The Hit

Chapter Three

 I woke up the next morning in time to be to the office early. I took the elevator to floor 26, otherwise known as International Private Security Consulting LLC. This of course, was a company in name only. I guess you could make an argument that we provided security, however indirectly that may be. Or at least that's what I had thought before the last few days.

 I sat in my assigned cubical. I hadn't done that in well over a year. The plaque read Ryan Jackson, Field Agent. They did a good job of making the office look like a legitimate business.

 "Good work in Germany." I heard from behind me. I spun around to see Frank Krysko leaning on the cubical wall. "Here's the next one" he said handing me a file. "Sorry about the short break. This one needs to be done asap but doing it correctly may take some time to set up. Best we didn't wait to get you working on it."

 "No problem boss." I said flipping the file open. As always a picture of the target was on top. It showed a woman who appeared to be in her mid twenties with absolutely stunning features.

 "Damn, she's pretty. What did she do to end up in my hands?" I said instantly regretting it.

 "The fuck did you just ask me boy?"

 "Sorry!" I said. "Just thoughts leaking out."

  "Rule number one son, never ask why."

 "Yes sir!" I said enthusiastically, trying to play it off.

 He patted me on the shoulder. "I'll let you get to it then."

 I decided, as I always do, to take my work to go. I had a storage locker I kept all my files, a spare laptop and of course, all of my guns in. It was one of the fancy ones. Climate controlled and quiet. After arrival I put on my studying music, symphonic metal, and got to work.

 My targets name was Alissa Jane Manning (AKA Vicky), white female, age 27, 5'4", 115 pounds (estimated), blue eyes, black hair (natural color), occupation waitress and part time escort. Lives alone in a single bedroom apartment, no personal transportation.

 I flipped to the second page. It isn't unusual to have special instructions. this is where I would find them. It could be a specific place the hit needs to take place, a deadline maybe. I had one hit that required it look like a car accident. Some hits required things that would curb suspicion from authorities. This one was a first though.

 "Must look like a drug overdose, must take place in a hotel or motel."

 It was clear I was to use the escort angle to get this done. The problem was I didn't have a clue how to contact an escort. I had her phone number, but I doubted that she used it to secure work of that nature. Scouring the internet for something seemed unlikely to yield results. All I had for an alias was Vickie. The hotel part made some sense. If law enforcement deems you live a high risk lifestyle they tend not to work your case as hard, if at all.

 I get the set up time comment now. I have to literally set up a date, get her to a hotel, and make it look like a john gave her bad drugs.

 The first step, as it always was, know the lay of the land. I drove first to her apartment, then the restaurant she worked at. I had to find places to park or sit where I would blend in. Basically I wanted to be invisible to someone who wasn't looking for me. Preferably even if they were. The apartment shouldn't be difficult. The road wasn't very well lit. Curbside parking was the norm so no one would question my car sitting there. At night I shouldn't be noticed at all. During the day, at least as far as I could tell from my only visit thus far, people seemed to come and go and likely wouldn't think twice about me sitting in my car for what they would only know to be a few minutes at most.

 The restaurant would be far more difficult. Parking options were limited to paid parking. It wouldn't make any sense for someone to pay for parking just to read a book or the news. There was a cafe across the street I could use to loiter for a while without raising suspicion. I would need a cover story though. Wait staff tend to be nosy and questions about my suddenly appearing and becoming an overnight "regular" would certainly be coming.

 I made the decision to go talk to Gerald, the organizations tech and document supervisor. That was his cover title. I picked up a cell phone with software that would allow me to mirror Alissa's phone. Everything she did, every text she sent or phone call she made, I could see or hear it.

 The following morning I parked half a block from her apartment. I watched intently waiting for her to leave. When she finally did I made sure she was well out of sight before making my move. Fuck I hope this isn't a waste of time I thought.

 I casually walked to her apartment building, the old brick was weather beaten and faded. The stairs creaked as I made my way to the third floor, there was no elevator. Number 303. The floor was quiet, but I still made an effort to pick the lock on her door quickly. Luckily it was old and cheap so a few seconds was all I needed. Once inside I located her laptop, conveniently resting in plain sight on the arm her couch. Her apartment actually looked smaller than mine somehow. Likely because she had a lot more filling up the space. It looked homey, cluttered, but clean and comfortable. There was a wine glass on the coffee table and some mail scattered around. Otherwise it's what you would expect. A couch, chair, kitchen table, a few plants and brightly colored pictures. Basically an Ikea if the employees lived there.

 I plugged the phone into the laptop and opened it. No password. That's a good sign. I used her browser history to locate her phone carrier. Her username and password were saved. All I had to do now was open the phone, touch an icon already on the phone, and wait. It felt like it took forever, in reality It had only taken three or four minutes.

 I placed the laptop back where I had found it and headed for the door. Once reaching the street I was surprised to see Alissa just a few feet from me walking in my direction. Holy shit! I thought, Wasn't she going to work?. The coffee cup in her hand indicating that was not the case. I had nearly fucked the entire hit. I should have waited and learned more about her routine. I was rushing this for job some reason. Part of me just wanted it done and over with. She wasn't the sleaze bag I had hoped for.

 I fucked up further by standing in front of the buildings entrance. Staring in her direction, but not at her necessarily.

 "Excuse me." Alissa said. I was still standing in her way, frozen.

 "I'm sorry, forgive me." I muttered back, making eye contact for the first time. The contrast between her blue eyes and black hair caught me off guard. She truly was beautiful.

 I stepped aside and she flashed a smile before disappearing behind the door.

 I'm sorry, Forgive me. Why the hell had I said that of all things?