Kill for Me

A Fool's Errand

"You gonna tell me where you got that kind of cash?" Pope's question was the first thing spoken in minutes. Long enough for him to finish a cigarette and fish out a Polaroid from his pocket and drop it in the woman's lap. "I assume that was you," he added.

Veronica glanced at the picture she had taken earlier that day of the very duffel bag that now lay beside him. Written on the back in Sharpie ink were the words, "It's a much as it looks. You'll find me here. Bring Blake." Beneath that were coordinates which he had clearly followed to the letter. Otherwise they would not be having this conversation.

"Guilty as charged," she replied, brushing the Polaroid out of her lap. "And if you're worried someone's going to come looking for that bag, don't. I earned that money myself. It's mine to do with as I wish."

Pope did not look at her, giving his cigarette an irritated puff. "You don't feel you owe me details?"

"Never you mind the particulars," she replied with a smirk, mirroring his words and tone exactly. They remained in silence for a few moments, long enough for her to finish her cigarette, and as she snuffed it out, he finally glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Guess the only question left is what is it you want now?"

"Who says I want anything?" she asked, remaining seated against the trunk of the tree.

"You often smoke along people who just tried to kill you?" he asked pointedly.

"You didn't try to do anything," she chuckled. "Coming out here and pointing that gun at me? You and I both know you were just flexing. If you were going to kill me you would have fucking done it. Not tried."

"You still haven't answered my first question. What do you want?" he repeated.

"Just to talk," she answered, rising to her feet.

"I ain't got time for talking. I'm a busy man," he replied cooly.

"Walking corpses can wait. Besides, I'm sure there's enough in that bag to buy me a few minutes of your time."

Pope raised an eyebrow, letting out a sigh of annoyance, then dropped his cigarette to the forest floor and stomped it out. "You've got five minutes, then."

"I have a proposition for you." Veronica stepped in front of him, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie but her look determined. "There's someone I need dead, and I know you're the guy to go to. But I need to be the one who kills him."

"Then you don't need me," the hitman replied.

"Actually, I do. I may be able to talk my way through a negotiation to save my ass, but I don't know shit about guns or even successfully planning out a kill. Of all the debauched things on my resume, I'm afraid that's the one thing I'm lacking."

Realizing where this was going, he shook his head. "I ain't in the mentoring business, so why don't you just tell me who you want put down and maybe we can talk price."

"Not an option," she replied, shaking her head. "I need to do this myself. And you're my best chance of making that happen."

Pope gave her a skeptical look. "You must think I'm stupid or that I don't know why Peter Blake put a hit on you in the first place." Her brow raised but she said nothing. "Apparently a shipment of his product was hijacked and tainted. A lot of customers almost died and that's really bad for business. If you think for a second that I don't know it was you..."

"Breaking into a badly guarded storage unit to slip a small amount of the wrong chemical into a batch of meth to create some pissed off customers is a lot easier than killing who I need dead," she cut in. "And you and I both know Peter Blake's success was nothing more than dumb luck that was going to run out eventually. He was arrogant and short sighted. Out here in the sticks he could be successful, but if he had tried running his business in an inner city somewhere, he would have been dead before he could even market his first batch. Calling him a drug lord is a fucking joke."

She was not wrong. Even he could not deny that.

"But you're right," she continued. "I did do that. I also was able to track down your house in the middle of fucking nowhere to leave that photograph for you to find. I know exactly what I can fucking do. So believe me when I say I know damn well what I can't do."

He considered her words, his curiosity growing to a dangerous level. Any more and he may actually start to agree to this.

"I will pay you for your time. Whatever amount you feel is fair. I've got a lot saved up from my last job and as you can probably tell, I've barely spent any of it on myself." He looked her up and down. Her ratty jeans, her old hoodie. She certainly did not seem the type capable of carrying around a duffel bag stuffed with that much cash.

"Who's your mark?" he asked, still needing to know what she was trying to get herself into.

"I'm going after Jackson."

At her words, the hitman cracked a smile and scoffed at her loudly, shaking his head while taking a few paces around her. "You are out of your goddamn mind. That ain't never gonna happen."

"It needs to happen," she insisted.

"Joseph Jackson," he repeated, watching her with amusement. "Girl, what you're asking is equal to planning a hit on the President of the United States. Ain't nothing I can show you that would get you ready to do that. You better get that stupid idea out of your head now, before you get yourself fucking killed."

"You think I'm stupid?" she asked. "I have no intention of going after him straight off. To go after the President, you don't charge the oval office. You take out his security, his resources. You hit him where it hurts until he's weak." At this, Pope came to a realization and looked at her stunned.

"Peter Blake's death was planned from the beginning," he stated. "You drove him after you so that he would hire me to find you and then we would meet. But your intent to kill him was just as important as your intent to get my attention."

At this, she nodded. "Peter Blake's drug empire, if you can even call it that, paired nicely with Joseph Jackson's work. Blake provided the drugs to keep the girls complacent and numb, and Jackson's girls would help acquire new customers for Blake while Jackson kept a percentage of the profits. Taking Peter Blake out is a good start to hitting Jackson where it hurts."

"I can't argue that," Pope agreed with her. "But it won't be hard to replace him. And as long as Jackson has his product, he'll have his business which gives him power and resources you ain't ready to reckon with."

"Women," Veronica snapped. "Not product. They're women. And don't you dare let me catch you calling them that again."

The hitman stifled a laugh. "Mighty touchy for someone clearly on the warpath."

"You're goddamn right I am," she answered in a cold tone. "Joseph Jackson needs to die and I need to be the one to end him. But I can't do that without your help." She took a step closer, her eyes locked onto his. "Teach me how to kill someone. Teach me how to do it right. I ain't asking you to play a part in whatever happens to Jackson. I'm only asking for the tools to do it. And like I said, I will pay you well for your time."

Pope stared her down for several minutes, visibly tossing the idea in his head which she took as a sign of progress.

"Tell you what," he said at last. "Got a job I got planned later tonight. You come with me, show me what you got... and maybe I'll consider it."

Veronica gave a nod without hesitation. "Done."