Vivian Riley Chapter 05
Chapter 5
The next day I stayed at home, doing research on Billy Grant; his schedule, his habits, his likes, and dislikes. For the days that followed, my more practical part of my observation began; the trailing. I got to use wigs and other disguises to follow my targets. For this one, I’d have to use something more profound, more extravagant to not stand out in his social circle.
I had thought about the way of how to execute him, an accident, something that could happen naturally… so I had observed his private habits, such as alcohol and drugs. And what I had found was very pleasing. Billy Grant occasionally took drugs on his secret private parties. I had connections to a drug dealer, who could actually provide me with drugs for my work.
After a shower, I dried my hair and pinned it up under a thin hat, so that I was able to put a long, blond and curly wig on my head. He had a thing for blondes as I had observed. Afterwards, I put on very skinny blue jeans, rather high black high heels, a pink top with a sort of winglike short sleeves and a black ribbon around my waist. I put on new earrings I had bought a while back, each a flower with a blue core and red, orange and green petals and a blue drop like gem hanging down, its frame was golden.
Dolled up like this I put on some makeup to hide the prime features of my face and went off to the club where I knew to find a way to Grant's party. Innocently and mature I pulled out another one of my fake ID’s and the bouncer let me in willingly. Today I was twenty-six years old, an office worker and here to enjoy the last night of my working week.
I spent most of my time on the dance floor when a man started to dance with me. As I turned to him, I remembered seeing him around Grant. He would get me into Grant's private party! Pretending to be a little drunk, I danced with him. And shortly after he pulled me closer to talk to me, “I’m going to go to another party, a little more private, only invited guests, would you like to join me?” “Is it going to be fun?” I asked tipsily and leaned against his chest, still looking at him, “My boring friends were too tired to join me tonight!” “Oh, no worries, you can make lots of new friends tonight if you wish!” he said and grabbed my ass. Under normal circumstances he would be on the floor now, making high sounds and holding on to his best parts. But tonight was different, tonight was for a cause, so I let it happen and even played along as I let my hands wander down to his ass as well, a really juicy ass as I had to admit.
He pulled me along with him, out of the club, and into a cab. “Where are we going?” I asked and put my legs elegantly over his, while his hand ran along the outer side of my thigh. “To a friend of mine, he’s having a party and I just invited you to come along!” he said and pulled my legs even closer, “What’s your name?” “Meredith Crawley,” I said and smiled at him, “What is yours?” “Darren Murdock!” he said with a smile.
I hated small talk, but somehow I managed to get through it and make him believe that I actually enjoyed his company and dull conversation. “So who is that mysterious friend of yours, Darren Murdock?” I asked seductively and succeeded surprisingly quickly, that feller must have been rather drunk, as I suspected. “You might know him, he is Billy Grant!” Darren said proudly and looked out of the window, as we approached an old factory building.
Darren led me into the building and I heard the music, a mixture of house and techno, designed for drunk dancing, alcohol, drugs, and sex. What a convenient atmosphere for my plan. He actually did introduce me to Grant, who looked at me from head to toe and nodded, ignoring the fact that I was actually standing beside them, well able to hear their every word, as they discussed my origin. “I found her in the club, thought you might like her,” Darren said and looked at my blond wig.
“I thought we’re going dancing?” I asked in a little drunken voice, “You promised me this place was fun!” “How about you come with me and I promise you, you’ll never forget this night!” Grant said with a wide smile and held out his hand, “I need Darren to do a job for me, dear. But he will join us down there to dance!” As he spoke he pointed down through a window on the side, into a club area. “Will it be fun?” I asked and smiled at Billy Grant now. “Definitely!” he said and licked his lips.
Darren left and Billy led me towards a private room with couches and a bed, it actually looked like a little apartment. A quick look around the room confirmed what I had hoped for, no cameras or other surveillance. After all, Grant didn’t want his career to end because of his drug use and his way with women. “Do you wanna try something?” he asked and invited me to sit on the couch. “Why not?” I asked, “I am a very curious person!”
Billy, a tall man, dark brown hair, light skin and greyish blue eyes, pulled out a little bag of ecstasy pills, “They will make you enjoy this night even more!” “Oh, I know ecstasy, I just love the way I can see everything around me whenever I take them…” I said in a dreamy voice, “I have some as well!” I pulled out the little box from my handbag, “See? And the best is, mine is supposed to last longer! Last weekend I was actually on ecstasy for more than six hours! The most of what I heard and experienced was about three to four hours!” I stood up and walked over to him, “Please let us take one and test it, you’ll see that I was right!” Slowly I opened the black ribbon around my waist.
Grant fell for it and put his bag aside, reaching out for my ass and pulling me closer. As he opened his mouth for me, I shoved one of the pills in and pretended to swallow one myself. I wouldn’t touch that stuff if I was dying and this was my only hope of survival. For the next ten minutes I’d have to play along, or distract him, at that point I had to give him another one, a special one!
Billy came closer again, letting his hands wander under my top and pull it up over my head. My wig was perfectly secured and didn’t come off. Grant wouldn’t have noticed anyway, since his eyes were googly fixed on my chest and what was hidden under the bra. His hands moved to my chest and at first stroke them gently, felt them and then bent down to let his tongue touch my skin.
Grant moved faster than I expected, but that was ok, in my mind I was prepared for almost everything. While he was busy with my chest, I had enough time to pull the little pill out of my jeans; it was a higher dosed ecstasy pill, therefore not traceable. This one though had a special coating that would dissolve on its way into the stomach; it would give me approximately thirty seconds to get it into his mouth… Carefully I put it into my mouth, as I pulled his head higher again, I kissed him and shoved my tongue into his mouth, with it the MDMA pill. Already starting to feel the euphoria from the first pill, he swallowed and pulled me closer, seemingly trying to shove his tongue down my throat.
Playfully I pushed him away from me and down onto the couch, “You look a bit pale, you want something to drink?” I asked and walked over to the tab to get him some water. “You’re quite wild, huh?” he asked and watched as I brought him the water, to wash away my salvia, “How about some fun right now?” “I would suggest you relax a bit, you’re not looking the best, dear!” I said amused and sat down on the couch across from him.
First, his face turned white, then green, his eyes widened and he bent forward to throw up white foam and blood. Shortly after he fell over, landed in his vomit, wiggled around for a bit, then stopped moving and died there. Amused I looked at him for a while, what a joke, a man like him, publicly fighting against drugs, dying from an overdose of exactly what he pretended to fight.
After a few minutes of no movement at all, I stood up and bent over his body, felt his pulse, checked his breathing, and smiled, no pulse, no breathing. I picked my top up from the ground and put it back on, tied the ribbon around and left the room, after cleaning and wiping off my fingerprints from the glass and the tab. Back in my character, I returned to the entrance, sighing as I stepped out and walked in the opposite direction of my actual destination. As soon as I was out of sight and out of town with no surveillance cameras I walked to an old shed. Behind it, I had a backpack hidden with sports equipment, trainers, runners and a long sleeve top. I shoved my things into my trousers and burnt the ID, after this, I couldn’t use the name Meredith Crawley anymore. It didn’t matter, I had tons of identities, and none of them officially existed. Not even my real name existed. Didn’t that mean that I didn’t exist?
I shoved the wig and hair clips into the backpack and my clothes as well after changing into the sports stuff and started jogging my usual round. Nobody would be patient enough to consider following me after the first hour, not that a normal human could follow me for an hour without special training, but there was no one following me anyway. I had checked a few times.
It was around five when I returned home, so I went straight for a shower and got ready for bed, but before I actually went to bed, I sent a message about the successful completion of the job to my contact.
Suddenly I had to think about Nathan, I wondered how he was doing in his attempt to find me. So I tried it in return, knowing that I would be lucky sooner than him. Well, I knew that he worked for the CIA, so it wasn’t too hard to hack the CIA outer borders to access their personal files, and voila, there he was.
Nathan Brown.
It had taken me about one hour to access the CIA’s records about him, his phone number, his address, e-mail, everything. While Nathan, who was working for the CIA, had almost two weeks to find me but still hadn’t. I had no idea as to why, but I wrote down his contact details and saved his records on an external flash drive. Afterwards, I deleted the cookies and history. It was early in the morning so I closed the curtains and went to bed until noon before I returned to my normal routine.
Two days passed before I heard from my contact again. He told me my last client was asking for another hit, but I refused, since he wanted me to use the same method again, the client had, of course, heard about the deadly overdose of ecstasy. To use the same method again and still let it look like an accident was not advisable; since once was an accident, twice was suspicious and everything after that was just obvious murder. The cops would look further into it, find similarities and start to ask questions!
The payment for the last hit arrived the next day. Suspiciously I watched it for a while, listened for ticking sounds or other sounds that were not supposed to be there. It was a small shoe box, wrapped in brown packing paper. Still suspicious, I went back to my apartment to get a gadget I had once taken from a murdered agent. It was sort of a scanner, built to detect bombs and tracking devices.
And, oh what a surprise, it started beeping. What a lovely way to express appreciation for a hit to send me a bomb! With a sigh, I took the box outside and carefully walked away from the houses, to a garden, quite a bit away from curious people. A high fence separated the road from it and a metal gate, opened up for me, as I punched the code in with my elbow.
Carefully I placed the bomb on the table on one side of the garden, pulled a tent out of my little shed, shielding the bomb from light, and put on my safety clothes, after all, I was curious as to who made the bomb and who was as eager to get the other hit as well, to even murder the person that refused to execute it!
I looked like a big pumpkin or an astronaut in the suit, but it protected me in case the bomb went off before I could take it apart. Carefully I removed the wrapping, making sure no wires would be pulled or taken apart to trigger the detonation. Just in case I switched on my night vision in the suit since it was rather gloomy with the thick tent above the bomb and my self. I took a few deep breaths to get back into my bubble, the bubble where nothing else existed and calmed my heart.
There was probably more than one trigger to detonate the bomb. In order to see if the lid of the box was in any way connected, I bent down to check, as I lifted the lid. There was a light sensor, connected to something hidden under banknotes. Slowly I pulled out a few of them, to see what was hidden underneath and saw the pipe, a pipe probably filled with black powder. Damn client! Calculating my every move, I pulled out a cutter and studied the clear epoxy, at the end that was concealing the electrical components. The wires from the four mercury switches on the lid were each connected to a heating wire that would give the spark to detonate the black powder inside the pipe and some sort of energy source under the bank notes.
Still holding on to the lid, I cut through the eight wires and put the lid on the table beside the box. Cautiously I pulled out each banknote, putting them in a little box, expecting another wire connected to another trigger, but there was none, he had obviously only put the money in, to fill the empty space. Now the next part was to disarm the bomb. There were wires on both sides, connected to a heating wire and a battery; the chances that it would instantly blow as soon as I cut one of them were fifty-fifty.
I’d have to cut both wires at the same time to prevent that from happening… Luckily I had another pair of scissors in my suit. My senses concentrated on those particular wires, everything else disappeared. I took a deep breath and placed the scissors on the wire on each side. The cut would separate the battery from the bomb, which would make it impossible to blow, except if he had put in another trigger with a battery. But that was unlikely. Still, I had to check. I put the scissors on the table and carefully lifted the pipe, but there were no other existing or entering wires.
Relieved I put the cutters back in position, another exhalation; I counted to three and pressed the blades of the scissors together. For a second I waited in anticipation, but nothing happened. I sighed again and cut the other wires too, I didn’t want the black powder to go off for any other reason. Carefully I placed the components of the bomb all over the table, pulled out a bowl and placed it besides the box. The difficult part now was to open the pipe without it blowing up in my hands. It was not like it was a part of disarming the bomb, taking the actual bomb apart was more like a hobby.
Cautiously screwing it open and emptying its content into the bowl, I observed without blinking. But there was nothing in but black powder. How boring! I put a lid on the bowl and put it underneath the table and returned my attention to the pieces of the bomb. I still had to find the client who had sent me this lovely present!
I carefully observed the pipe, the wires, the mercury switches and all the other bits and pieces. But there was nothing. Frustrated I threw the little box with the banknotes through the tent and watched them as they fell when suddenly something caught my eye. There was a scribble on one of the notes! Quickly I moved to the banknotes and looked for the note I had seen and found it with a pleased smile.
A name! Not the writing itself, but the imprint of his signature! He’d probably had the money on the table as he had signed something, that idiot. With a smile on my face, I tidied the things up, storing the black powder and the bomb parts in a safe little bunker under my garden and went back home. After all, I had a little research to do.