Chapter Twenty Four
Eliza’s phone rang just as she pulled the car into traffic. She dispensed with the niceties. “Give me a minute. I’m driving.”
The caller was curt and commanding “I have a message from the Silver Man. Pull over and park. You did not follow the instructions you received at the meeting. You stole our property. You have one last chance to prove that you are not an enemy of the Collective.”
For the first time in her life, she was truly scared. This was the moment she had dreaded. Sweat soaked through the back of her shirt making it feel like a second skin.
Will they let me live after this?
“I was going to do it, I swear. I’ll do whatever you want.” Frantically pleading with him, she heard her own voice as if it came from somewhere outside the car.
“Relax, Eliza, we know you’re going to do your job. Why don’t you have a smoke? They’re in the glove compartment. I think we’ll both get more done once you realize we’re your friends. And you’re going to help your friends by doing exactly what you’re told. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
His voice was deep and rich, smooth and slick with culture and class – not at all what she expected. Eliza’s fear increased exponentially, until all she could register was sheer terror.
“Will you let me go after it’s done? I have to know.”
“Once you complete your assignment, you’re done. We have no interest in cultivating this relationship any further than that.”
His answer was unmistakably clear; she was a liability. He was either unaware that two others also knew about the drug and the pre-programmed hits or didn’t care. She kept quiet about that, hoping there might still be a way out.
“Go to the U.S. Post Office at 127 West 83rd Street and retrieve the key taped underneath box 1001. It contains instructions and everything you’ll need to do the job. Follow the instructions, and you’ll be fine.”
“Who is it this time?”
“Here’s a little hint…who wants to kill a billionaire?”
***
“Are we all set for tonight, Clara?”
“All set. Doug Meir is the overnight security guard at The Ginger Man on East 36th Street. I told him that you were my best friend and that you’d be bringing Abby there tonight to meet us for an after-hours party when the bar closes. I’ll wait for you at the back entrance. It’ll be unlocked. The fermenting rooms are the perfect place to scare the hell out of her.”
She giggled and squeezed Alison’s hand. “He’s going to cut the feed to the in-house security cameras so no one will know we were ever there. He thinks he’s got a shot at a three-way!”
“Shut up!”
“Abby hangs out at a bar called the Pig n’ Whistle On Third on 55th Street every night without fail. The bartender is her cousin, so she drinks for free. He hates her guts.” Clara smiled beatifically.
“Then what?”
“Get a seat next to her at the bar. When she’s stinking drunk, walk out with her and get her into a cab. Have the driver drop you off a few blocks away from The Ginger Man and steer her to the back door. I’ll be waiting.”
“O.K., but…” Alison looked worried.
“But what?”
“I just thought we were going to do this together.”
“Alison, if I’m seen at the bar and anything happens we didn’t count on, I’ll be the first person they look for. They’ll find out I know you and connect you to the Collective. Then it’ll be all over for you, Allie. Victim of the drug or not, they’ll put you away. Look, you’re a stranger to her; if anything happens that we didn’t count on, no one’s going to be looking at you. Besides, she can’t say anything without incriminating herself.”
“But what if the bartender sees us talking and remembers I left with her?”
“Don’t do either one, Allie. Just watch and wait. Leave when she leaves. Clever, huh?”
“Yes. Clever.” The thought made her uncomfortable. “What’s the rest of it?”
“We’ll tell her that we know about the Collective and have proof that she’s one of them. Alison, didn’t you ever wonder why I was Eliza’s assignment? Eliza didn’t know me; if it works the same way every time, Abby should have been the one to get dosed and kill me, but too many people know she blames me for what happened to her. She must have either traded murders with Eliza or bribed her to do mine to keep suspicion off herself. Look, all I want to do is scare her so badly that she’ll pack up, leave town and never look back. End of story.
“Do you think I ought to change my dress? I think black is more appropriate.”
***
Eliza found the key taped under box 1001, exactly where she was told it would be. She opened the mailbox and looked over everything inside it.
You’re kidding me. Austen Boyd? The bankrupt billionaire? The brainless wannabe whose mouth is his own worst enemy? Well! I consider this one a public service.”
A full dossier lay inside the black folder. Before Eliza read it, she began to salivate over what else was inside the folder - a set of keys to a Lincoln Town Car, along with a big wad of money.
Good afternoon,
Purchase a little black dress at Bergdorf’s. You will be posing as a call girl. Billionaire Austen Boyd is the target. His valet has already made arrangements for an escort for this evening’s festivities. You will present yourself as “Jolie Gaspar”. Drive to the address you see here and park in the underground lot. Take the freight elevator and exit at the lobby level. The chauffer will meet you there and escort you to Mr. Boyd’s limousine. Boyd expects you to be up for anything he wants to do. He likes his cocaine, so play along but stay alert. He was going to make a speech tonight at an N.R.A. gala asking for their support of his candidacy for president. You must stop him while it is still possible. Blow the enclosed bag of poison into his face and then shove him out the back door before. After that, you’re on your own. Burn this before ditching the car.
Eliza’s recalled her low end jobs, low end pay, and low end life style. She understood the Silver Man, now. Yes, it did feel good to be the one to eliminate a bastard like that. It would improve life for everyone. People had to learn that when you try to grab it all, you only wind up with a handful of enemies.
***
Clara was so smart about everything else. I wonder why she didn’t realize I didn’t have to go into the Pig n’ Whistle at all. I know who to look for; why risk being seen when I can just wait out here on the street for Abby?
The bartender spoke to Abby in a monotone voice without making eye contact. “I can’t serve you another one. Rules are rules. You can catch a cab outside.”
Abby nodded, stumbled out of the bar and straight into Alison’s arms. The two women got into a cab and headed toward The Ginger Man for round two.
***
Eliza leafed through the literature one more time before burning it. Her weapon was Fentanyl, a dangerous narcotic responsible for a recent rash of overdoses. Despite its highly publicized death rate, Fentanyl remained wildly popular as a synthetic opiate usually mixed with heroin to increase its potency. Even touching the substance could be lethal. It was immediately absorbed into the body, causing the organs to fail within moments.
This is my kind of kill. Quick and easy…
***
The Ginger Man was impossibly crowded, but Clara made her way inside and found a seat at the end of the bar. It was close to last call, and the bartenders were frantically processing everyone’s credit cards. She ordered a tray of ten extremely potent pints of black stout and paid for them in cash before making her way to the fermentation room. Doug had already disconnected the surveillance camera. When the last customer was gone, he locked every door except the back entrance. Hot and impatient, he went straight to the room containing four huge boiling vats of beer.
He slugged down several beers right away. Slowly, deliberately, she slid one hand and then the other into her skin tight mini dress to adjust its strapless cups. His mouth went dry. Two more pints went down the hatch and then two more. Doug was going to be incredibly easy to handle tonight.
Clara slinked her way across the room in four-inch stilettos and pulled him against her. Beginning at the base of his throat, she delighted him with little butterfly kisses that worked their way up to his mouth. He was almost mad with excitement.
“Where’s Abby and your friend?”
“They’ll be here in a few minutes. Doug, where exactly is the video camera? I want to make sure it’s off.”
He pointed to a portrait on the wall directly in front of them. “It’s right over there.”
“Show me how you turned it off. I want to make sure I don’t get you into any trouble, Dougie.”
“Don’t worry about that, Clara. I took care of it.”
“Even so, I’d feel much better if you showed me it was done and how you did it.”
“O.K.” He shrugged, took the portrait off the wall and showed her how he turned the video camera on and off.
“Can we try some of the beer in the vat?”
“Sure, but it’s not done yet. The fermentation process has to complete before the cooling.”
“Let’s taste it hot, right now, Doug. We can just lean over the side and fill our glasses. Whaddya say?”
“I don’t know how good it’ll be, but anything you say.”
“Ah, my favorite words!”
They peered down into the fermentation vat, and Doug told her a little about the process. While he talked, Clara walked around its perimeter, asking questions. When she stood facing him with her back to the camera, she deftly reached behind her and pressed the start button.
“Come ‘ere, big boy. The party starts right now.”
He reached out to touch her hair and heard something completely unexpected. She was laughing. At first he stood there looking confused. Then his face turned red. With a will of their own, his hands shot out and ripped the dress off her. He was beyond self-control, and she knew what was coming, but that was exactly what she’d planned on. He beat her until she stopped fighting back. Her blood was all over him.
Whatever happens now is self-defense, and it’s all on tape. I can’t be touched.
***
Abby was passing out and Alison, who had to drag her for two blocks to the back of the bar, knew in her heart the plan was not going to work tonight. You couldn’t scare an unconscious assassin. That was when she heard Clara scream. She pulled Abby in front of herself as a human shield and burst through the door just in time to see Doug hit Clara in the face. Alison had no time to think. All she saw was a naked and bleeding Clara and that was all she needed to see.
“Get your hands off her!”
Doug turned around when he heard Alison yell; that was his last mistake. She rushed him like a linebacker. He fell backwards over the edge of the tank and into the boiling vat of beer.
Abby was fully revived now. She flew at Alison and the two women fought in earnest, rolling on the floor, kicking, gouging and tearing each other’s hair out. Alison was fought for her life. Abby was a witnesses and there could be no witnesses. She heaved Abby up into the air in an iron grip and tossed her over the side to boil to death.
In then absolute silence that followed, Alison gripped the lip of the vat and stared at the bones drifting in the tank. Then she began to realize the implications of what she’d just done. Oh my God. They’re dead! They’re dead, Clara, and I did it! I can’t think! Why didn’t you tell me the beer was boiling hot?! All I wanted to do was throw them in to cool off a little.”
She looked at Alison, but said nothing.
“Clara? Clara! Why are you looking at me like that?”
Alison understood. Finally. She’d driven the last nail into her own coffin for nothing.
Clara stared into the vat with an enigmatic look on her face. The mask she’d worn her whole life fell away, and she looked triumphant. This was Clara as she really was. The innocent angel in distress was as hard as nails and as cold as ice. Alison couldn’t take her eyes off that face; she’d never forget it as long as she lived.
***
Clara saw no further need to keep up the performance now that Alison had done her dirty work. Still naked and fiendishly beautiful, she turned towards Alison wondering how people could be so incredibly stupid.
She had been very careful to step to one side of the camera while Doug was talking to her in the fermenting room. Her image was never recorded, but Alison’s was.
***
Eliza had the Fentanyl in her clutch bag. She was only halfway into the limousine barely when Boyd let loose. The man seemed to have eight arms, and every one of them were either clutching a breast or clamped between her legs.
“Hey, take it easy, lover. You don’t want it to be over before it begins, do you?”
“I like the way you think, baby. How about some champagne?” Boyd pushed a glass into Eliza’s hand, clinked his glass against hers and swallowed. “Can I offer you some blow?”
“Sure!” Suddenly she realized she had forgotten to take the killing drug.
Now I’ll have to kill him without it. Goddamn sonofabitch! It won’t be any fun at all now. Well, I might as well get it over with, then.
She leaned up into Austen Boyd’s face and licked his bottom lip, then tugged on it a little with her teeth. “How about trying some of my blow first? It’s very high grade, Mr. Boyd. Almost impossible to get. Taste a little bit before you snort it. Come here, baby. Closer. Much closer. Now…open your mouth and close your eyes, and I’m gonna give you one helluva surprise.”
Boyd’s eyes sparkled like a naughty little boy. “O.K., I’m game, I’ll play.”
The instant he opened his mouth, Eliza poured the powdered Fentanyl, all of it, directly onto his tongue. The black glass partition was up, so the driver could neither see nor hear anything happening in the back of the car.
Boyd’s hands flew his mouth. “What the fuck?!”
He spat it out, but it was already too late. His eyes bulged as the light went out of them. Uncontrollable spasms racked Boyd’s body in its death throes. Eliza squeezed her eyes shut, not sure what to do next.
In what was most likely the only act of kindness Austen Boyd ever showed to anyone, he unintentionally saved Eliza from having to make a decision. His right leg shot straight out, propelling her back against her door. A clicking sound initiated, and the next thing she knew, Eliza was out on her ass in the middle of 5th Avenue, watching the limo speed away.