A Degree in Murder

Chapter Twenty-Two: Three Days Grace

Three days. I only have three God forsaken days.

Eleanor leaned against her rental car in an underground parking lot, shoved her hands into her pockets and stared at the sky. The overcast weather provided the perfect backdrop for the chaos that consumed her mind. She had been replaying her conversation with Liam over and over in her head, so much so that sleep evaded her. With her resolve strengthened, Eleanor returned to the dark web once more in search of the final pieces of the puzzle. The contact she had used to purchase the general anaesthetic apparently had his finger in several other pies, which made things easier for her. The urgency of the matter forced her to pay above the standard market price but it was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things.

Twenty minutes later a beat-up blue sedan pulled up in the slot next to her, prompting her to firmly grip the pepper spray hidden in her pocket. With so many empty spaces to choose from, why did he or she pick the one next to her? Eleanor watched intently while a six feet tall, shabbily dressed man with a full beard stepped out of the car and glanced in her direction. She took a step back and when he noticed this, he held his hands up.

"Are you the people's doctor? Listen lady, I'm not looking for trouble," said the man as calmly as he could.

Eleanor relaxed a little but her hand did not stray far from the pepper spray in her pocket. "If you know me by that moniker, then it's safe to assume that you're the survivalist?

"Correct. Can I put my hands down now?"

Eleanor gave a brief nod and watched as he slowly put his hands down.

"Shall we get down to the brass tacks? I don't want to stay here any longer than I need to. You have the payment ready?" asked the survivalist.

Eleanor removed an envelope from the inside pocket of her jacket and handed it over to him. He peered into the envelope and counted the money. Once he was satisfied with what he saw, the dealer stuffed the envelope into his back pocket. He opened the trunk of his car and passed a sweeping gaze around him before opening a secret compartment. Eleanor hiked an eyebrow in astonishment.

"This wasn't easy to put together on such short notice. Whatever it is you plan to do must be big and from the looks of it, it must be done soon. For a little extra, I can get it done for you," said the survivalist, handing her the bag.

"So you'd be willing to do a job you know nothing about on less than three days notice?"

"Not necessarily. I'm just a middleman, a link, between the customer and the executor. My roles are transportation of goods and receipt of payment. What's the job?" asked the survivalist.

Eleanor contemplated the question for a few moments. Consumed by her single-minded pursuit of justice, she had completely disregarded the possibility of outsourcing her mission to someone more qualified. She took a deep breath and spent the next few minutes explaining what happened to her and the job she intended to do, carefully altering the names of everyone involved except those of Zhang Wei and Leon Truss.

"That is a major shitshow if I ever heard one. People think the worst monsters on earth exist so far away when the truth is that they are staring them right in the face every day and smiling. Are you sure you are capable of doing the deed? That's if you do manage to get that far?"

"It's not a matter of if I'm capable or not. I just have to do it otherwise nothing will change," replied Eleanor vehemently.

The survivalist crossed his arms and stared at the ground, digesting her words. After what seemed like an eternity, he snapped out of his trance. "I'm sure you're well aware of how little your chances of success are with this crazy plan. I like a good underdog story and I want to see that son of a bitch go down. Now let's get your chances as far from zero as possible."