W.O.L.F. Sector
Friday, Dec 15, 2017
Worlds Of Lesbian Fiction

Assassin

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Assassin - Chapter 4

Case was glad she'd remembered to put the Do Not Disturb sign on her door, when she finally woke at three in the afternoon. She sat up and looked around the motel room. Images from the previous day's work flashed through her mind, but she refused to pay attention to them, and they finally subsided back into her subconscious.

She pulled out her little black laptop and booted it up. Then she hooked it up to her cell phone and dialed her account. She checked her various e-mailboxes, deleting the junk mail as she went along, and answered the few messages that she deemed worthy of a reply.

Two of the e-mails were from colleagues. They were 'delivery boys' like her, and she'd worked with both of them at different times, but where she had a boss, they were both freelancers. She envied them. At least they could pick and choose their assignments. Working for Antonio, she lacked that particular luxury.

Davey was just checking in, wondering what she was up to and when would be a good time to get together and 'shoot the shit.' Davey always used such colorful expressions. She told him she'd look him up when she was in his area again.

Jeff, on the other hand, was looking for some professional advice concerning his current target. She offered her expertise willingly, since the type of job he was being paid to do was one she'd performed numerous times, and wished him good luck. She coded her language even though all her messages were encrypted, just in case the transmission was intercepted.

When she was done with her e-mail, she surfed around for a little while checking out her favorite sites for updates. She kept up with all the latest technological breakthroughs in her field of work. She'd found that it came in handy on the various assignments she was sent on, and anyone who worked with her was always amazed at her knowledge of cutting edge weaponry and spy paraphernalia.

When she'd finally been forced to become an assassin for Antonio, a lot of people hadn't taken her seriously. The guys Doc had told her to contact for training and anything else she needed had taken one look at her and laughed. She'd decided to go it alone after that and spent every waking moment perfecting the abilities she'd known she would need to fulfill Antonio's orders.

Less than a year later, her name had become almost legendary among the other hit men working for Antonio's organization, and Case had started receiving requests for advice. Now, such requests were routine. She always knew the best weapon for a job and the best place to find it for the best price.

She signed off and shut down the computer. She stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower, and then brought out clean clothes and put them on. She noticed it was after five o'clock. Food sounded almost good. She swiped her motel key off the table and left to find the closest fast food joint.

Case drove around the small city, as she ate her hamburger. When she was done, she pulled out her cell phone and checked her messages. She didn't expect any, not this soon after a job. She probably wouldn't hear from Doc for at least a week or two, but she always made sure to check the messages for that particular mailbox at least once a day, just in case. So she was rather surprised when a mechanical voice told her she had one new message. She pressed 1 on the phone and waited.

"Message One. Time... 2:53pm... Case. New job. This one's hot. Get to L.A. on the double. Money's in your account to cover expenses. Check back for the details once you get there... Please press 1 on your touch-tone phone to repeat this message or press 2 to..." Case deleted the message and turned off the phone.

Great, I need to get online and find an airport. And I'll have to leave the truck somewhere..., she thought, as she headed back to the motel to get her stuff and check out.

* * *

Rain showed up for work at Mr. Rossi's at 3pm as usual, but when he saw her, all he did was hand her a manila envelope and tell her good luck. She was escorted out of his home and got in her car to return to her own apartment. As soon as she was in the door, she sent her keys skidding across the dining room table and sat down on the couch to look through the envelope.

She pulled out several credit cards along with statements for each of the accounts. There was also documentation for a new cell phone account for the brand new state-of-the-art cell phone at the bottom of the envelope. There was a sealed letter that she tore open and began to read.

It detailed her new role as a hit woman for Antonio Carlotti, though neither his name nor hers was ever used. It also described new code phrases she would be required to use for all phone conversations with someone who was only referred to as 'Doc.' There was a phone number she was supposed to call and she assumed it would connect her with this Doc person.

She looked at her watch and saw it was almost five in the afternoon. She decided she would call in the morning. First, she needed time to reconcile the conflicting feelings she was having. She was excited to finally be taken into the inner sanctum of the Carlotti empire, but her oath to uphold the law had been sorely battered during her last three years as Erica Raineri, and she had a feeling it was only going to get worse from here on out. If she accepted her new position, and she had no doubts that a refusal would not be tolerated, then she was sure to end up in a situation where she would have to take an innocent life or blow her cover.

She knew that she would not be held accountable in that type of circumstance. In fact, she knew she was expected to commit criminal acts while undercover and no one would hold her legally responsible. A few innocents' deaths would be a small price to pay to take down Carlotti and his organization, but it didn't make her feel any better about the possibility. It was a lot easier to rationalize the deaths of the men who had attempted to kill her and those she was supposedly working for the night before.

Rain let her head fall back on the couch.

She had joined the FBI to do exactly what she was doing. Shortly after her fourteenth birthday, her older brother, who had been a police officer, had been shot and killed during a drug bust. Salvatore Carlotti had been responsible for the drug trafficking and he had paid the men who had gunned down her brother. The day after the funeral, she'd decided to join the FBI so that she could take down men like Carlotti and stop them from hurting anybody else.

She had the brains to become anything she wanted and she knew it. In fact, at age sixteen, she'd graduated with honors from the private boarding school where her father had sent her, and immediately began working towards a doctorate in psychology at the University of Virginia. She'd earned her M.A. by age eighteen, and then split her efforts between the University's Law School to earn her J.D. at age twenty-one, and the main campus to get her Ph.D. in psychology at twenty-three through a special accelerated program.

Splitting her time between the two goals had caused her to add an extra year to complete her Ph.D., but that had worked out fine. The FBI didn't accept anyone under the age of twenty-three, so the extra year had put her at the right age to apply.

With her degrees and superior athletic abilities, she'd been placed at the top of the list of her recruiter and had breezed through the whole application and acceptance process. Even the polygraph test hadn't fazed her. She'd finished the sixteen-week New Agent Training course at the top of her class, coming away from the experience with a new love for martial arts. As soon as she'd been assigned to a district office of the Criminal Investigative Division, she'd found a dojang and a teacher to instruct her in the Korean martial art of Taekwon-Do.

She'd gained her Ph.D. in psychology by focusing specifically on behavioral and forensic psychology, so she'd started out as a profiler. After a year, and a nearly perfect accuracy rating for all of the cases thrown at her, she'd gained a name for herself as one of the best profilers in the Division. She'd also earned her first-degree black belt, which proved to the chauvinistic agents around her that she was more than just a brain in a pretty body. She was a brain in a pretty lethal body.

After another year of flawless service, she'd finally requested a transfer to work in the organized crime unit. Her exemplary work had helped her superiors decide in her favor and she'd begun putting together cases against the various 'families' involved in the mob.

It had really only been recently that the familial structure to the Mafia had resurfaced. For a while, the whole thing had degenerated into loose affiliations between unrelated people, but then Salvatore Carlotti had taken over as head of the dying organization and breathed new life into it.

He'd managed to instill a sense of honor and respectability into his subordinates and brought back the idea that if one person was a member, then everyone related to them was a member and therefore should be taken care of with the same amount of respect. He gave people a sense of belonging that was missing in their lives. Unfortunately, he did it through extortion, assault, murder, torture, burglary, drug trafficking, and selling guns on the black market.

Two years later, Rebecca Raines had requested to be placed undercover as Erica Raineri and she'd been given the green light. The only thing she'd continued from her previous life was her martial arts training and she'd recently been awarded her fifth degree black belt.

Rain thought over the twists and turns her life had taken. She hadn't spoken to her father since shortly before joining the Bureau and she didn't really have any urge to do so. As it was, while undercover, she was to have no contact with anyone from her former life. It was just as well. She didn't have anything to say to him anyway.

She stood up from the couch and looked around at the dark living room. She flipped on a light and went to the kitchen to fix herself a late dinner. She'd call this Doc person tomorrow and deal with things as they came. She'd just have to focus on the greater good when it came down to crunch time.

* * *

The flight went surprisingly fast, and Case found herself at a motel on Western Avenue in Hollywood just a little after one in the morning. She'd checked her account to find the earlier deposit of thirty-five thousand dollars, along with a new deposit of five thousand, which had more than covered the one-way ticket she'd bought. She knew she could have stayed at a swanky hotel if she'd wanted to, but growing up poor had made her very aware of money and how to cut corners on spending it, so here she was at a motel that didn't mind customers that paid by the hour.

She was hungry and she remembered the 7-11 they'd passed as the cab drove down Hollywood Boulevard to drop her off onto Western Ave. Thinking back, she figured it probably wasn't much over a mile of a walk, so she grabbed her motel key and headed out. It didn't occur to her, until after she'd started walking down the lamplit street, that she should probably feel nervous about walking around the city in the middle of the night. But she actually felt very calm. It was quiet for the most part, and there were no annoying tourists around to get in her way, so she strolled comfortably down the Boulevard, hands in her pockets, almost whistling.

As she stepped into the 7-11, the bright lights made her eyes ache, but she quickly adjusted from the darkness outside and went to the glass cases along the back of the store. She bought a sandwich, a soda, and munchies to take back with her to her room. On the way out, she gave the homeless guy sitting by the payphones her change, and then continued back to the motel.

Once back in her room, she ate, then checked her messages and got a simple "Call me" from Doc. She dialed his number and waited. On the seventh ring, it picked up.

"Doc."

The voice sounded crisp, but Case knew he'd been sleeping. Otherwise, he would have picked up by the third ring.

"Case. I'm here."

Doc grimaced as he tried to get his head on straight.

"Good." He punched the button to turn his monitor on and took the computer off stand-by mode. A couple clicks with the mouse and he had the right file up on his screen. "The package is to be delivered COD to a Mrs. Ryan at 436 Elmwood Drive. She'll be paying you in merchandise."

So, this would just be a simple hit, no background search required, but she would have do it in person and make it look like a robbery.

"What's in the package?"

"Some mail-order hunting knives."

Case felt her stomach knot up at the mention of knives.

"Window of delivery?"

"Between 10am and noon. Tomorrow. I've sent you a pic, so you recognize her."

"I'll check my mail. Anything else?"

"Nope. That's it."

"All right, I'll call ya tomorrow."

Case hung up before he could say anything else. She pulled the little laptop out of her bag and used the cell phone to sign on and then checked the appropriate e-mail account. In less than five minutes, she had the graphic of a thirty-something blonde-haired woman loaded on her screen. Now, she had all the info she needed to get the job done. At least this one wouldn't require the purchase of any high-tech equipment. She could just go to one of the shops on Hollywood Blvd., and pick up a $20 bowie knife.

She looked at the time. 2:08am. She could get a few hours sleep, get the knife in the morning, and catch a bus out to the address by 10am. She set the alarm clock for 8am and let her body crash into unconsciousness.


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