Chapter 5 - Blake
BLAKE
I give her overnight. There’s something about this girl that intrigues me. I find myself smiling—smiling!—for no reason when I remember our exchange.
It’s still early when I message her. I have no cool.
Blake
Good morning, hitman.
BunnytheKiller
Gendered assumptions are so 2006.
Blake
About my era.
BunnytheKiller
Old man.
Blake
First era. The second’s even better.
BunnytheKiller
You’re not disco music.
Blake
There are benefits to experience, Bunny.
BunnytheKiller
There are benefits to not having to use a stairlift.
Blake
I have all the stamina you need.
BunnytheKiller
Good to know you’d be a satisfying kill.
Blake
When are you going to attempt that, by the way?
BunnytheKiller
That would be telling.
Blake
Don’t leave it too long. I’ll die of old age just to spite you.
I don’t hear from her for the rest of the day.
And I itch. I enjoy these messages we’re exchanging far too much for my health and sanity.
Repeatedly, I wonder how to find out more about her. My instinct is to call in my entire team one by one—starting with Aaron, who set up this group—and inflict pain until they tell me what I need to know.
But whoever BunnytheKiller is, she isn’t part of my world. She could be a sister, daughter, friend. Girlfriend even, of one of my men.
Wife.
I don’t allow myself to dwell on that, because the idea makes me want to kill every man in my organisation to ensure she’s free to be mine. Seems like an overreaction, but the instinct is strong.
If she were my wife, I’d rather every person in London, including myself, were ended than anything happened to her. And an assurance from me that the kingpin of Norwood won’t shoot her wouldn’t hold weight.
I’m impulsive. I’ve been brutal. And when I’m bored, I’m far too liable to kill.
More to the point, even if they don’t care about Bunny, they could lie to save their own skin.
This was an almighty fuck up. Bunny was added to a closed and exclusive group with a secret mission that, if any part of it got out, including its mere existence, could get us all killed by the Essex Cartel. However loyal my men are, the sane thing would be to deny all knowledge to me.
Fuck.
Past me has some serious explaining to do about how I fucked up this situation.
I guess I just didn’t realise I would ever meet someone I wanted to protect.
I poke around her profile on the TelUBox app but there’s nothing. I even search online about how to get through the security. Zero. The reason we’re using it is that it’s impenetrable.
I think about her every waking minute. I read our messages repeatedly, like a love-sick puppy, not a deadly mafia boss of forty years old.
The next day, I message her again.
Blake
Good morning, murderer.
BunnytheKiller
Harsh.
Blake
Is it not accurate?
BunnytheKiller
Murder is for amateurs. Professionals kill or dispose of.
Blake
Is that so?
BunnytheKiller
I will also accept “cancel their oxygen subscription”.
I snort.
Blake
I’d say that was ridiculous, but sometimes I’ve had more difficulty changing my phone provider than having someone put down.
BunnytheKiller
Are you sure not because you were trying to do it via carrier pigeon or “CD-rom”?
Blake
Those are from slightly different time periods, you naughty bunny.
BunnytheKiller
Sorry, read about both in a book on ancient history.
Blake
You’re an enthusiast, then? I have something older that you can study.
BunnytheKiller
Don’t flatter yourself.
Blake
What are you doing today, disposer of humans?
BunnytheKiller
Normal, assassin things.
Blake
You’re watching cat videos, aren’t you?
BunnytheKiller
Cats are the ultimate inspiration.
Blake
Delightful little bloody murderers.
Since she won’t reply, and the excess of space and quiet in my house is unbearable, I get a cat.
I consider a rabbit, but apparently they chew cables if they live inside.
When I ask, the rescue centre says black cats are the unwanted ones.
I agree to take one. A fluffy, pitch-black kitten with green eyes arrives, complete with toys and a bed she turns up her nose at, but is pretty comfortable when I sit in it.
But I am the bed of choice, as the killer kitten climbs up my body with tiny pin claws and curls up in the crook of my neck.
It doesn’t help the absence in my chest. A weird gap that I haven’t noticed before. The kitten is nice, but I still wake the next morning thinking about the girl I’m messaging.
Blake
Good morning, Death’s Apprentice.
BunnytheKiller
Yes, that has some class.
Blake
Pity. I’ll strike that off the list of potential names for my new kitten.
BunnytheKiller
You have a cat?
See, this is why I got a pet. Genius. Now I get to be considered adorable by association.
I send a photo of the kitten, who is ignoring all the toys I bought her and instead playing with the shell casing from the bullet I used for my first kill.
She saw it last night when she was exploring on my desk, and was immediately obsessed.
She’s definitely a mafia cat.
BunnytheKiller
She’s adorable.
Blake
I feel more inspired already. Though I haven’t chosen a name yet. What do you think?
BunnytheKiller
What’s a traditional mafia name for a cat?
Blake
I’m not sure there is one. Fluffy? Bella? Princess of Darkness?
BunnytheKiller
Sounds like she’s an assassin.
Blake
She’s showing signs. That bullet casing is her favourite toy.
What shall we name the killer cat?
BunnytheKiller
A true assassin has no name, right? An anonymous murderer.
Blake
A-kitten-has-no-name.
BunnytheKiller
You have a future in cat content creation. In case you want a change of job.
It’s a nice opening, and I take it.
Blake
Are you thinking of giving up your present vocation? I’ll lend you my kitten if you want a change.
BunnytheKiller
You can’t just pass off your kitten on me! What if I’m an unsuitable person to care for an animal?!
Blake
What, like an assassin? Or a mafia boss?
BunnytheKiller
Mafia bosses do have a history of being bad at pet ownership. See the previously mentioned horses.
Blake
Be grateful I got a kitten and not a hippo.
BunnytheKiller
Yeah, definitely couldn’t accept a hippo as a pet. Impractical in an apartment.
A tiny snippet of information about her, and I hoard it.
Blake
You can come to my house and share my kitten any time you like. Speaking of which, when are you visiting me?
BunnytheKiller
Attempting to lure me to my death with a kitten won’t work.
Blake
Are you sure?
I send another picture, this one from last night when she’s curled on my chest.
Yes, I took photos.
I didn’t realise this was why.
BunnytheKiller
That’s not playing fair.
Blake
You’re scared.
BunnytheKiller
I am not scared.
But I don’t mentally scar innocents.
Blake
No? I think watching us together would be fine for our kitten.
BunnytheKiller
She’s your kitten. Not mine.
Blake
You’re concerned about her welfare. Not typical assassin behaviour.
BunnytheKiller
I’m in the business of permanently problem solving people, but I’m not a monster.
Blake
Why are you a professional unaliver?
An especially important question, given that I’m very sure she isn’t anything of the sort.
BunnytheKiller
For fun. For thrills.
Why are you a mafia boss?
Blake
Same. Thrills.
BunnytheKiller
What do you find most thrilling about your job?
Blake
The spreadsheets.
BunnytheKiller
Thank you for that. I’ll be sending you the bill for the carpet cleaning after my tea snorted from my nose as I laughed.
Blake
Third de-tea burns, too?
BunnytheKiller
Yeah, that’s not funny. Why do you have spreadsheets?
Blake
All jobs devolve to using spreadsheets as you get higher up.
BunnytheKiller
Even the mafia?
Blake
How do you suppose I keep track of who I’m having murdered and who I’m hiring to do it?
BunnytheKiller
Don’t want to mix those two up.
So that’s all? No interest in unaliving, power, wealth, and illegal activities? Just—yay spreadsheets?
Blake
Honestly, Bunny, I’m bored.
I took over Norwood because my father expected it of me. I was born into this role. And there’s no one to share it with.
Except, it seems, her. I’ve never told anyone this.
Blake
The weight of responsibility is heavy sometimes.
Often.
BunnytheKiller
Of being what your father expects of you?
Blake
Expected. He’s dead. But yes.
BunnytheKiller
My family expects something of me that I’m not really either.
Blake
They pushed you into your profession?
BunnytheKiller
You could say that. There was never any option.
Blake
What would you do if you could do anything?
BunnytheKiller
I’d like to do a creative writing degree. Maybe write a book?
Blake
Come over. We’ll talk about making that happen, Bunny.
There’s a pause. She could bite. I can feel the potential, the temptation, hovering in the air.
Blake
You can trust me.
She sends a series of twenty laughing emojis and my heart bleeds out like she shot my chest.
BunnytheKiller
What about you? What would you like to do if you had absolute freedom?
Not the response I wanted, but it stems the flow of blood. She hasn’t agreed to meet me, hasn’t even acknowledged my invitation. But she’s done something else that I didn’t know I was missing. Despite her understandable cynicism about my intentions, she’s curious about me.
Every single person in my life has assumed that all I would ever want would be the Norwood mafia. I wasn’t a kid who dreamed of being a fireman when I grew up. By the time I understood the concept, I knew I’d be the mafia boss of Norwood. Go into the “family business”.
I’m a billionaire. It’s assumed I have everything. That I already have all the freedom I could desire.
Except this girl somehow knows that I’m trapped in this job as she is in hers—whatever it is. Because it’s not for-hire killing, and it’s not creative writing. I think that part is true—that she longs to express her artistic side.
If her messages are any indication, she’d be a brilliant author.
I’d buy the books myself to ensure her success.
I realise that instead of thinking about what I’d like to do if I could, I’ve been sitting here with my phone in my hand, wondering how I could make my bunny happy.
It’s an answer neither of us is ready for.
Blake
I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that.
BunnytheKiller
I’m all about providing once-in-a-lifetime experiences for people.
Blake
Death isn’t quite the beautiful unique event that bungee jumping or going on a cruise is.
BunnytheKiller
Is that what you’d like to do, if you could? Go on cruises?
Blake
I’m not that old.
BunnytheKiller
So? What would you do?
Blake
I’ll get back to you.
I think about it for the rest of the day. And all I come up with is that the only thing that makes me feel alive—and has in decades—is her.
I send another picture of a-kitten-has-no-name to Bunny in the morning.
Blake
Good morning, hired gun.
BunnytheKiller
Limiting, don’t you think? I use other weapons as well.
Or perhaps objectifying.
Blake
Agreed. I don’t like that one, either.
How about terminator?
BunnytheKiller
I don’t know whether that sounds like an old movie or someone who deals with cockroaches.
Blake
I refute that Terminator is an old movie, but I do have a Fred Astaire vibe.
BunnytheKiller
Is that a brand of insect repellent?
Blake
It’s bunny attractant. Like the kitten.
When are you coming over to deal with the infestation?
BunnytheKiller
When you make it sound less gross.
Understandable.
I sigh and run my hand frustratedly through my hair. We’ve been playing this game for days now.
It’s enjoyable, but not enough. And the part of me that fixes problems with money or power is becoming increasingly impatient.
Bunny is my obsession, and I crave more. Her strict rationing goes against all my instincts.
How can I move this along?
My phone buzzes and I jump on it, my shoulders slumping when I see it’s the project manager for the Essex Cartel hit.
Aaron
Steve from Mayfair is sending us that bullet we talked about via Paddington Station, so we can identify if it’s from the same gun as was used against us last week from the marks on the casing. Can you authorise me to pick it up, or would you rather go yourself?
I blink.
Ohhhh shit. Of course.
I’m an idiot.
She’s been portraying herself as an asset, and I’ve dealt with her as my girl. Flirting. Teasing. Inviting her over without even money up front. Having fun, and thinking I could talk her around and charm her.
But I’ve gone about this all wrong.
I’m not taking her seriously, and I should. I absolutely must. She deserves my best work, and to respect her as a professional.
I message Aaron to let him know that I’ll deal with the pick-up, and open the app run by the Paddington Station mafia.
It’s an anonymous handover method, a cross between a drop box, and a money transfer service.
The ultimate way to pay or exchange items. And the Paddington mafia scrupulously guarantees anything that passes through his organisation.
Mostly, the Norwood mafia is a tight group who don’t use this facility, because we hire direct. But I have access.
I set up a drop for Bunny, going through all the security. She’ll need to pick up the money in person, and there will be no way for me to track her.
Blake
I’ve got a proposal for you.
Blake
I’ll give you half up front for meeting with me to discuss a job.
BunnytheKiller
Discuss?
Blake
Just to talk. No commitment to do the neutralisation.
BunnytheKiller
I’m listening.
Blake
I assume you’ve used Paddington Station. I’ve sent you the money.
The message goes read, and there’s a longer pause.
BunnytheKiller
I’ll consider it.
My guess is that she is reading up. I fidget like a kid waiting for Christmas. I’m excited. This could work.
BunnytheKiller
So I pick up the money from Paddington Station, and in exchange, we have a conversation.
Blake
In person. No digital trail.
BunnytheKiller
I never do in person. We can message.
Blake
Messages aren’t enough, Bunny. And they leave an unambiguous record.
BunnytheKiller
My rules are here for both of our protection.
Blake
On video call then. Far more deniable.
BunnytheKiller
Voice. Voice only.
I grin. She’s going to talk to me.
I’ll take it.