Chapter 5
Ashley
“Old habits die hard.” I shrug and put on an innocent face. “It was stronger than I was. The guy was hot and funny, but he was also a player. You know what I think about guys like that. I had to put him in his place.”
“So you stole his wallet?” Zoe flops down on the couch and bursts out laughing. “You’re something else.”
“What can I say? You can leave the streets, but the streets will never leave you.”
My sister’s face suddenly clouds over as she remembers where we come from. Maybe not literally, but life on the streets... Life by the rules of the streets was a huge part of growing up.
Zoe clears her throat. “So, who’s this poor guy?”
I walk over to her and toss a black wallet onto her lap. She examines it closely. “Not bad. Tom Ford. This story is off to a promising start.” Then she opens it and looks into each section. Pulling out a wad of bills, she starts to count.
“Fourteen hundred. Don’t bother,” I add. “When you have a moment, please check the owner. I don’t want any surprises down the road.”
Her wide eyes stare at me. “Who carries that kind of cash these days?” she asks.
“Looks like a guy named Elijah Montgomery.”
Zoe puts the bills on the table and finds an ID card in no time. She flashes a huge smile, like she’s looking at a delicious dessert. “Well, hello there, Elijah… You look pretty tasty.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I have something to do. Need to get going,” I say.
Zoe is staring at my victim’s ID and waves her hand in my direction. It’s as though her fate is already laid out.
“Have fun, sis.”
Leaving the living room, I head to my bedroom. There’s a job to be done, a target to find and lure out. A target to kill.
I spent a week observing and the last two nights putting a plan together in my head. The street taught me to always have all entrances and exits covered, to be prepared for any eventuality. Plans have a tendency to go to shit. And I don’t like being surprised.
With each passing hour of the night, my plan took on a more and more realistic shape.
Is it difficult to execute?
Yes.
Could I die doing it?
Also yes.
Am I going to hand it over to the Jackal?
Over my dead body!
Today, I’m starting to implement the first stage of my spider web, as delicate as deadly. And no one, absolutely no one, will stop me from closing this job.
When night falls, I transform into someone completely different.
In the underground world, on the dark web, and on the streets, I’m known as Shadow.
This nickname stuck with me after my second or third job. I have a unique ability to move quickly in the darkness. I’ve never been noticed by anyone—at least not by anyone who lived to tell the tale.
Not to brag, but I’m good at what I do. My cuts are always precise, my blows are swift, and my bullets always hit their target.
The combination of my elusiveness and precision gives me the leading spot on this infamous list of the city’s killers.
Not like the Jackal! Whoever this person is, he may be just as elusive, but he’s someone who loves to play with his victims. He’s creative and precise in his actions.
Often, he tortures his targets. I get the impression he’s a fan of macabre, bloody works of art.
He loves it when his crime scenes are messy.
Like a messy artist.
Even though I’m sometimes impressed, I wouldn’t admit it even if I were burned alive. Never in my life.
After all, he’s my rival and number two. For some, number one, but after the job I have to do now, no one else will have their doubts.
Focus, damn it! You have things to do.
Dressed in my tight-fitting black jumpsuit, I pull the hood over my head.
I already have a black mask on my face, covering the entire lower part.
It’s custom-made for me from Kevlar, with protruding elements.
They aren’t meant only to protect me from impact thanks to internal safeguards.
Their purpose is also to cause damage to my opponent.
My hair’s tucked under the elastic material that forms the back of the mask. Thanks to the whole design, only my eyes are visible. Additional air intakes provide ventilation for the whole thing.
Besides, I’m a walking weapon arsenal. On my body, I carry not only daggers but also a rope, a syringe containing a fast-acting sedative, throwing knives, and a small stun gun. You never know what might come in handy and when for a woman in this business.
In a short time, in my search for a way to reach my goal, I found information that former Senator Charles Baker has a brother.
Half an hour was enough for me to have everything I needed about him on my plate, including his home address, insurance number, and even his mistress’s address.
If you can still call her his mistress, that is, because his wife dumped his lousy ass over a year ago, taking their only son and beloved dog with her.
Either way, David Baker and his life aren’t much of a challenge for me.
I park my black Toyota RAV4 almost half a mile from my target’s house. My visit to his home doesn’t involve kidnapping, so there's no need to leave it nearby. It’s not without reason that I drive the most popular car in this city.
Before I get out of the car, I transform into Shadow.
Sneaking through the streets and sticking to the darkest places, sometimes the roofs of houses, I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins and my breathing quickening with excitement.
I soon reach David’s house. I observe the surroundings for a long time, but it’s already past midnight, and the neighborhood is quiet.
My target’s gray house is also shrouded in darkness, except for one small lamp lit in the living room. Through my monocular, I see the senator’s brother sitting on the couch reading a book and finishing a bottle of red wine.
A thrill runs through my body at the thought of the fun awaiting me. It’s even more thrilling because David is still up so late. I’m almost certain my life lacks challenges that would inspire me even more.
Putting my monocular away in a separate pocket, I look around once more.
It’s showtime.
Like a cat, I slowly and carefully climb down to the edge of the roof on the house opposite David’s. I jump onto the balcony below me, then hop over the railing and hang on the edge. Below me is a void, and I’m still two stories away from the ground.
Hand over hand, I move to the other end. Now I have to jump to the other balcony, two body lengths away.
What I want to do is risky, but I have good gymnastic skills. Holding onto the edge, I raise my legs and place them on the edge. Now I look like a swimmer getting ready to start a race.
It won’t be easy.
Inhale. Exhale. I count to three and put all my strength into my legs. Letting go of my hands at the last moment, I push myself up and back, turning my body in the air at the same time.
I stretch my arms out in front of me as hard as I can, knowing that my short height isn’t helpful.
Two seconds later, my left hand grabs the bottom of the railing, and my right hand barely grazes it before grabbing the air.
Cursing, I clench my left hand. I rock back and forth as if on a swing; the skin on my hand stings. I clench my jaw and, before the danger registers in my mind, I’m already hanging with both hands on the balcony.
That was close.
After waiting a few seconds, I make my way hand over hand to the opposite edge of the balcony. Right next to me, a gutter runs down the wall, which I slide down.
As soon as both feet are on the ground, I crouch down and look around before moving on.
I run through the garden, jump over the fence, and cross the road.
I sneak around to the back of the house. Through a ground-floor window, I enter the basement and, as I suspected, find the electrical panel there. When I flip the master power switch, the house is plunged into darkness, and David’s curse echoes.
Without making a sound, I take a few steps up the stairs, slip through the door, and find myself in the living area.
Most of the house is dark, with only a few areas illuminated by the light filtering in from the streetlights.
The light switch clicks a few times, then David speaks. “What the hell?”
I turn right and stand just inside the living room. A man’s shadow moves across the room and stops in front of the window.
“The twenty-first century, and man is still struggling with fucking fuses. Unbelievable,” he says, looking out at the neighborhood.
Sighing, he turns toward me, apparently planning to head to the basement.
David is nothing like his brother. He’s not much taller than me, with a round belly and a round face covered with thick stubble on his cheeks and jaw.
Charles Baker is tall, slim, always clean-shaven, and has thick, brown hair.
Even time hasn’t affected his appearance.
At least that’s how he looks in the pictures I have.
David adjusts his bathrobe and tightens the belt as he walks in my direction. Before he reaches the threshold, I step out of the darkness.
His eyes widen in surprise. He freezes immediately. As he scans my posture, assessing the potential threat, he relaxes.
Big mistake, buddy. This could mean your funeral.
“Who are you?” His eyes fixed on my mask.
“Hello, David,” I greet him, my mask slightly distorting my normal voice. Still, he can’t doubt that I’m a woman, even if it’s not clear from my look.
We stand a few steps apart. “What the fuck do you want?” he growls.
“I want to talk. We can do this the easy way and part ways in peace. Or we can do it the hard way… though I don’t recommend that.”
“Fuck off and get the hell out of my house!”
His first mistake is taking another step forward. Within seconds, I pull out my favorite dagger, which I always keep behind my belt. It whizzes through the air, and before he realizes what’s happening, the blade sticks into the hardwood floor a few steps behind him.