HiT 149: Anna Brookes First Chapter (5 page)

The man came in and sat down opposite me. The two try hard body guards stand behind him at the couch, looking me straight in the eye. One guard leans over to the other and makes a remark. Undoubtedly about me, because I hear the word ‘woman’. The other guard snickers. When will these boys learn? And with that my Glock is in my hand and that guard is down. One bullet is all it took. By the time the second has reacted I have one of my Glocks pointed to him and the other Glock pointed to my potential ‘employer’. I’m still sitting down. Guard number 2, now promoted to guard number 1 has his semi-automatic pointed to me. ‘Employer’ raises his hand halting any action guard 1 wants to take.

“Now now now,” I say, “I took him out easily. If you think you can let off one round before I put a fucking bullet through your fucking head then please I encourage you to have a go” I’m daring him to defy me.

“I apologise for the disrespect you have been shown here today Miss???” says the man sitting on the couch. He is wearing a suit. It’s fitted to his body. He’s not bad looking. Early 50’s. Slightly greying hair on the sides. Short neat hair style. He turns slightly to guard 1 and says “It’s fine here. Put it away” and turns back to me. No one tells me what I do so both my Glocks are still pointed at these two. Guard 1 holsters his weapon. Good decision, obviously he doesn’t want to die today.

“15. There are no names exchanged, Just information.” I’m cold and emotionless. I put my Glocks on either side of my body. I look back to guard 1 who is eyeing me with hate. “To answer your question, I am that good. You will never disrespect me again, because you will not be able to take a single breath if you attempt it”. I turn to my potential new employer and say “let’s get to business”. Essentially I am ending all conversation that may have come from guard 1.

“2 million dollars. 1 million is in this account and 1 million when the target has been eliminated.” He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and leans in to give it to me. Usually 2 million is my fee, but now I’m pissed off. They call for a meeting and then try to disrespect me. My fee has now just gone up.

“No, 2 million is only my fee when I am not pissed off and disrespected. Your men opened their mouths in a way that is not acceptable. My fee has been increased to 3 million. 2 million now and 1 million when I finish”. My façade is in place and I don’t even blink when I give Suit man my number.

Suit man turns to his guard. Shakes his head. Pulls his phone out. Does what he needs to do on his phone and looks up at me. I know I have just signed guard 1’s death warrant. He is not that good to keep around after what has happened. Suit man opens his mouth and goes to say something but stops himself. He squints his eyes to me like he is thinking something but doesn’t know how to say it. Maybe he’s scared I’ll put a bullet in his head. I would if he said the wrong thing. He opens his mouth and clears his throat. “I think I could use you on my staff,” he sort of screws his mouth up once he says that.

I’m considering what to say to him. He needs to know that in this building, on this day at this very moment, it’s not him who is in control. I am. I don’t care who he is or what he has done. I am in control. “If the next words that leave your mouth are not either ‘I accept your offer or I decline your offer’ then I would be saying nothing at all.” Essentially I’ve just told him where he can shove his fucking job.

Suit man again twists his mouth and narrows his eyes. He is scared shitless of me. He knows no matter who is here with him, it’s not going to stop me killing him. So he does the only thing he can.

“2 million has been transferred to this account, 1 million will be in there once the confirmation has been received that the problem has been exterminated”. He stands and gives me the paper with the bank details. I call my contact through my blue tooth. I rattle off the numbers that have been given to me. My eyes still addressing my ‘employer’ and his guard. I wait for the ok from my contact. That money has now been moved into accounts that no one will ever be able to find. I light the piece of paper on fire and it’s so small it disintegrates almost immediately.

“Target,” I put my hand out waiting for the envelope with all the information and a visual on my next hit. The A4 envelope is placed in my hand. And with that I stand and leave.

As I’m walking out of the room Suit man turns and says to me “When will this problem be settled?”

“When I’m done you will know” and I continue walking.

I get to the apartment garage and stop the car before I pull the information out of the A4 envelope. The first thing I pull out is the photo, but I’ve pulled out with the back facing me. I turn it around and FUCK ME!

FUCK!!!!

FUCK!!!!

Fuck!

Chapter 8

This can’t be right. I’m staring at a picture of Ben Pearson. This cannot be right. This CAN NOT be right. What the fuck! I decide I can’t look at this in the garage. I put it away and quickly go up into the apartment. I immediately take the photo and information out of the envelope and look at it. Yes, it’s Ben Pearson. My Ben Pearson from last night. The information confirms it.

Name: Ben Adrian Pearson

Occupation: Police Chief St Cloud PD

DOB: 6/6/80

Address: 2022 Lionsgate Road – St Cloud.

WHAT THE FUCK! Lionsgate Road?? That was where Henry and I lived. That was the same street our home was on. I don’t remember a 2022 though. What the fuck is happening here. I drop the paper and it floats to the floor. I back away from it and find the cold wall on my back and I slide down. I bring my knees up and my head falls into my hands that are resting on my knees. I can’t stop thinking about this. What is happening? How is this happening? Ben Pearson my next target. Can I do it? Is it possible for me to do this? I’m literally shaking, my stomach is knotting and I think I’m going to throw up. I jump up and run to the bathroom and lose all the contents of my stomach. My heart is palpitating but this time it’s not for the same reason it was before.

I’m feeling one thing.

Fear.

Not for me but for Ben.

What am I going to do? If I don’t take him out, the target will be on me
and
someone else will come and take him out. What do I do?

I’ve been sitting in the bathroom trying to decide what to do. I’m not sure how much of the day I’ve been sitting in here for. Slowly my heart beat returns to a normal rate. I think I know what I need to do. First thing is to get back to St Cloud and see if this 2022 Lionsgate Road where Ben lives is where I think it is. This target is going to be a little more difficult than what I have ever done before. Not difficult in a way that I won’t be able to get to him, because let’s face it I can get to anyone. But difficult in a way that once my finger is on that trigger it’ll be a shot I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to take. I’ve never had any issues with any target in my 13 years. But Hit 149, also known as Ben Adrian Pearson will be my most difficult. I’m just not sure that I’ll be able to bring myself to taking that fatal shot.

I lift myself from the bathroom and I head into the bedroom. It’s 2pm now and I know where my travels will take me. Minnesota. More specifically, St Cloud. Even more specifically, home. I get my suitcase out and start packing the few things I need to take with me. My mind is still racing about this hit. I will stay at the cabin in the woods just outside of St Cloud. I bought it a few years back. I’ve never actually stayed there yet, but I thought it would come in handy if I had to lay low for any period of time. It’s not fitted out like any of my other properties. The only thing I have done to it is to build that safe room – the steel box. Just like all my others, it doesn’t house the artillery that the others have -
yet.
The trip from Salt Lake City to Minnesota takes 16 hours with no traffic. I won’t fly because I need to bring my babies with me. So I’ll stock my car. I think I’ll take the BMW. There’s enough room in the BMW to house everything I need. I will stop half way there and sleep for the night. But I’ll need to find a hotel that has secure parking. I’m not leaving any of the sniper rifles or Glocks or Colts in the BMW for anyone to get to. They are what I need for work so they come with me. My other apartments all have safe rooms that house weapons so I don’t need to lug my babies around. The only ones that are always on me or near me are my beautiful Glocks. The 2 I’ve had custom made, they have a shiny smooth gold body and a pink mother of pearl grip. They sit in my hand perfectly and they look awesome. Because they were made to order for me, they also cost me a great amount of money. More than they ordinarily would. But I don’t care. I’m a Glock girl. They were my first gun and they are what I want. They have never misfired or jammed and they have never caused me a problem.

I’ve been driving for a while and I’m on the inside of South Dakota border. I’ll be stopping soon. I’m so tired. And all I have done is think about this whole fucked up situation. There are road signs to Minnesota and I keep thinking that if I just take a different turn off I’ll be able to spare Ben Pearson his life. But what I do know is that, if I turn off, if I detour, Ben Pearson is dead anyway. Because someone else will come for him. If he is to die, he is to die by my hand. I won’t let someone else kill him. I won’t let someone else make him suffer. I will do it. I will make it as quick as possible. I won’t have him in pain. I won’t let his family suffer. I’ll make it look like an accident, but he will die fast. I’m approaching a place called Wolf Creek. I need to find a bed because my head is not coping. Wolf Creek. Wasn’t that an Australian movie some years back about a crazy arse dude that goes on a killing spree in outback Australia??? Sounds like the right place for me to find a home for my head tonight. I’m at Wolf Creek and it looks nothing like it belongs in that movie. I drive down the main street and it appears bubbling and lively. I don’t see a hotel that has any sort of garage where I could leave the BMW though. I pull over and look up on my GPS and find that there’s a hotel chain 2 streets over, Embassy Suites. I drive around to find that’s exactly what I need. I gain access to the garage by saying I’ll be a guest at the hotel tonight and make my way to reception. Its 6pm in the evening and even though it’s not late I have been driving for the last 7 hours and am tired.

“Good evening madam, welcome to the Embassy Suites have you got a reservation?” There’s a young lady behind the counter. She looks mid-twenties. Hair perfectly done. Nails manicured. She eyes me up and down very slightly. Oh my goodness love, I’m not here to steal your boyfriend away. I just need a bed I think to myself!

“No reservation. Have you any suites available?” I say. My façade has slipped on. My cold demeanour is back.

Reception girl taps away on her computer and looks up at me through her eye lashes. Even though she’s been sizing me up, she must be under the impression that I am unable to afford a room here. People keep making assumptions about me and that’s fine, because they are ALWAYS wrong. “Yes Mam, however we only have the Presidential Suite or we have the Jackson Room. The Jackson Room is comfortable with a queen bed, kitchenette but no balcony.” She stops there and doesn’t go on to tell me anything about the Presidential Suite.

I huff at her, shake my head, roll my eyes and give her a look of ‘
are you fucking kidding me’
. She really doesn’t know a thing about me. Good in one way, but come on little girl you don’t treat people like that. With my shoulders back I look her straight in the eye. I pull out one of my credit cards with an alias and put it on the counter. “Presidential Suite please”.

“Madam the cost of the Presidential Suite is $2000 a night,” she says trying to shock me.

I’ve had it with this bitch. Behind me 2 business men have made their way over and are now standing and waiting to speak with her for whatever reason. She must think she’s going to score with one of them, or maybe she’s just trying to impress them. Either way she’s just about to be put in her place. I sneak a look at the men and they are half smirking and eyeing my butt. It seems a girl like me in her jeans, hoody and vans doesn’t belong in a place like this. This is where my coldest and rudest personality comes out and I become 15, but without my Glocks, or violence. I’m not going to kill someone for something like this. She’s not a threat to me, just a stupid girl trying to impress 2 men. “I would be keen to speak to the owner of this establishment so I can negotiate the purchase price and have you tossed out on your arse. You assume you know me little girl, but what I know about you is that you live at home with Mommy and Daddy, you can’t afford a car to drive here and take public transport and you are doing everything in your power to find yourself a rich man to take care of you. How do I know these things about you? Easy. I keep my mouth shut and my eyes open. If you did the same thing you would see that the men you are so desperately trying to please will use you for only one reason. They are here for a business meeting and have left their wives at home. How do I know??? Wedding rings in their pocket, faint line on their wedding finger. They aren’t interested in you other than to fuck you. Now give me the damn room and watch how you speak. You know nothing about people. Do I make myself clear or do I need to call your boss?”

Reception girls face drops and she swallows a loud gulp. Her eyes fill with tears, her bottom lip starts to quiver her hands are shaking. She’s all but slumped over her keyboard. She’s certainly embarrassed by her rude and condescending behaviour towards me. “No Mam. Calling my boss is not necessary. I apologise for my behaviour. The Presidential Suite it is.” She takes a deep breath and pulls herself together. However at no time does she make eye contact with me. She takes my credit card off the counter and looks at it then swipes it. I give credit where is credit is due. She seems to have regained herself..... for now. She’ll probably crack down and cry once she serves me and the 2 business men behind me. “Thank you Miss Smith. The Presidential Suite in on the second last floor, level 4. There are 2 rooms on that floor and yours is on the left.” She says as she hands me the key but still not making any eye contact.