Posted by Extranjero on October 06, 2003 at 12:51:23:
WET WORK
She stepped up to the empty pool and stared into the glowing gulf of water.
The hall was hushed, deserted under bright fluorescent lights. Her Speedo goggles glinted on her forehead. She pulled them into place and let her arms drop to her sides, her slender body poised and motionless. The pool was big: Olympic-size. She felt the pull from deep beneath the surface. Sinead began to topple, then plunged forward like a spear, and sliced into the warm and weightless depths.
After all the killing, it was easy to feel clean.
She swooped on wings of bubbles, grazed the bottom and rose up, her muscles rippling as she sought the surface. Her one-piece costume hugged her curves, a sheath of sapphire blue. It fitted her so well, she could forget she had it on and fancy she was swimming in the nude. She broke the surface smoothly and began to butterfly, a graceful head-down gesture in each stroke. Reaching the far end, she took the handrail and hung on, her strong legs flexing lazily beneath her. Her short hair had grown darker, slicked back wetly from her face. The drops on her dark goggles seemed to hang like unshed tears.
Sinead stretched languidly and smiled. She liked to swim most days, it was her favourite exercise. A useful skill for work, as well; she thought of her last hit. The victim had been staying on a yacht in the marina. Sinead had swum out in the dark and climbed aboard the boat in dripping silence. The girl she’d come to kill had looked pathetically surprised to find a speargun pointing at her tits. A posh bitch in a short silk robe, her green eyes wide with fear. Sinead had squeezed the trigger with professional detachment. The girl’s last squeal still echoed in her mind.
Dipping her head, she started back again with slow breast strokes. The water was a bath of liquid light. A few more lengths, a steaming shower, then home to the clean linen of her bed. No-one who’d grown up with her would guess what she did now.
Sinead was with the Sleepshop, a small agency of female contract killers. People came to them for jobs that called for infiltration or seduction. She’d learned to shoot with the police, but had no qualms about her new profession. The money was a plus, of course – but so was the excitement. She liked to travel business class and pit her wits against protected targets.
She reached the wall and turned again. Her breasts strained at her costume as she swam. The rhythm was relaxing, but some instinct niggled her. She always came here late and swam in blissful solitude, but tonight the empty hall was almost spooky. Reaching the far end, she paused. The stillness weighed on her. Her hand slid down reflexively to touch her tender groin.
One more length. She came back down the pool with easy strokes. Ploughing under, bobbing up, as streamlined as a seal. Her folded towel was waiting at the poolside. She touched the wall, reached up to place her hand on it – and froze.
A woman’s dainty feet were on the tiles in front of her, the toenails manicured and painted red. Sinead stared for a moment, then looked up reluctantly. The newcomer wore pinstripe pants, a matching tailored jacket, and a bodysuit that clung to every curve. Her high-heeled shoes were dangling from her left hand. Her right hand aimed a pistol at Sinead.
“Enjoy your swim?” Sophia asked. Her dark eyes brimmed with glee. Sinead stared back and felt her heart start thudding. Sophia was a spoilt cow, her rival at the Shop. Good looks out of Country Life, and all the smugness of a cream-fed cat. Her chunky automatic was a Sig-Sauer 226. Sinead knew she was good with it and wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
“Till you showed up,” she muttered, and glanced over to her left. It came as no surprise to see that Caitlin was here too. The girl wore an ankle-length black coat, unbuttoned to reveal tight shorts and sports bra. Those were black as well, with just a Nike swoosh across her bulging breasts. Doc Marten boots encased her feet. Her tousled raven hair curled round her face. She was cradling some kind of sub-machine gun in both hands.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, then?” Sinead asked scathingly. She looked to her right, saw Rachel here as well. Typical of Sophia to bring her lapdogs to the party. Rachel was a slender girl with russet-coloured hair and clear blue eyes. Her thigh-length coat and pencil skirt were best Italian leather. Her coat was open too; she wore a black lace bra beneath it. A Glock pistol was pushed into her belt. Like Caitlin she wore shiny DM boots that gripped the tiles.
“Remember your last hit?” Sophia crooned. “Well, the girl had a rich daddy with connections. He’s paying us a double fee to terminate your contract.” She smiled sweetly down the sights. “The Shop wouldn’t give you up, of course. We look after our own.”
Sinead’s lip curled sardonically. “I knew you were a Sauer-puss,” she said.
“Those goggles make you look so cool,” Sophia taunted back. She gestured with her pistol. “Something else our client said … Apparently his daughter had some diamonds that went missing. I think you might know something about that.”
Sinead didn’t answer. Her hand still rested on the towel. Her fingers twitched. Sophia’s finger flexed around her trigger.
“A little nest-egg, eh, Sinead? In case you ever want to quit the Shop? We’ve been through your apartment, but no luck. Perhaps you’d like to tell us where you’ve stashed them?”
“Why should I?” Sinead asked. Her tone was sulky.
“This clip has fifteen rounds in it. You want the first to kill you, or the last?”
Sinead swallowed. “Yeah. Okay. You going to let me up?”
“It’s going to be much cleaner if you stay there.”
“Guess it will,” Sinead replied, and pulled a pistol from her folded towel. She fired it steeply upward, and the bullet struck Sophia in the groin. It hit the fabled G-spot in the girl’s vaginal wall, and corkscrewed fiercely up into her core.
Sophia jack-knifed forward with a throaty sob of shock. She’d thought the G-spot was a myth, but now she felt it blaze through every nerve. Below her, Sinead bent her legs and thrust off from the side. Surging back, she blazed up at Sophia. Her pistol was a 9mm Beretta, hair-trigger now the first round had been fired. The bullets pierced Sophia’s breasts and ploughed into her midriff. The string of brutal impacts kept her flailing in the air. Sinead’s legs chopped the water as she scudded on her back, using her momentum to steady her aim. The gun kept blasting, booming through the silence of the hall. Sophia’s body crumpled like a bird shot from the sky, and plunged into the pool in Sinead’s wake.
The lapdogs stood and gawked for half a second - then squealed with spite and went for their own guns. Sinead twirled like a synchro-swimmer, shooting at them both. Caitlin ducked, then dropped full length, her bulky gun unfired. Rachel slumped down awkwardly, still pumping her own trigger. The thunder of the pistols bounced and swelled off walls and water. Sinead surface-dived and glided down towards the bottom of the pool. She saw the twists of bubbles as the bullets followed her.
Caitlin scrambled up again. She flipped her weapon’s switch to automatic. “I’ll take her with this!” she called across, but Rachel shook her head. The russet-headed girl was flushed, her breasts pulsating in their lace cocoon. She stepped up to the water’s edge and peered into the depths.
“There’s no hurry. Let her wait. She’ll come up begging for one last breath of air.” Sinead was a distorted shape, still lurking at the centre of the pool. Rachel looked across to where Sophia had gone in. A murky cloud of blood was spreading there. Turning back, she fired towards Sinead with childish anger. The bullets spattered water, but the bitch had gone too deep for them to touch.
Crouching on the bottom, Sinead watched the trail of bubbles from each shot. The rounds came in slow motion and she dodged them easily. Spent shells from her own gun were still sinking to the tiles. The waterlogged Beretta lay abandoned at her feet.
Her chest felt tight, but she had lots of breath left. She willed her pounding heart to slow its pace. Flattening herself, she glided over to the drain. The loaded speargun lay where she had left it. Sinead was smart: she’d read the signs and known something was brewing. Hence the pistol in her towel, and this piece of insurance in the pool.
She took hold of the streamlined gun, her fingers closing round the pistol grip. She reckoned that refraction would obscure it just enough. That and Rachel’s bullets which kept breaking up the surface of the pool …
“Come on, then,” Rachel muttered. She loosed off another shot. Spouting water sparkled in the harsh glare of the lights. Sinead stared at the bullet, drawing angles in her mind. Then she powered upward from the tiles.
Rachel saw her warped form start to rise towards the surface. She licked her lips and brought her pistol up. Sinead was swimming blindly, right towards her. The bitch was clearly desperate for air. Rachel’s finger tightened on the trigger. She might give Sinead time to whoop, before she punctured both her straining lungs.
Even as she smiled in expectation, Sinead came bursting up into the light. She reared back with the speargun braced and triggered it snap-shot. The spear flew straight at Rachel with a harsh, pneumatic hiss. The girl’s blue eyes grew huge but there was no time to react. The barbed point hit her just below the sternum, and punched straight through to pierce her leather coat. Rachel croaked, convulsing as it shuddered to a stop. The unfired pistol jumped out of her grasp. Sinead was falling back, but saw the panic turn to pain on Rachel’s face. She cried aloud, her firm tits almost bulging from her bra. Sinead could hear her wailing as the foaming water closed over her head.
She plunged towards the bottom as the speargun fell away. Two down and one to go, but nailing Caitlin would be tricky. She swam along the gleaming tiles in search of her Beretta. It might not even work after immersion in the pool, but she didn’t really have a lot of choice.
Above her, Caitlin’s eyes were fixed on Rachel. The stricken girl had staggered back against the poolside seats, still clutching at the rod that skewered her. Her legs splayed open as she slumped, her tight skirt stretching wide to show her briefs. She screwed her pretty face up like a girl about to come, then wilted and lay shamelessly in death.
Rage pumped into Caitlin’s head. She gripped her weapon tight. Sinead’s form bulged and rippled like a mirage in the depths. Caitlin aimed at her and squeezed her trigger. The lightweight rifle juddered with a muffled, thudding hiss.
Sinead had seen her pistol and was powering towards it when a spiky spray of bubbles barred her way. She reared and back-tracked hastily. Those weren’t like normal bullets. They zipped down through the water and rebounded off the tiles. She twisted like an eel and started swimming at a tangent. Another stream of bright projectiles streaked down like the sun’s rays through a cloud. Again she spasmed away from them, then swung back round to look. A five-inch steel dart was tumbling slowly through the water. She stared at it, eyes wide behind her goggles.
Oh God, it was an APS – a Russian underwater assault rifle. Even as she whirled, her mind was accessing the file. A special forces weapon, like a strange Kalashnikov, which fired darts from standard cartridges. Hence the outsize magazine. She should have spotted it …
Sinead’s heart picked up speed again, and now she felt the ache between her breasts. She had to snatch another gulp of air. Of course she’d be a sitting duck the moment that she surfaced – unless she had a weapon to fight back with. The Beretta was barred to her – but maybe Rachel’s Glock was in the pool. She thrust away from Caitlin, peering through the bluish gloom. And yes, the gun was lying at the bottom of the wall. Sinead swam hard towards it with her heartbeat getting louder in her head. Her chest felt close to bursting. She had only moments left.
Suddenly the water just erupted in her face, as if a hidden depth charge had gone off. Sinead recoiled, flailing, as the bubbles seethed around her. The silver cloud dispersed and she saw Caitlin in the water: the girl had run around the pool and jumped into her path. She’d ditched her coat and floated there in boots and shorts and sports bra, her dark hair swirling thickly round her face. She squinted through the water at Sinead. Her gun was braced.
Sinead’s heart bounced against her ribs. She kicked, but there was nowhere she could go. The rifle coughed a throbbing burst of bubbles right towards her. The cloud was laced with wicked five-inch darts.
The needle points were made to pierce wetsuits. Sinead’s Adidas costume was no contest. She felt a white-hot stabbing in the muscles of her belly and shuddered as the darts drove into her. Her mouth gaped in a silent scream; the speech bubbles that blurted out were empty. Caitlin kept on firing with implacable resolve. Sinead’s spine arched - her head flipped back - her anguish blinded her. Her soft breasts turned to pin-cushions, the needles sinking deep into her flesh. She clawed at them, still wriggling - then crumpled as her punctured organs failed. She slumped and hung suspended in the water, her goggles staring blankly as her hands slid off her tits. A gauzy veil of blood curled round her corpse.
Caitlin’s boots touched bottom and she thrust back to the surface. She gasped and ploughed the wet hair from her face. Sinead had surfaced too and floated limply on her face. The darts had not gone through her, and her smooth back was unmarked.
The APS was empty. Caitlin put it on the side, and hauled the dead girl’s body from the pool. She stripped the riddled costume off the unresisting corpse, while Sinead’s goggles gazed towards the ceiling. The darts were buried in her, and the holes were almost bloodless. It looked like she’d been stabbed to death with sharpened knitting needles.
The velvet pouch of jewellery was tucked into her pussy. Caitlin gently teased it out, and stroked the pink lips closed. Sinead’s face stayed blank, her mouth an O. Caitlin rolled her over and she flopped into the pool.
Caitlin picked her rifle up, retrieved her coat and walked towards the doorway. The click of boots on tiles faded slowly in the silence of the hall.