Point two two.

Posted by Barbanne on September 13, 2000 at 15:50:33:


I think it's my very ordinariness that makes me so successful.
The jet taxied towards the terminal and the cabin crew prepared for disembarkation.
I was not amongst the first off nor was I last. Just somewhere in the middle suited me fine. I was dressed in a navy blue mid length skirt and a pale blue blouse and had sensible low heeled shoes and my hair was combed up and off my face and held behind me in a ponytail. The glasses I wore were my own and I had only my purse as carry on luggage.
I checked out of the airport and collected my one medium sized suitcase.
I walked out of the airport lounge and went straight to parking bay A105. The car was there, a green Hyundai, nice and ordinary, nothing out of the usual. I used the key that I had collected before boarding the plane to disarm and unlock the car and, checking the street directory, I drove to the address in Fairmont. I parked about three blocks away in the entry road to a park and opened the boot and retrieved the gun. It was where they had said it would be in the wheel well and it was a silenced .22 as I had requested.
I pulled on the plastic gloves from my purse, the type surgeons use, before I touched the gun. I checked it was loaded.
The plane had arrived at eleven PM and it was now after midnight.
I drove on to the actual address. I left the car under some trees on the opposite side of the road and three houses further on. I got out and locked it using the key. I crossed the road and popped the side door lock using my card. I took off my shoes and noted that I made no sound whatsoever. I climbed the stairs to the bedroom which was exactly where it should be and went in. The door was open and they were lying together, both naked with the sheets only covering their feet as befitted the hot night. She was very pretty and blonde and had lovely large breasts which were splayed on either side of her chest in the relaxed pose of sleep. Her head was on his shoulder and one arm was across his tummy and the other arm rested by her side her hand cupping her own groin and her pussy.
"Probably had to finish for yourself dear," I said to myself.
I shot her just above the nose right in the middle of her forehead.
I shot him in the right temple before he even started to awake.
Then I shot them both twice again. Through the left temple and behind the right ear.
Both bodies were quivering, burbling and twitching with the reflex motion of newly dead flesh that is coming to grips with its own death.
I went downstairs, retrieved my shoes and returned to the car.
The Senator entered the stair to the lower floor car park. He was dressed in lightweight, expensive casual clothing in earth colours. As he reached the half landing I started up from below. We passed mid flight and he smiled and said hello to the busty young woman in shorts and a tee shirt. I smiled back, coy and shy and as he passed me, I turned and shot him in the back of the head. He stumbled and his hand grasping the hand rail stayed stretched out as he fell and skidded to the bottom landing. I followed him down and shot him twice more in the head.
I heard the hiss of the door closer on the upper landing as it opened.
I hurried to my rented car and was driving up the ramp when I heard the cries from the stairwell. As I drove away I discarded the blonde wig and sun glasses and spat out the cotton wool padding. I cursed the padding in the outsized bra that I was wearing. The security cameras would show a strange busty blonde with a pronounced over bite.
Not me at all.
I pushed the pram with the sleeping baby girl swaddled within down the back pathway in Hyde Park. I was wearing the uniform of a paid nanny. The girl who had set out from the house near Belgrave Square wearing this uniform now lay on her back under a grove of thick bushes, stripped to her sensible cotton underwear and with three .22 slugs in her head.
The target girl appeared.
She was beautifully groomed and wore a smart mini skirted business suit.
Careful research had paid off for me. This Foreign Office courier was a creature of habit. She invariably walked this way to and from work and her brief case was always under her arm and chained to her slender wrist. She also had an inordinate weakness for babies. As we passed she looked into the pram, paused and stooped down to look at the baby and said, "Isn't she gorgeous?"
I nodded and before she had fully straightened up I shot her through the left ear.
She dropped like a stone, spreadeagled and her skirt hiked up showing fleshy thighs and sexy stocking tops. I shot her twice more in the forehead. I used the pliers to cut through the chain and taking her outstretched arm, dragged her limp body away from the path and in under some trees. The grume of her dying had spread stickily into her hair.
I stripped off the plastic gloves and wheeled the baby out onto the grass near the main pathway. I hoped someone would find the kid soon. I walked away, went into the toilet block and emerged a moment or two later dressed in my own clothes. I walked around the park to where I had left the rental car and drove away. I stopped by a canal and tossed the gloves and nanny's uniform, now in a weighted plastic shopping bag, into the water. A few kilometres further on I tossed the gun. Like all of the guns I used it had no markings and I had left no fingerprints and anyway it would almost certainly never be found.
I wheeled the trolley into the hotel room.
"Room service," I called.
"Just set it on the table."
The bathroom door was ajar and the voice came from within.
Anna Kristofolous had certainly picked a very nice hotel in which to start spending the money she had purloined from Carlos the Colombian. Naughty girl Anna. Don't you know you can't steal from the drug cartel and hope to live to enjoy it.
I crossed to the door.
Anna, a tall, spectacular, black haired Athenian was standing with her back to me, completely nude, one foot perched on the rim of the bath while she dried between her thighs. I took one step and shot her just above the left ear.
The towel dropped and she crashed down. Her jaw hit the side of the bath and something broke like crack! She lay face down, her head propped on the side of the bath and her long body stretched out. Her body quivered and her buttocks twitched. Blood, thick, crimson and viscous, oozed out of her shattered skull. I shot her twice more in the head. Her body shuddered and the acrid stench of pee assailed my nostrils as a yellowish puddle spread under her butt, creeping across the tiles and trickling into the floor waste. I looked down at the still corpse.
"You shoulda known you can't win Anna. Can't beat the mob."
I dumped my waitress uniform in a laundry basket and left via the front lobby.
The guy was a stockbroker. Every evening after work he toned his body in the gym for an hour before taking his latest girlfriend out to dine and then home to fuck.
This night it was he and she working out together. Of course he had the very best gym gear money could buy. She had an immaculate leotard from someone with a name and a huge price tag. She also had a body that money can't buy and the face of an absolute angel and thick tawny hair and a skull full of fairy floss.
They giggled a lot and she pumped iron and showed her muscles.......,well, she showed her mammaries, if you consider them muscles, and flexed her tummy and wriggled her ass heaps and by the time they wound up their routine, every male in the place was struggling with a rampant erection inside their gym shorts and every female in the place wished her dead. Mostly because Mister Stocks and Shares was an absolue hunk and the girls had been eyeing him for ever and now everyone of them had to face defeat at the painted nails and false eyelashes of Ms Bimbo.
Nobody took an iota of notice of the little babe in the stained sweats who was struggling with weights and puffing her lungs out on the exercise bike.
So when Mister and Ms Gorgeous People went to relax in the sauna there was an air of relief in the place and nobody really noticed the daggy little babe when she picked up her old sports bag and headed for the showers.
Ms Bimbo needed to pee and while he was adjusting temperature and steam flow she went to the ladies change rooms and pulled down her leotard and settled in for a piddle. I followed her in and using the pan next door to stand on popped over the cubicle wall and said "Excuse me Miss but never get caught with your pants down."
She looked up like whaaaaaat??? and I shot her between her baby blues. I leaned over and let myself into her cubicle. She was squatting on the pan with her head back against the cistern, looking surprised and I shot her twice more, once in the ear and once in the mouth.
I went into the sauna.
He was there with a towel around him and a very obvious hard on.
"Hey babe in here," he said, thinking I was she.
I walked in and shot him once twice three times in quick succession in the head.
I left.
Gymnasia are such exhausting places.
The woman was a wealthy real estate agent.
Her husband, five years younger, had married her for that money. But then he had met her PA and the two of them had found they really really enjoyed fucking like rabbits and spending the wife's money.
I didn't like the way this had to be done but that's what he wanted, that's what he was paying for and so that's what he would get.
It was easy to get into her car, a Volvo station wagon. She came out of the side door that connected the house to the garage and slid in behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Before she could do another thing, I rose from the back seats like a striking cobra and used the South American Indian finger strike to knock her out. I jumped out of the car and uncoiled the plastic hose the husband had bought in her name and shoved it through the back window of the car and connected it to the exhaust of the idling motor. Throughout I had used plastic gloves so that only her fingerprints appeared on the handle and the key and in fact anything else.
I went inside using her keys and set the phone to answer and typed the suicide note on her PC. I left the PC turned on with the message displayed.
I went back to the garage. The motor was idling smoothly and the lady's face was the colour of chopped liver. She was dead no risk about that.
I considered popping the girlfriend as the shit didn't deserve to get all he wanted but I realise I have a professional reputation to protect.
I went back on the bus.
My work makes me reasonably wealthy but I can't spend it. I can't risk the chance that any display of riches will destroy my carefully cultivated anonymity.
One day I'll quit and enjoy the good life or at least I hope I will.
Probably before that happens I'll meet my successor in a stairwell or a lift or a darkened bedroom and it will be me who gets the slugs in the head.
Ah well...........................