Bettina and Sandi exchanged looks; something about this didn’t feel right. “Let’s go talk to him, right now,” Bettina said. “Maybe in private we can get some information out of him.”Posted by critmk on February 11, 2002 at 07:40:00:
The Scamming Stewardess
a story by critmk
Chapter 19: Meanwhile, Back in the Bar…
“Please be patient, ladies, Leona will be along in just a moment, and we’ll start our meeting,” Dominic said, to the 11 stews assembled in the resort’s spacious, sunny bar/lobby. “I’ll need to confer with her for a moment before we begin, too. I’ll be in the small conference room just down the hall.”
Several of the girls had raided the open bar and had become a little tipsy and loud. But the three uniformed members of the crew of Lissa’s plane hadn’t taken a sip. They were suspicious and impatient. They hadn’t been able to find Lissa and her top aides that morning (they had no way of knowing that they’d been killed the night before).
Bettina and Sandi exchanged looks; something about this didn’t feel right. “Let’s go talk to him, right now,” Bettina said. “Maybe in private we can get some information out of him.”
“Well, we are pretty good at getting things out of men,” Sandi replied. “Let’s go.”
The girls at the bar paid no attention when Sandi, a tall, tanned, athletic blonde of 31, and Bettina, a slender woman of 22 with long, luxuriously thick brown hair, followed Dominic out of the room. But Mora, one of the three from Lissa’s crew, wasn’t one to let it pass.
“Did you see that?” she asked her colleagues. “Sandi and Bettina went after him.”
“What do you think they’re up to?” Sharon asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if they tried to cut their own deal,” Kim said.
“Those two think they’re smarter than the rest of us. Damn, I wish Lissa were here – she’d know how to take charge. Who the fuck died and left Betty and Sandi boss?”
Mora reached up her skirt and patted the derringer in the thigh holster there. All three girls had them. “We have ways of reminding them that this is a group thing, with no side deals allowed. Let’s let them talk for a while, then crash their private meeting.”
Bettina had never forgotten the coldness in Dominic’s eyes when she first saw him, in the hotel corridor in Chicago weeks ago -- the way he’d caught the elevator door, smiled at her, pointed his finger at her chest as if it were a gun. It had chilled Bettina to the core, and she felt the same chill now across the table from him. She was a tough young woman, daring and smart, but Dominic frightened her.
Sandi, on the other hand, was her typical upbeat, seductive self. To her, Dominic was just another guy, and guys were always susceptible to the charms of a California blonde with a sensational body and a 1000-watt smile. Sandi, to Bettina’s obvious disapproval, sat close to Dominic and casually put a hand under the conference table.
“Isn’t it time you told us about this deal? How does Leona fit in?” Bettina asked, in her charming, German-accented English.
Dominic leaned forward and crossed his arms over his briefcase on the table. He disarmed her with the casual frankness of his answer: “Leona is helping me to sell a computer encryption system and codes that are quantum leaps ahead of anything in current use. They are worth billions. She arranged a buyer through her contacts here in Thailand, and she eased international transport and customs clearance of the merchandise through Lissair.
“But there were complications. We had some competition that had to be eliminated, and some bystanders stumbled into the way. Leona and I had to kill rather a lot of people to get to this point. And now you and your friends have put your pretty noses into our business.”
Bettina recoiled. “You killed everyone who got in the way?”
Sandi drew her hand back from Dominic’s thigh. She looked as if she might burst into tears as she blurted out the obvious question: “You’re not going to kill us, are you?”
Bettina reached across the table and gripped Sandi’s arm. “Calm yourself, Sandi.” She looked Dominic in the eye. “If he had wanted us dead, we’d be dead already. He has some use for us.”
Kim, Mora and Sharon barged in and broke up the tense, silent moment. Mora spoke up, sharply.
“You two wouldn’t be in here looking for a separate deal, would you? Because we wouldn’t approve of that, and neither would Lissa.” She raised her skirt, to show the derringer in her thigh holster. Kim and Sharon did the same.
Before Bettina or Sandi could answer, Dominic spoke, as he opened his briefcase. “Keep your skirts on, girls. I’ll be happy to tell you all exactly what’s going on.” He held up two computer discs in his left hand. “It’s very simple, really. It’s about these, which are worth a great deal of money. In order to keep them and get all that money for ourselves, Leona and I had to go on a bit of a murder spree. Lissa, for example, is dead. And so are you.”
The trio was a matched set in their beige Lissair uniform suits. All were slender, in that fashion-model way, and in their mid-20s. 34-Bs all around. Their features were small and delicate, their cheekbones high.
White, two-strap high-heeled slingbacks displayed six pretty feet. Hair distinguished them: Sharon’s was long, straight, very light blonde, parted in the middle. Mora’s short ‘do left a rakish shock over her forehead. Kim had the same cut, but in honey blonde.
The first two bullets from Dominic’s silenced Uzi cut into Kim’s gut. Sharon, in the center of the group, took one in the right bicep as Dominic swung his deadly weapon across his exquisitely feminine targets. Three sprays of blood and burnt beige linen erupted across Sharon’s sternum and above both nipples. Mora got it in the right nipple and the left ribcage, just below the left breast.
After this first pass, Sharon was dead on her feet and beginning a slow slide down the wall behind her. Kim, bent forward, clutched her bleeding belly; blood spurted from her mouth. Mora was turned slightly to her right, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and irregularly.
Dominic concentrated fire on Kim’s tits; eight quick shots repeatedly bounced her off the wall and sent her dead weight sprawling to a face-first landing on the bloody carpet. He next stitched a line straight up Mora. The first two burned harmless holes in the skirt stretched between her legs, but the next five tore through the center of her pubic triangle, navel, solar plexus, throat and forehead. Her knees buckled and she fell straight down, exposing her derringer and the naked pussy above her stay-ups. Sharon continued her slow-motion death slide. Her long blonde hair stuck to the blood on the wall left by the exit wounds. As she came to rest in sitting position, her right knee fell open, showing that she, too, wore a thigh holster and no panties.
The speed and finality of sudden death shocked Sandi and Bettina. Dominic locked eyes with Bettina for a moment. Then he turned to Sandi and pushed the barrel of the Uzi deep into her cleavage. She gasped when the hot metal touched her skin.
With effort, she gathered her wits and tried one last time to charm her killer. It always worked; it had to work. Tears fell from her bright blue eyes. Her lower lip quivered. She reached between Dominic’s legs and stroked his erection. “I would do everything – anything – for you. You wouldn’t kill me, you couldn’t…”
She gripped his dick tightly and suddenly as blood spattered against the back of her chair and across the carpet as the slug went through her. Blood welled rich and red between her breasts and around the barrel of the gun, and flowed freely down the fabric of her little black dress as he slid the weapon out from her cleavage.
She lost her grip on his hard penis and her arm fell limp to her side. In the course of a long, last exhalation, she settled back into her chair. Her shoulders slumped and her head tilted to the left, aiming her death stare at the bloody wall behind the other three dead stewardesses.
Dominic pointed the Uzi’s bloody barrel across the table toward Bettina. She thrust out her chest defiantly and hissed: “Go ahead and shoot, you bastard!”
Dominic smiled and lowered the gun. “No, Bettina, I don’t believe I will. You see, there’s one more complication: I’m a little tired of Leona. I wasn’t planning on taking on a new partner, but I like your style. And a younger woman would be a change of pace.
“Let’s step onto the patio, but be quiet about it. I want to show you something.”
He led her to a corridor and finally outside. He pointed out a short-haired brunet, a distance across the lawn, in a Lissair uniform. She had a gun in her hand as she walked toward the pool. She stopped there and stood gazing into the water.
“Leona?” Bettina asked.
“Yes. She’s about to die. I told her to take up a station there and shoot any girls who try to escape out the patio doors in the bar. She doesn’t know that I set up a deathtrap by the pool. Any moment now, the sensors will pick her up and an automatic gun will kill her.”
Bettina felt a pang; Leona had found her as a teenage runaway in Amsterdam four years before and had brought her into Lissair. If not for Leona, Bettina might well be in jail, dead, or turning tricks on the street. In some ways, Leona had been like a mother to her. But this was war; Leona would have killed her, given the chance. She gripped Dominic’s hand; Bettina was going to watch Leona be killed, then she would take Leona’s man. She smiled to herself and muttered: “Die, bitch.”
The brunet cried out when the first bullet hit her in the left buttock. She arched her back and reached in vain toward the next two wounds, above her left kidney. The fatal shot, directly through the spine and into her heart, blew her into the pool. Dominic and Bettina could see the splash.
He turned the young woman toward him and embraced her tightly and kissed her deeply. “You’re my partner, now, yes?”
She nodded.
“Seal the deal by killing the six stews left in the bar.”
Bettina smiled. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”