BRANDED CIGARETTES

CHAPTER 2...

In 1784, Louis XV of France gifted a necklace containing 647 flawless diamonds to his mistress, Madame du Barry. When the time of his death arrived, it is discovered that the necklace was unpaid for, leaving the jewellers almost bankrupt. The conflict of the story comes from scammers declaring that the priceless necklace was stolen by no other than Queen Marie Antoinette. How? The jewellers were presented with forged documents claiming the purchase was for Marie Antoinette. However, in a twist no one saw coming, Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy, the self-proclaimed "Comtesse de la Motte" {a notorious French adventuress and thief} was found guilty and punished . My only question, up until now, was 'how did she get away with it? ' And that, my friends, is my favourite history lesson—the affair of the diamond necklace...

*****

Chalk powder blends in, marrying my complexion. I sweep my eyelashes with mascara. Carefully, I line my eyes with kohl to give my grey contacts an alluring look. Slowly, I pull my ash blonde hair into a neat bun, exposing what seems like a diamond necklace on my warm, ivory-white skin.

Stepping into a colossal hall, I glance at the crowd blasting bright beams of pure wealth into every corner of the lavish room. The jumble of the usual pleasantries, canapés and champagne Blanc de Noirs bring my eyes to the end of the room with women. Some wear lustrous gold, others silken sliver; most of them are in long and loose satin dresses, some slipping down to their shoulders. However, what makes them all similar are their husbands in 5-piece business suits, laughing nearby.

My eyes drift to the centre of the room where an old fashion chandelier drips with the best cut jewels enticing me. Below it, are two muscled men, guarding the breath-taking antiques, which dated back the early spread of Islam to China all the way up to France. Auctions – one could say – were a cultural tradition that allowed the rich to gather.

I grab a seat with the rest of the crowd as a speech booms within the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual auction!" the auctioneer smiles. "Without further ado, I'd like to introduce you to the first item for bid—the lost pot of Russia. According to tradition, this pot was used by a thousand royal ancestors between 66AD to 92AD ."

Looking close enough, one could see the precious antique covered in a thick layer of dust.

"The starting bid goes at $2500," the auctioneer states.

This goes on for a while. Suddenly, I see what I came for and, without hesitation; I take off my diamond necklace and hold it in my hand.

"Okay ladies, this one is mostly for you. The 300-carat diamond necklace worn by the queen herself. This goes for 1.7 million!" the auctioneer announces proudly.

"It's gorgeous—3 million!" a lanky woman bids.

"4 million!" a wrinkled man shouts, giving the lanky woman a look.

"7 million..." A man in a designer suit calmly proclaim.

"How's 10 million?" I say as I adjust my dress to reveal not all but some of my breast.

A deafening silence falls upon the hall, one that is only broken when the auctioneer speaks. "Going once... going twice... going thrice?" He pauses while looking around before he declaring, "Okay then, SOLD to the woman in red!"

Moving through the bunch of gentlemen, I casually search for my target before I spot him. Passing by his chair, I gently place the diamond necklace and a note on his lap without permitting a single person to recognize. Paying for the necklace, I head out the hall, trigger a smoke detector, and switch the lights off.

In minutes, panicking people push passed each other to escape the hall which is pervaded with the sound of a fire alarm, except my target, whose note has convinced him to stay. Eventually, the doors close and a blast is heard in the room, alerting me that my job is done. And this, my friends, will become my last murder, making a mark in history—the explosive planted in the diamond necklace affair.

*****

Waving my hand side to side, I finally catch a cab. Once I settle myself, I inform the driver, "Two stops, the international bank and the airport."

"Going somewhere exciting?" She questions as the cab run over the black tarmac, the windows covered in beads of water and the rain beating on the roof like some insane drummer.

"Frankly, back home for good this time. I completed a five-year job and now I'm eager to return to a loved one," I answer as she nods.

As, soon as the cab comes to a halt, I enter the bank, collect my money from my target's bank account and return to the cab heading to board my flight.

*****

Gazing through the plane window was the most peaceful I had been in months. The sky never failed to amaze me—it was a canvas of dark colours filled with mystery and glittering stars shining like coloured diamonds across the sky. Abruptly, I see a brief flash – maybe from a shooting star or just the red pulsing radiations from the plane caught my eye – and leads me to a distant memory...

12 YEARS AGO, IN PRAGUE...

"Kill them with kindness and bury them with a smile," he grinned, "but most importantly, don't dress to kill, dress to survive." He shuts his eyes," I trust you to protect her too," he hands me a list. " I love you, Kamla ," he takes one last breath as his hand lets go of mine.

"No, listen, you will make it!" I check his pulse "No! No! Dad, please! I can't do this without you!" I weep.

A scarlet liquid had drenched his white shirt; the light had left his eyes as the colour from his cheerful cheeks vanished as if hail had struck him. From that moment, I marched out of the door with my father's list, promising myself I would destroy every last one of them and protect her until my last breath.

THE PRESENT, IN UNITED STATES...

The plane descends, hastening towards an almost unreachable runway and following the two electric bulbs blazing at ground level.  I feel a jolt from the plane's back wheels as they come into contact with the rough tarmac.

Getting off the plane, all I could witness are plasma screens of arrival and departure times on the wall of the airport.I walk, with my luggage, towards  people lined up at the check-in desk with suitcases and baggage, checking my passport once or twice. Adjacent to the check-out is a tremendous fountain of a leviathan with water cascading from it's mouth and trickling down it's tail.In the background, there is a cacophony of noises,which comes from a curious mixture of bored and excited people- some lounging on the low comfy chairs and others bouncing on their toes.

Sauntering out of the airport, I catch a cab that seems as though it sneered to speed limits.

"Where to?" he the cab driver asks.

" Alistone Bar," I speak.

"Ever been there?"he questions.

"No, just have some work to complete!" I respond.

*****

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