Free Story: The Hitman Chronicles: Fight The Power

I got the idea for this story in 2008, just before the general election and before politics in America got really ugly (who knew?). I posted it a couple of years ago on another web site. Since the Secret Service didn’t kick my door in, I guess it’s okay to post again.


The Hitman Chronicles: Fight The Power



Vernon Hills, Illinois
September, 2006
7:50 a.m.

The assassin kneeled behind the wall of the rooftop, looking across Woodlands Parkway at the hotel entrance. His view was narrow because he was squinting with one eye, peering at the hotel through the scope of an L115A3 Long Range Sniper Rifle. The rifle fired a heavy 8.59mm bullet, and was accurate at distances of over a half a mile. When the target exited the hotel he’d be well within range.

According to the informant, the target had called for his limousine, requesting a pickup at 8:15. The limo was already in front of the hotel. The limo driver stood outside the vehicle, smoking and pretending that he wasn’t checking out the surroundings for signs of danger. But of course he was. The assassin had no doubt that the driver’s duties included protection as well as transportation.

The assassin centered the L115A3’s scope’s crosshairs on the limo driver’s forehead. He knew the driver was probably armed, most likely with something automatic and short-ranged. He likely also had a longer-ranged firearm in the vehicle. It wouldn’t matter. The driver wouldn’t have time to get to that weapon. He was going to die a couple of seconds after the man he thought he was protecting – the man he thought he was going to drive to Chicago.

The assassin took his eye away from the scope. He checked his watch. She was supposed to call him within the next twenty minutes. If she did, the hit was a go. If she didn’t, or if she called and told him to abort, the hit was off because things had gone wrong on her end. They had to synchronize their actions. The targets worked in unison and maintained close contact with each other. For things to work as planned, two men had to die almost simultaneously.

One of the targets was an elected government official – a United States senator. The other was an oil company CEO. Both men were wealthy; the politician worth millions and the CEO worth billions. The two men were working on a plan that would bring them even more wealth, wealth gained at the expense of other people – millions of citizens. The two men were planning to commit a crime today to make sure their plan went off uninterrupted. Right now the senator and the CEO – the two targets – thought they were the only ones aware of their plan. They were wrong.

The assassin knew that if both men died, their plan would die with them. But if one escaped and learned that the other had been attacked or killed, they’d send a warning out to others in their association, and today’s effort would be wasted. If that happened, the country would still be in danger.

The assassin named Duncan Gray looked up from his watch, back across the parkway toward the hotel. He sighed into the crisp morning air.

He’d thought he was done with this, the killing. He thought he’d put this part of his life behind him. But here he was again, about to spill blood and end lives. But this time it wasn’t for money. This time the reason he was going to kill was for a greater reason than fattening his bank account.

Duncan relaxed and waited for her call. As he waited, he thought back to the meeting that had taken him from the comfort of his home in Oceanport, New Jersey and away from the arms of his wife to the rooftop of a building on the outskirts of Chicago…


Reston, Virginia
One Month Earlier

Duncan looked across the small conference table at the man sitting opposite him. He thought the man had aged a lot since he’d last seen him a couple of years ago.

“I thought you retired,” Duncan said.

Agent Avery Silva shrugged. “I thought I did, too. But sometimes things are beyond our control.”

“That applies to you,” Duncan said. “It’s not my issue. Why am I here?”

“Because the issue at hand is your issue, Duncan. The issue belongs to all of us. That’s why you’re here. I…we… need your skills again.”

Duncan knew that if he decided to get up and leave Avery couldn’t stop him. But there were two more government agents standing outside the door of this windowless room. Maybe he could get past them too, but it wouldn’t be easy since he wasn’t armed. And it definitely would be ugly. Duncan had never known what government agency it was Avery Silva worked for. He wasn’t even sure the agency had a name, that’s how secret they were. But he did know that they were some seriously ruthless motherfuckers when they wanted to be.

He said, “Avery, you have people working for you who’re paid with American tax dollars to do what you need done. Why are you coming to me?”

“Because we have leaks in the machine,” Silva said. “Right now we can’t be certain who we can trust. We already know that some information has been compromised. Right now, until we weed out and deal with our traitors, we can’t trust our system. That’s why you’re here.”

“What information? You need to give me a good reason or you know I’m going to walk.”

Silva said, “We need you to prevent the assassination of the next President of the United States. How’s that for a reason?”


Duncan leaned forward on the table and said, “The next President of the United States?”


“This is 2006, Avery. The next election is two years away. How the hell do you know who the next president is going to be?”

Silva cut his eyes around the windowless, soundproofed room as if he thought the walls might somehow grow eyes and ears. Then he said, “Some things – like the election of a president – aren’t random and up to chance, or even as up to the will of the people as you might think.”

Duncan stared across the table at Silva. Silva stared back at him. There was nothing between them but an expanse of polished mahogany and whatever meaning the agent was trying to convey with his eyes. The look in his eyes said that it was something big. “Okay, so lay it out for me.”

“All right. But first let me give you a little background. You up for a little lesson on reality?”

“I’m listening.”

“Okay then. You know how we work, Duncan. My organization is part of the government. We do the things that need to be done that no one wants to talk about, and most people don’t even know about. It’s been that way for over half a century. But now, now we’re becoming a part of the old version of the United States Government.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You know that we’re covert – very deep cover. The fact of the matter is that while all the presidents of the United States since Eisenhower have known we existed, that’s all that any of them knew. The only president who really had a clue about our actual function was the one who’d been the director of the CIA before getting into politics. But even he didn’t know everything. The reason for our secrecy is so if some shit really hits the fan and we have to do what we do, the president always has plausible deniability.”

“Things like contracting me to do your dirty work,” Duncan said.

“Among other things.”

“So how does that make you part of some old government?”

“We have two governments now,” Silva said. “One is our original government, the one that was of the people, by the people, and for the people. That’s the government we’re a part of, and that’s the government that’s getting smaller every year. The other government – the new government – is the one under the control of those who run our capitalist economy. Every year the money makers get more of our elected officials in their pocket, and so every year the good of the people becomes less of a priority. The money makers don’t care who they fuck over as long as it puts riches in their coffers. And for that reason, things are about to go to shit for the American people.

“This country is about to go to economic hell,” Silva said, “A recession is coming, and it’s going to be the worst situation since The Great Depression. It’s coming, we can’t stop it, and it’s going to be bad. We can’t count on most of our politicians to do anything about it because they’re being paid off to look the other way. And it’s not just on one side, so don’t be fooled. Both major parties are sucking on the corporate teat.”

Duncan said, “Okay, enough background. Why am I here?”

“Because it’s too late to stop the economic wound from happening, but we have to at least bandage the wound and stop the bleeding so it can start to heal. We have to have someone in the White House who’ll stop the bleeding. We need to have someone who hasn’t been bought off yet. We have a candidate selected, someone not yet infected by the corporate system. We have it set up so that two years from now, this candidate will win the party nomination, and then be elected president. The wheels are already in motion for that to happen.”

Duncan thought about what Silva had just told him. It made sense. He’d always figured when the former President’s wife announced back in 2000 that she was running for a Senate seat she was using that as a stepping stone for a run at the White House. So that was all a part of the plan of the “old government” that Silva worked for – to set her up to be president.

“So you’re telling me that the former First Lady is going to be the next president?” Duncan asked.

“The senator will run,” Silva said. “But she can’t win. The other side is ready for her. They got warmed up on her when she while she was First Lady. Sure, she could win her party’s nomination, but she wouldn’t win the presidency. Too many people don’t like her, so if she won her party’s nomination the other side would go after her with no mercy. So no, she’s not the one.”

“Then who is?”

For the first time since they sat down in the windowless room Duncan saw Silva smile. Silva said, “Did you catch any of the Democratic Convention a couple of years ago?”

“I watched some of it, yeah.”

“Do you remember who gave the keynote address?”

Duncan thought back. He didn’t care enough about politician’s pontificating and promises to remember much of what they said after the fact. But he thought he remembered the dude who gave the keynote speech at the convention. But he didn’t think that could be right.

Duncan looked at Silva. Silva was still smiling across the table at him as he watched him think.

Duncan said, “If memory serves, it was some dude with a funny name. But I must be wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” Silva said. He was still smiling.

“You are kidding, right?”

“He’s a junior senator. He’s fresh and new, and he’s going to be the next President of the United States.”


“The wheels are already set in motion,” Silva said. “The senator doesn’t even know yet that he’s going to run, though many are pushing him to. He’ll be convinced, and like I said, he’ll win. And that’s why you’re here – to make sure that happens.”

“You said you wanted me to prevent the assassination of the next President of the United States,” Duncan said. “Explain that.”

“Like I said, Duncan, we have leaks in our organization; spies or traitors, it doesn’t matter which. They know who we’ve selected, and they’ve taken that information to the other side. But we have spies too, so we know that a plan is already in place by the other side to eliminate the senator before he announces his candidacy. It’s supposed to happen next month, in Chicago. Only two men on the other side know the particulars. If they’re taken care of, the plan will die.”

“And you want me to take care of them,” Duncan said.

“We want you to take care of one of them. When the other side’s planned assassination goes down one of them – the politician – will be in Germany on a diplomatic visit. That way nothing can be tied to him. But the CEO will be here in the U.S., near Chicago. He’s the one who’ll call in the final instruction to the team of assassins, the go order to kill. He’s the one we want you to…handle.”

“What about the other one – the politician?” Duncan asked.

“We’ll have someone else take care of him. That’s already set up. What’s critical is that you synchronize your actions. It has to be that way. They have what they think is a foolproof plan. If one of the two learns that the other has been attacked or killed, they’ll inform and bring in others on their side to carry out their plan. So they have to be taken out at virtually the same moment.”

Duncan shook his head at that. “You know I work alone, Avery. I don’t do shit like this. I don’t trust anyone in my business, and especially for something like this – to coordinate kills in different parts of the world.”

“You haven’t always worked alone. We both know that. There is one person you trust when it comes to doing your work.”

Silva wasn’t smiling now. Duncan wasn’t either. He said, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“How the hell did you find her?”

“I’ve always known where she was,” Silva said. “But I didn’t tell the organization, and I didn’t go after her. She’s much more valuable to us free than in a Federal prison waiting for execution. I knew that one day we might need her. Now that day is at hand.”

“She won’t go for this. It’s not her style.”

“She’s already on board. I guaranteed her a full pardon if she cooperates. Now I just need you to sign on. This isn’t about typical government bullshit, Duncan. We need the senator in the White House. Nothing is guaranteed, but the other options are worse. If he’s not elected, when the economic hell begins it might not ever stop. Worst case scenario? In ten years eighty percent of our tax dollars will be spent fighting wars, with our troops dying over oil we’re never going to get. And we’re going to have hungry people roaming the streets of America, and class riots that lead to a new civil war. All this is going to happen, and much worse, if we don’t keep the senator alive.”


Berlin, Germany
September, 2006
2:50 p.m.

As Senator Alexander Affholter walked through the hotel bar he eyed the young Asian woman sitting on a stool. This afternoon she was wearing black – a nice, slinky number with a split up one side that showed off an enticing portion of her golden thigh as she sat with her legs crossed.

The senator had seen her in the hotel bar every day that he’d been a guest. He’d seen her go off with men on a couple of those days, so he figured her to be a hooker, though a high class one. He decided that he wanted his shot at her. He wanted to fuck the sexy Asian woman.

He caught her eye as he passed her stool. She smiled at him – gave him her hooker’s come on smile. Senator Affholter tilted his head to let her know that he wanted her to accompany him out. The woman slid off her stool and stepped toward him.

Jesus, she has a sexy walk! the senator thought. She moved in her black stilettos as easily as if she were barefoot. Her tight dress showed that she knew how to move her body as she walked, too. The senator had a vision of her naked, gagged and bound as he did things to her, some of them painful things, things that would make her scream into her gag. He felt his cock throb at the notion. Too bad he didn’t have time for that today.

When the girl reached him one of the senator’s aides stepped to her and said, “Excuse me Miss, but for security purposes we need to take a look in your purse.”

The girl gave his aide a sexy smile and said, “Certainly.”

As the aide searched the beautiful woman’s little purse Senator Affholter said to her, “I’m on my way to a meeting. I hope that the back of my limousine won’t be too inconvenient.”

“If that’s your pleasure,” she smiled.

She’s so fucking beautiful, the senator thought. She was beautiful enough to take back to the U.S. and set up in a little place close to Washington just so he could have her close and available. He had enough money to afford her, and in the years to come he’d amass even more wealth. Nothing would stand in the way of that. He and his compatriots were destined to rule, with their fortunes being the whip and the sword by which they exerted control over the common people. There’d been a minor glitch in the grand plan, but today, after they got rid of the upstart senator, the plan would be back on course.

Senator Affholter’s partner John Tarryton – the CEO of Universal Oil – was supposed to meet with the upstart in downtown Chicago for lunch. They were supposed to discuss the senator’s idea to have multi-billion dollar corporations contribute donations to educational programs to benefit underprivileged youth in inner city and rural areas. But that meeting would never happen. Tarryton was going to leave his hotel in Vernon Hills to go to Chicago, and while on his way, he’d call the team of assassins already in place in the city and instruct them to make the hit. By the time he arrived in Chicago the young senator would be history.

And the band would play on.


Senator Affholter told his aides to take the Mercedes sedan and go on ahead to the meeting so he could have a little privacy in his chartered limousine. He watched as the chauffeur opened the rear door of the limo and helped the whore in like she was someone special. Before the senator slid in after her, he said to the driver, “Just stay here. She’s not going with us.” He was glad the limo had black-tinted windows.

Once they were all in the limo the driver raised the privacy shield. Then the senator turned to the lovely whore and said, “You speak English very well.” He didn’t care what language she spoke or how well she spoke it. He was just breaking the ice. As he spoke he placed his hand just above her knee and slid it under her dress and up her thigh.

The hooker didn’t flinch at his touch. She smiled at him and cooed, “I’m American.”

“Legally? Ah, never mind. It would just make things simpler if I wanted to take you back to Washington with me.”

The senator squeezed the whore’s thigh under her dress, hard. Though it had to hurt she didn’t react. She just kept smiling sweetly at him.

She had a beautiful smile, but he didn’t like the way she was looking at him. There was something about her black eyes that made him ill at ease. There was no fear of him in her eyes, even though he knew he must be hurting her. But there was something else there. Something cold.

“And why would you want me to go back with you?” the hooker asked.

“Well, a beautiful woman like you, I’d make use of your…services. In fact, I might just want you for my personal and exclusive use. You’d have it much better than most of the commoners.”

Senator Affholter eased his grip on the girl’s thigh. She let out a soft, “Mmm…”

“You like being hurt?” he asked. He felt himself throb at the thought of the possibilities.

Still smiling she said, “Pain can be managed and put in its proper place. But I can cry and beg for you if that’s your pleasure.”

The senator felt his heart flutter at the thought of all the things he could do to this whore. He said, “My, my, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” and slid his hand farther up the inside of her thigh. Then his hand contacted something.

He whipped her dressed aside and gaped at the thing strapped high on the inside of her thigh. “What the hell is this?” he hissed.

The girl was still smiling as she said, “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Senator Affholter reached for the thing between her legs, but the girl gripped his hand in both of hers and stopped him, shocking him with her strength.

The girl bent his fingers back, adding pain to his shock. The senator howled his agony as his bones snapped and his fingers folded back against his wrist.


As the target screamed Nikira Horikoshi slipped the NAA .22 Magnum mini revolver from the holster between her legs.  She pointed it at the lowering privacy shield. When the shield was low enough she shot the surprised chauffeur in his face. Then she turned the weapon on Senator Affholter.

He was grasping his ruined hand and groaning, “Oh Jesus…oh Jesus.”

Nikira said, “You should be praying to me, Senator, because Jesus can’t save you.”

“Who the hell are you?” the senator whimpered.

“I told you, I’m American,” Nikira said.

Even though the senator’s eyes were glassy with pain, Nikira saw the defiance in them at her statement. She put the revolver back in its holster slipped off one of her stilettos. She considered the four-inch heel of her shoe, then looked down at the cowering politician. She said, “You know what, Senator Affholter? I don’t feel like being a good girl today.”

Nikira took sweet pleasure in beating Senator Alexander Affholter to death with her stiletto. When she was done she climbed into the front of the limousine, stuffed the driver into the leg space on the passenger side and drove the limo away from the hotel.

As she pulled onto the street she checked the time. Then she made a call.


Vernon Hills, Illinois
September, 2006
8:07 a.m.

Duncan pushed the answer button the satellite phone and said, “You’re cutting it close.”

“The bastard messed up my dress,” Nikira said.

“Excuse me?”

“Got blood all over it.”

“I’m not even going to ask. So it’s a go?”

“It’s a go,” Nikira said.

“Okay. Gotta go. My guest is coming out in a minute.”

“Can I listen?”

“I’m long range, Nikki. Unlike you, I don’t come on myself when I get my hands dirty.”

“Mmm. Speaking of orgasms Duncan, wanna hook up before you go home to Maisha?”

“Fuck you.”

He heard Nikira laugh. Then she said, “That’s what I’m talking about. I can be in Chicago tonight if you want to wait for me.”

“I’ve got to bounce, Nikira. I have work to do. Buy yourself a dildo or something.”


John Tarryton’s head snapped around like he’d been hit by a hard left hook when the bullet tore through his forehead. Duncan didn’t see him fall. He’d already trained his crosshairs on the driver, who was looking around wildly, trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan’s second shot hit the driver in the back of the neck.

Three hours later he was on a flight back to New Jersey, flying under a false identity. He thought when he landed at Newark International he’d call Maisha and tell her to pack them a couple of week’s worth of clothes. He wanted to get away with his wife for awhile, maybe go to Brazil or Cancun or even Canada. The destination really didn’t matter.

Right now he didn’t feel like being in America…the old one or the new one.

The Hitman Chronicles: Fight The Power


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Posted on February 19, 2012, in Free Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. We gotta fight the powers that be.

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