Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Later that week, I knew I needed to fulfill the contract. Even without doing my normal background checks, I knew exactly what I had to do. Still, I would have to wait until I got the go ahead from Liam. No, he wasn’t my keeper, but we trusted him to give us the most up-to-date information, so we didn’t make the wrong decision. If there was one thing we were particular about, it was ensuring our contracts were completed with the utmost accuracy.
After I got my bag at the clubhouse, I stopped for some fast food. I needed to eat something because I knew it was probably going to be a rough night ahead.
The client and I planned to meet at his office after we carried the contract out for proof of death. Prior to arriving, I had Liam turn off all the surveillance in the surrounding area and inside the building. All phones in the building, including the client’s cell phone, would be rerouted to a designated number. The person who answered would pretend to be an emergency operator. It was a necessary backup plan we always had in place, just in case our mark escaped.
Just as I pulled up to the office building owned by the client, my phone buzzed.
Liam: Background check clear. It’s a go.
Me: At the site, going dark.
After I responded, I hid my phone in the glove compartment and retrieved my gloves. There was no way I wanted my fingerprints found anywhere near this building. No one could know I was here. I hopped out of the truck and had to hold back a laugh as I thought of how much I couldn’t wait to see the look on the asshole’s face when he realized I was here four hours early.
Using the side door, I entered the building. I walked down the hallway and quietly pushed open the door to his office. They filled the walls of the waiting room to the brim with pictures of babies and posters related to the miracle of childbirth. For a brief moment, concern about the evil stain I was about to leave on the place flashed through my mind. Then I reminded myself about the stench this filth had already permeated the place with.
Could you believe this asshole made a living as an obstetrician?
At least we had a nice sterile environment for me to do my job. Little did he know, almost everything on his wish list was going to happen to him tonight. Prior to coming here, I memorized the floor plan, so I was familiar with all the entrance and exit points, as well as which room was which. I pulled out my gun, and made my way to the closed door I knew led to his personal office, and pushed it open.
He looked up from his paperwork with a smirk. Only a few days earlier we had staged a kidnapping of his wife, but left his children behind as instructed by our client. Normally we wouldn’t do such a thing, but we knew the wife would be returning. As soon as we dealt with this schmuck. At the moment, she was living it large in a penthouse suite, something she deserved for having to put up with him for so long.
His blind arrogance made it impossible for him to see the complete picture. He still hadn’t spotted the gun in my hand. As if finally realizing his fate, his eyes widened as I raised my gun and pointed it at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m here to do a job.”
I could almost hear the rusted out cogs in his brain spinning as his shock turned to rage when he realized the tables had turned and his wife would no longer be the one to die at my hands tonight.
“Now get up!” I commanded, enjoying his flinch at my voice.
I led him at gunpoint into the far examination room, which was next to the emergency exit. Always ensure you had an exit strategy when taking out a target in an office building. Luckily for me, building management was scheduled to do a fumigation tomorrow, so no one expected Doctor Micropenis to come in to work until a week from now. Besides the fumigation, I knew he had scheduled a vacation because he told me earlier at the diner.
“Up on the table.”
“Whatever you want, I’ll double it,” he bargained.
“I already have enough of your money, Doctor. Now, get your ass up on the table.” I pointed the gun at his balls.
“Okay, okay,” he replied, holding up his hands in surrender before getting up on the table.
“Feet in the stirrups.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get your feet in those stirrups like the little bitch that you are.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Now!”
He placed his feet where I directed.
“Secure your left arm with the strap.”
I didn’t want to think about why there were leather straps like they used for psychiatric patients attached to the side of the bed and around the leg stirrups. All I knew was that they would benefit me tonight.
“No way.”
“Do you want me to shoot your dick off?”
“Fuck no, you crazy bitch!” His voice raised a pitch higher. It was as if he already started practicing for when he would be singing in soprano after I was done with him tonight.
“Well, get on with it then.”
He grumbled under his breath as he continued to follow my orders. Once he finished strapping his dominant arm into place, I secured his ankles and his other arm. Time was a-wasting, so I needed to get on with this.
“Did that bitch seriously scrounge up enough money to pay you more than I did?” he spat with ire.
“Nope,” I replied, as I grabbed a pair of his surgical gloves and emphatically snapped them into place. Watching grown men jump in reaction to the abrupt noise never got old. Maybe it made them think of getting a prostate exam?
Who knew?
“Then why are you here when you should do what I paid you to do?”
“See, that’s the thing with men like you,” I tsked.
Cocksuckers like him who believed they were God’s gift to women. The ones who beat or emotionally abuse their loving wife and mother of their children because they thought they had the God given right to. I wouldn’t lose any sleep tonight with one less masochist prick on the planet.
“Oh great,” he groaned. “I hired a feminist.”
“I don’t like men that think they can dictate everything that happens in our lives.” I rolled my eyes. “We sit on your dick once and you think you have the right to control us.”
Before I began, I put on one of his lab coats and medical gloves. Luckily, this was a doctor's office, so there were enough items to prevent the possible biohazard I could come into contact with. Who knew where this scumbag had been dipping his wick. I even found a pair of ear plugs to deafen the noises I knew he was going to make.
Personal protective equipment was a crucial component to any job.
Their hazardous waste disposal process was also top-notch, so I didn’t need to concern myself over the little details. The cleaners could even get in and out in a matter of minutes because they wouldn’t have to haul the evidence away from the scene. They could just throw everything into an incinerator.
First, I ensured the restraints had fully secured him to the examination table, I got down to work. Second, I put one of those ball gags in his mouth, so I didn’t have to listen to his incessant yammering. Next, I pulled my pliers out and extracted each one of his fingernails, excruciatingly, one by one. Then I removed his shoes and socks and repeated the process on his toes.
His hands and feet were now a bloody mess as he trembled and shook. A dash of pain to go with his rage. The cleaners would have their hands full tonight, but that was why they charged the prices they did. Without giving him a moment’s notice, I pulled out my knife and cut his pants and underwear off. As I neared his twig and berries, he twitched, making my knife slice into his thigh.
My blade came away a little bloody.
Oops.
Once I had his clothes completely removed, I looked down to check the damage, which was miniscule. In my haste, I might have sliced him a bit, but it really didn’t matter. There would be a lot more bloodletting tonight. I did, however, notice my prediction regarding his manhood was true.
“Awe, and would you look at that? You really do have a micro-penis!” I informed him, while ignoring his whimpers.
Nothing like a cocksure man being reduced to a snivelling idiot.
Armani suit man was horrifically descriptive in his directions of what he wanted us to do to his wife before we killed her. It wasn’t good enough for us to execute his wife and the mother of his children.
Nope.
He wanted her last moments alive to be filled with unspeakable pain and terror.
So I was going to follow every single one of those details with a twist.
The only thing I wouldn’t do was have the boys gang rape him like he wanted them to do to his wife. Not only that, he wanted it all recorded for prosperity. The fucker probably wanted to whack off while watching what he wanted done to his wife over and over on film, to get his rocks off while a biker gang ran a train on her. Instead, I was going to pull a Hannibal Lector on him and serve his own cock and balls to him for a late-night snack. Hope he enjoyed his prairie oysters raw, cause there wasn’t a hot plate to be had.
What could I say? I was a sick bitch, but I took my job seriously.
I went to work.
I didn’t have a lot of time to waste, so I meticulously carried out the instructions. Working my way up, by the time I was done with him, he would be crying for his mommy. If he hadn’t been restrained, he probably would have been sucking his widdle thumb.
Last, but not least, after I rifled through his office and found everything I needed, I put a bullet into his brain and called for the cleanup crew.
Then I went home, drank a shot of whiskey and slept like a baby, knowing his angel of a wife would still breathe in the morning. Never again would she be forced to visit the hospital and give a false story of falling down the stairs. Her children wouldn’t have to worry about her safety and wouldn’t end up with a monster of a father raising them.
All would be right in her world in the next day when she realized her husband was gone forever.
At the acceptance of a contract, we always had Liam perform a deep dive background check on both the mark and the client. From the information gathered, we decided on who the actual target should be. Depending on the scale of the contract, we might choose to eliminate more than one target.
Judge, jury, and executioners.
This asshole was a perfect example of us switching the mark. He wanted us to kill his wife of fifteen years because she caught him dipping his pen in the company ink. He knew that when she filed for divorce that he would lose his footing in her father’s multinational firm. The company that she inherited, along with a sizeable bank account, would no longer be within his reach. They would likely award her primary custody of the children and grant him every other weekend or limited visitation rights.
With no prenup, he would lose everything.
In the event of her death, he would gain full control of the company and all of her assets. There would be no custody battle and he would be in the clear to do whatever he wanted without repercussions. First, we didn’t take these types of jobs. Second, when we did a thorough background check, we learned that besides cheating on his wife; he had also been beating her senseless for most their marriage.
In the end, I didn’t actually make him eat his own balls. What did you make me for? Some deranged psycho? Did I cut them off? Fuck yes, I did. The bastard wanted his wife and mother of his two children to be brutalized before she got chopped up and fed to pigs.
He deserved all he got, plus a gigantic bag of chips.
The issue of ruining our reputation was negated because we either eliminated our target like they hired us to do, or we removed our client from the equation. We also quietly eliminated anyone who the client might have looped in on the job.
It was sad to say that this wasn’t the first time we were contacted to kill someone’s spouse. Sometimes it was women who called us, but most of the time it was men. Their reasons all boiled down to one of two things, sometimes both: money and infidelity. More often than not, the infidelity lied with the men. Women wanted their husbands dead because they were being unfaithful, and men wanted their wives dead because if their wife found out they were sleeping with their younger secretary, a divorce would be too costly.
This made me think about a call we received a while back from a guy who wanted his wife to be killed and to make sure it looked like an accident. After careful research, I discovered the husband was a couple months away from bankruptcy because of gambling debts. To ease the debts he had incurred, he planned to use the money from recently purchased life insurance for his wife. If his wife’s death was ruled an accident, the policy paid double.
He had talked her into getting the insurance so that their children would be well cared for should anything happen to them. His forethought ensured the family would live comfortably after his untimely demise. It was an unfortunate series of events that led to his brakes failing as he sped around a switchback in the mountains. Some people had more money than brains.
I wasn’t always so calm and collected. The first time I carried out a contract involving execution, I went back to my room at the clubhouse and emptied the contents of my stomach. I was actually surprised I kept it in long enough to make it back there. It was the strangest feeling in the world to understand the true insignificance of a person’s life. In a moment you were here, existing in the world, and the next you were nothing. Sometimes I still got the night sweats. Often I wondered when people looked at me if they knew I did it.
Every contract eventually placed itself safely in the back of my memory bank, and over time, the images of the act always faded to black, but you never truly forgot. Compartmentalization was the only way to get through life, especially when doing what we did.
Yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
If we didn’t do things like I did to this sleazebag tonight, too many innocents would lose their lives.
Even though my line of work was more than a little unsavory, I didn’t believe I was a sociopath. My values and morals were a little more pliable than the next person, but I didn’t start my day set on killing someone. Sometimes it just had to happen. It wasn’t even something that my family expected of me. I could stay in the clubhouse, spend my days managing the bar and never once do anything violent.
But the violence was my favourite part.