Face grim, Leo wrapped the carpet-encased body in some plastic tarps that he kept in the back room. He took care to use only those fresh from the packaging. They were doing amazing things with forensics today and Leo didn’t want to take any chances. He also wanted to be far away when the authorities started investigating what, if taken at face value, screamed homicide. If they ever discovered the body.
Still wearing his gloves, he went outside, looked around and didn't see anyone. It didn't mean that there wasn't anybody watching, only that Leo couldn't see them. When Leo had worked, there was always a back up team ready to extract him if something went wrong. He also had a spotter helping identify the target, doping the wind, checking the range and more.
Using Phillips’ keys, he got in the car and checked the glove box which revealed nothing except a car rental agreement. Hopefully, Phillips had sprung for the extra insurance as this car was going to soon be burnt and twisted metal.
Leo pulled the car around back and opened up the trunk. Empty. Opening the back door of the store, Leo dragged out the body and hefted it into the trunk. He closed it, stepped back inside the store and opened his personal safe tucked by the door. He dug around and found a couple of cardboard boxes. The chemicals inside had been premixed and were ready to go. It was surprising what you can buy on eBay, and for about forty dollars and some research on the Internet, he had one hell of a good recipe for thermite.
While he’d hoped it would never come to this, Leo had been preparing for this day for the past ten years — when his past would catch up to him. Besides, even paranoid people had enemies.
The forty-five hundred degree Fahrenheit liquid produced by the burning thermite would hopefully destroy enough evidence and give him the time he would need to put some distance between here and whoever would soon be looking for him.
He dug out a timer, glad he’d done his research. Thermite was somewhat difficult to ignite, and even harder to fire electrically, but Leo had figured out a way. He had a lot of free time on his hands, no romantic commitments, and no other life except for precision rifle shooting and the coin store.
Damn, he was going to miss out trying the new load he had worked up for his thousand-yard rifle.
Working fast, Leo popped open the trunk and set up his thermite. The first charge, a baggie full of powder with an attached firing system went into Phillips’ mouth to obliterate anything that could be matched to dental records. The second one was set on his chest. Leo taped the man's hands over the charge with the goal of erasing any fingerprints and placed them over the letter opener. He set the timer for an hour, tossed his gloves on the body, closed the trunk, locked the store and then drove for five minutes to an industrial park that was conveniently vacant thanks to the commercial real estate bust.
He walked back to the store without looking back. When the thermite ignited, it would burn through the body, destroying the letter opener and the bottom of the trunk, and into the gas tank, causing a massive fire that would further hinder any investigation.
He pulled his truck, a six-year-old GMC pickup complete with topper, to the back and loaded up some other items from the safe, including his target rifle, a stash of gold coins and bundles of cash he had set aside. He locked his truck and entered the store. He stopped at the counter and stared at the plain vanilla envelope.
Leo retrieved another letter opener and carefully slit the envelope open from the bottom. He slid the contents out onto the counter and studied each document. It was the standard targeting profile — name, pictures and various biographical details. On the last page were the specifics of the proposed hit. Leo was supposed to undertake this particular assassination solo with no spotter or backup team. There was also no site set up for him to shoot from. In all of his previous jobs, all Leo had to do was show up to find his rifle set up and the spotter waiting. When the target showed up, Leo took the shot and walked away. That was interesting in itself. There were no further details except that he was to receive thirty thousand dollars for this job. The payment was on the very low side for someone with Leo's expertise. His last job had paid ten times as much and that was over ten years ago. Another piece to add to the puzzle.
Leo punched in his partner’s number. “Rob. Hey. It’s me. Yeah, look. Something’s come up — no. No I’m fine. Family thing. Sister’s kid got in a little trouble.
“Yeah,” he grunted out a laugh at Rob’s reference to teenagers. Of course, Leo didn’t have a divorced sister with a teenager, but as far as Rob was concerned he did and she lived in Toledo. When he’d taken on his new identity, he’d contrived a background to go with it then made damn sure he’d planted his ‘family’ plenty of miles away.
“Anyway, Barb thinks the kid needs a male hand, so you know where this is headed, right? I need you to cover at the shop for a few days.
“Great, thanks man. I owe you. And look, if business is as slow as it’s been the last couple of weeks, just shut the place down for a day or so if you have to.”
He waited while Rob told him to take his time. “Thanks again. I’ll be in touch.”
Leo hung up, and then studied the picture of the target. Short black hair, round face, intelligent eyes. The name underneath it read “Jackie Winn.” A pretty girl who didn't need makeup to look nice even in the photo, apparently taken from a distance.
Leo slid the paperwork back into the envelope and folded it into his sport coat pocket. On his way out of the door, he picked up Phillips' pistol and added that to the pocket containing the envelope.
“So. Jackie Winn,” he muttered aloud as he settled behind the steering wheel. “Who the hell are you and why does someone want you dead?”
More to the point, who in the business knew he was alive and why had they dragged him back into it?
If he wanted answers to those questions, he needed a plan. While he had realized that the day he would have to pay for his past sins would be coming, he had always held on to the hope that he could keep his comfortable, reasonably safe life. Hell, he was in his early thirties and had lived way beyond his expected life expectancy as an assassin.
Someone had taken a great deal of effort to track him down. Who? Leo had only done political assassinations outside the United States, not generic murder for hire. Was this attempt to recruit him for something bigger? And if so, why?
He knew that Phillips was a dead end. The only thread that he could follow was his expected target, Jackie Winn, to see if he could figure out how she was involved. His best bet was to track her down, see why she was a target and then follow the trail back to who had wanted her killed. Then, if he had to, he’d take out whoever got in his way until he found someone he could convince to leave him the hell alone. Forever.
Like it or not, it was time to go hunting.
The DVD tray sliding out of the drive broke Jackie from her thoughts. That was strange — the DVD drive should only kick out the disk when it was done writing, not reading.
Something wasn't right. She couldn't explain it, but she knew. Good programmers and even hackers just didn't grind out code, they sensed what was working right and what wasn't, coding by feel. It wasn't something that was taught, or even could be quantified, but it was what set her apart from thousands of other code jockeys. And there was something going on here that she felt was wrong. It was just a twinge, but it was enough.
She looked at the disk. Nothing appeared defective with it so she decided to try a different machine. She stepped over to her laptop and powered it up. Since it was a Linux box, the software wouldn't run on or cause any problems with her computer. She waited for the disk to spin up and then looked at it with sector dump. It was all zeroes. Picking another section of the disk, she looked at it and, again, found only zeroes. Was the whole thing blank?