be late, will you?” Her eyes were full of worry.
“Mom! I’m almost forty! Quit treating me like a kid!” I spun on my heel and walked away. You might think this was some big act of defiance, but in reality, we went through this ritual once a week.
“You know what?” Liv said once we were settled in our seats in the auditorium. We always tried to sit in the back. Actually, everyone tried to sit in the back. No one wanted anyone behind them in this room. “It feels like we were just here.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s only been a year since the last meeting.”
Liv looked at me for a moment. “That must be it.”
The room filled up quickly, with most of my relatives sitting near immediate family. Mom, Pete, Dak and Paris slipped into the seats we’d been saving for them.
The Council assembled on the stage at a long table. Grandma was flanked by Lou on the left and Dela on the right. Her cousins, Troy and Florence, represented the European branch of the family and sat farther down. All I could think was that they looked old.
I wondered how long it would be before Mom and Pete joined their cousins to form the Council. Now that would be creepy. I’m not going to let Mom slide with any of that Council secrecy bullshit either.
Everyone in the room stood up to identify themselves, but we knew everybody already. Then came announcements. No icebreaker—which I was happy with because it was idiotic, and there was an announcement that the ropes course was being repaired.
Hey! I might actually enjoy this trip!
Once again we were reminded to go inside from four p.m. to five p.m. every day to avoid the satellites. Blah, blah, blah.
The one thing missing from the announcements was why the hell we were all here. Uncle Lou stood and dismissed us to the dining room for dinner. Sounded like a normal business conference, didn’t it? It was, right down to the rubber chicken on the plate in front of me.
Liv munched on her vegetarian lasagna and we settled into a simple conversation of pleasantries with the family. Mom, Pete, Liv, me, Dak and Paris—your average family of assassins at an average family reunion.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tom Stall:
In this family, we do not solve problems by hitting people!
Jack Stall:
No, in this
family
we shoot them!
—A History of Violence
 
 
Grandma stepped up to the microphone to start the keynote. Unlike normal conferences or conventions where you have an interesting speaker from outside the organization, our speaker was almost always a member of the Council. And they were all awful speakers. I groaned inwardly.
“Family is the most important thing we have,” Grandma began. I started to tune out until her words sounded like the adults on Charlie Brown cartoons.
Instead, I focused on the tables around me. Actually, there weren’t that many, only four in fact. And we were dead center.
To our right was Uncle Lou’s family, with Mom’s cousins York and Georgia and their kids, Sydney, Coney (Island) and Rich(mond)ie. Sydney’s son, Clinton, and daughter, Savannah, were adults now, just starting their careers. Richie hadn’t procreated (or wasn’t allowed to).
On our left was Dela’s family, with Cali, Missi, and Missi’s twin sons, Monty and Jack. They sat with Cali’s brother, Montana, and his unmarried children Lon(don) and Phil(adelphia). They reminded me of Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd, the gay assassins from the James Bond flick
Diamonds Are Forever.
The last table had the Europeans. Troy’s daughter, Burma; her daughter, India; and granddaughter, Delhi (who was fifteen and would be making her first hit soon). Flo’s daughter, Asia; granddaughter, Holland; and nineteen-year-old great-granddaughter, Madrid, joined them.
The European branch of the family only ever had one child each. I didn’t know why that was, but it didn’t really matter. I liked them. They seemed so mature. Or maybe it was just the accents.
Actually, I liked pretty much everyone. When we’d been in college, Liv and I would visit other family members during the summer breaks. Our brothers, Dakota and Paris, usually spent more time with the Europeans—especially at the family chalet in Switzerland. They skied constantly, always with new Scandinavian girls on their arms. And everyone doted on them. Bastards.
Grandma was onstage, wrapping up her speech. I should’ve been a little ashamed that I didn’t hear it, but from the looks on my family’s faces, it was a real yawner.
The chocolate reception was the only thing I liked about these reunions. Every possible use you could think of for chocolate was there. And everything was in theme.
BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy
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