Free Story: The Hitman Chronicles: Rumors of War – Chapter 8
Somewhere in Northern New Jersey
Three million dollars.
Worse, it was three million dollars of his own money. And for what – so Yuri wouldn’t know that he’d killed his precious green-eyed African trophy?
He could think of no way to get his money back. He was certain the crazy Japanese bitch wouldn’t return it even if she failed to do the job. But she would do it. Her reputation was as important to her as her love of killing. But, after she killed that traitorous African witch she would die too.
Viktor decided that after Nikira Horikoshi killed Amarante, he’d report to Yuri what she’d done. Yuri would demand vengeance. And Yuri was one who always got what he demanded. Whether it took one day or one hundred years, he would track Nikira to the ends of the earth, and take her head.
But still, his three million dollars was gone.
“What’s the matter Viktor?”
He’d been so lost in thought that he’d forgotten the woman on her knees under his desk.
Beautiful Vanna. One of the most beautiful whores in his house. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, Vanna was a true Nordic goddess.
Viktor knew that he was not a handsome man. But when a man possessed power it didn’t matter. When a man possessed power he could have anything. He could have any woman – even a woman like the beautiful Vanna.
He’d made her wear a business suit this time. He liked her in a business suit, complete with eye glasses that she didn’t need. It gave her a professional look when she groveled on her knees to him, and begged him to allow her to pleasure him. That excited him, that she could look so powerful, but have no power at all. No, the power was his.
He enjoyed his power.
“Amarante will be leaving us soon,” Viktor said. “I will need someone to take over her duties as mistress of my house. Would you like that duty, Vanna?”
She raised her beautiful face and smiled up at him. “Yes, thank you Viktor.”
“Good, then that will be my reward to you for your service. You will assume Amarante’s position. You will manage this house, and no longer have to lie on your back for your pay. Except to me of course, and whomever I say.”
“Thank you Viktor,” Vanna said again. Then she returned to her duty of sucking his cock.
Viktor smiled. He enjoyed his power.
As Vanna serviced him he picked up his phone and dialed his home on Long Island. He’d decided that he’d stay here at the mansion brothel until after the meeting on Sunday. He would let his wife know. He liked talking to his wife on the phone while one of the whores sucked his cock.
She wasn’t home. Probably in the city shopping, he thought. His wife was becoming too much like American women. She enjoyed spending money on frivolous things. A bad habit to pass on to his daughters.
He hung up the phone and looked down at the beautiful Vanna on her knees under his desk. He grasped the back of her head and yanked her close, making her take him deeper as he ejaculated.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gagged, not daring to defy him by pulling back. “Look at me,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
She opened her blue eyes, which now glistened with tears, and looked at him as he came. He liked her tears.
When he was done he released her. She coughed and sniffed and wiped the tears from her face. She still looked up at him, because that was what he had commanded her to do.
He patted her on head as if she were a faithful dog.
He enjoyed his power.
“Tell Nicole that she’s working tomorrow morning,” Amarante instructed Marita.
They were in Amarante’s second floor office in the mansion.
“Very well,” Marita said. “And Vanna as usual?”
“Yes. Vanna already knows.”
“Who’s the third?” Marita asked.
“I want you here tomorrow,” Amarante said.
“Don’t worry,” Amarante said. “I know how you feel about those men. You won’t have to do anything. But I need you here tomorrow, Marita.”
“As you wish, Amarante.”
Marita was the woman Amarante was preparing to assume her duties as madam of the house. She was a beautiful Columbian, thirty years old, whose special talents generated huge income for the house. Men and women paid thousands of dollars for a single session with her, and she was worth it. Moreover she was highly intelligent and trustworthy, a perfect choice to become manager of the mansion. She might still service some of her select customers, like one of the current presidential candidates and his wife, and the CEO of a major Hollywood studio, but that would be at her discretion.
Nicole was a new worker. She would do what she was told with no questions asked, which was good because when things began tomorrow they would have to move quickly.
Amarante wouldn’t have had the headstrong Vanna work tomorrow morning, but Viktor always required that she work on Sundays. She was his favorite, and he enjoyed demonstrating his perversities with her in front of his men.
Well, tomorrow Viktor would be in for a surprise. The day would not go as he anticipated.
“Do you want to hear something funny?” Marita asked.
Amarante raised her brow. “What?”
“The candidate – he called me last night,” Marita said. “He said that if he became president, he and the first lady wanted me to move to Washington to be close to them. They would provide me a condominium near the capitol.”
Amarante shook her head. “He has very high dreams, but his dream won’t be realized.”
“How do you know?” Marita asked.
“Some things in life are already determined,” Amarante said. “The true power does not lie in the hands of politicians, or the government. Your candidate will not become the next president. He won’t even be his party’s nominee. In fact, within the next month he’ll drop out of the race.”
“If not the government, then who does hold the power?” Marita asked.
“Hands that reach out from the shadows,” Amarante said.
Somewhere in Northern New Jersey
“I don’t know why we can’t wait for Viktor,” Vanna complained. “He should be the one who tells us what to do.”
They were in Amarante’s Escalade, leaving the mansion’s grounds. Amarante navigated the SUV over the lawn on the north side of the estate’s circular driveway, the end of the house away from Viktor’s office. She stole a glance at the vehicles parked in front of the house. They were all here. All of Viktor’s crew.
“These are Viktor’s instructions, “Amarante said to Vanna. “He said that there might be a police raid this morning. He wants us out of the house.” She looked over her shoulder and glared coldly at the blonde prostitute. “Do not question me, Vanna. Ever.”
Vanna glared back, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She knew that by whatever means, very soon Amarante would be gone and she would become the new mistress of the house. Something told her that Amarante’s making them leave this morning had something to do with that. She didn’t think Viktor knew that they were leaving the house.
As Amarante turned her eyes forward and drove away from the mansion Vanna felt for the cell phone hidden in her pocket.
“Anybody comes out through that shed, take them out,” Duncan said to Simone. “We don’t want any witnesses.”
They were crouched in the woods at the rear of the mansion. From their location they could see the open basement doors. It looked like Nikira’s contact had held up her end of the bargain.
“Okay, go!” he ordered his niece.
Simone looked at Nikira. Her eyes were clouded with hatred and threat. To Nikira she said, “Remember what I told you. If my uncle doesn’t come out of there I’m going to kill you.”
Duncan expected Nikira to give some smart-assed response, but she didn’t answer. Her eyes were focused on the house. Duncan remembered that expression on her face from their time training together in Japan. Nikira was focused. She was in killing mode.
Simone left them, circling though the woods to the south side of the mansion to find her sniper’s nest. When she was out of earshot Duncan said, “There’s no tunnel leading to that shed, is there? Simone is going over there for nothing, right?”
“She’s an amateur,” Nikira said. “I don’t want her getting in my way.”
“Is that your official story? Because I can take it a few ways.”
“Take it however you want.”
“Okay, I can take it that you’re setting me up, and you want Simone out of the way. Or I can take it that it’s as you say, and you think she’d get in the way. That’s possible. Or how about this one: It might be that you actually have a heart, Nikki, and you don’t want Simone pulled into this – either for her physical protection, or the protection of her innocence.”
Nikira wouldn’t look at him. She kept her eyes focused on the back of the house. She said, “Duncan, you’re getting soft in your old age.”
“Am I? Am I the one who’s getting soft? You paid Simone a million dollars to take part in this job. When you thought she was just another killer – someone who was good enough to work with me – you wanted her on board. You wanted the extra gun. But when you realized that Simone was my niece, the little girl I’d talked about when we were…when we were in Japan, all of a sudden there’s this secret tunnel leading out of the house. You knew I’d pick up on your little deception. I know you, Nikki.”
Nikira looked at him then. Her focused expression had softened. “You think you know me, Duncan?”
“I knew you were sending me a message when you lied about there being a tunnel here.”
“If you know me, then who am I? What am I?”
Her question made him wonder if her mind was slipping off its hinges again, the way it had when she tried to kill him in Atlantic Highlands. But this time that madness wasn’t in her eyes. Something else was there. He couldn’t read whatever it was. But it made him think about walking among the shops in Fussa City, holding hands with her. But that was so long ago.
He must have taken too long to answer, because the softness in Nikira’s eyes grew hard and cold. She turned to look at the mansion again and spat, “That’s what I thought. You don’t know anything. Come on, let’s go kill these pimps.”
(To be continued…)