I walk across the street from my parked car, my body clad in street clothes as I ready myself for the ordeal. After hours of hacking into cell phone networks I'd finally found out that they were meeting in the basement of the bar across the street ten minutes from now. I moved into the restraunt, sitting there in the window. I'd reserved a table for two, and stared out the window. It was designed to make me look like a girl waiting for her date to arrive. I watched the targets enter the tavern. I counted the twelve of them and nodded to the waiter as he came by filling my glass again. I down the drink slowly, pulling a cell phone out pretending to be bored. It was not stupid to hide things in plain sight. This included lookouts. The man across the way, reading the paper. The bouncer at the door to the bar. But then again this wasn't my first rodeo.
A formrr black ops officer with techniques most likely unique to this city were things that these men would never be capable of suspecting. Let alone that she looked like a normal girl in her early to mid twenties. I drop a few bucks on the table as I stood and left. It was a generous tip for just a few ice teas. Stuffing my hands in my pocket I walk across the street toward the man with the news paper.
"Excuse me, have you seen a young man around here. About Five foot ten, short dark hair athletic build?" I ask, trying to act sweet. "I'm supposed to be meeting him and it seems like he's gotten lost or run off on me. I just ask because I couldn't help but notice you from across the street. You've been standing here for a while so I just thought I'd ask."
I was expecting him to buzz me off or flat out ignore me. That's what most lookouts do. They have to keep their eyes on the world around them and anyone distracting them was a liability. He shakes his head and I sigh thanking him. I get into my car and drive away. I have plenty of time for the size of this meeting. I've also planned ahead. There are two men sitting in a car not far from the bar, armed.
Climbing out of my car a bit later I grin. The most common cover an agent uses is a utility worker. So a simple call to the gas company and you create a very convincing distraction. As the van pulls up I watch the two men move around the back to check on the gas main on the outside. And following them are the three agents on the outside. I walk toward the car, looking around before leaning in the window. I smile tossing a pressurized paint gun into the floor of the car.
The active ingredient in pepper spray is capsaisan. Commonly found in hot sauce and chili peppers. Juiced and mixed with rubbing alcohol and put in a CO2 powered paint gun and you have a homemade pepper bomb. Taking a nail gun from my coat I press it to the door and pull the trigger twice before rolling over the hood of the car and repeat the maneuver with the other door. With a few well placed nails in the door of a car it prevents the latch from releasing, thus preventing the doors from opening. Using homemade items makes it impossible for the police or anyone else to track you down. A teargas grenade sent up red flags. It made people suspicious but if it was homemade it made you harder to track because you can find the ingredients pretty damned well.
Pushing the door open to the bar I walk in, heading right for the bar, my eyes hidden behind my wrap around sunglasses. Sitting at the bar I smirk. Only the bartender. That meant they were in the basement or in the back room. The bartender had to be in on it. He smiles at me as he puts a glass down in front of me.
"So what can I get you girl?" he asked.
"Well I'm looking for a few friends of mine. They might not have shown up yet. We're going to dinner and my friend told me to meet them here." I said.
Normally an unsupported board creaked. There were always points in a floor where something was weak Normally not where people usually walked. But I hadn't heard anything since I'd entered. Then again it was very possible that the boards had been reinforced. I smiled at the bar tender and waited for the man to speak.
"Well I'm afraid we've been dead all day." he said.
"But I saw some guys come in here. Guess they must have left. Oh well. I thought that was them." I say, as I shrug. "Can I get a Royal Paradise?"
"Sure, fine." he said, shrugging.
I watched him turn back to begin mixing the drink. When he turned back I drew my gun from under my arm, the hammer cocking back as he put his hands up, dropping the glass.
"Leave it or I blow your brains all over your bottles. Where are they?" I ask, watching him.
"In the back... Third door on the left downstairs." he said, his weight shifting slightly.
Most silent alarms were done by hand, a button under the bar or in this area of the city a shotgun under the bar. With a sigh I shake my head and move around the bar, my gun never leaving him. I'd be happy to pull the trigger. Nobody is stupid enough to go running into a deal with the black wings shooting. But then again a true con artist never bet anything unless there was no way they could lose. I spot that he'd stepped on what appeared to be a silent alarm button. Shrugging I pull the trigger, the bullet tearing into the side of his head. Picking up a knife from the counter I carve XYZ into the bar top.
Reaching into my pocket I grin, drawing a jar. The combination of bleach and ammonia creates a powerful but crude version of mustard gas. While this might look like a pro did it, any pro could make it look like a gang hit. But then again a blatant gang hit would be stupid. But if it looks like a pro did it with a few minor mistakes could make it look like a gang hit. Moving to the back I stood there opening a door. A jar full of ammonia, put in a jar with bleach. A perfect weapon made with house hold cleaners. Most pros didn't use homemade things because they had big business backing them, keeping them hidden from the eyes of the police. Putting the jar down inside the door I kick the door shut.
I can hear the jar tumbling down the stairs but no breaking sound. I hear people cry, "Grenade!" and can only assume they dive for cover. Opening the door I raise my gun. I take aim slowly imagining them all waiting for the inevitable explosion that would never come. Pulling the trigger I watch the bullet fly out slamming into the jars, shattering them. I watch the chemicals mix and grin, closing the door. Grabbing a near by chair I drive it against the door, and wedge it in place. Taking the nail gun out I nail the chair in place to the door, and then the two legs on the ground to the floor. They wont be getting through that very easily.
Walking around to the front I grin as the door pushes open. They heard the shots. The first guy comes in, his eyes widening when he sees the pretty young thing that asked for help standing there, a big ass revolver leveled at him. He doesn't even have time to lift his pistol. I fire twice, putting a bullet in both sides of his chest. As the second man comes in he catches the first guy and a bullet in the throat. It passes through and pocks off the ground into the side of the car that had been watching the building. Turning I walk toward the back. Any team would send two one way, and one the other.
Flicking my wrist, the gun breaks down the center, the empty shells flying out as I pull a handful of bullets out. I load before flicking my wrist again and kick the door open. I grab a near by apron and throw it out, grinning as the nervous man with a rifle fires quickly. As he fires I lean around the corner and empty my gun into his chest. Reloading I stuff my gun in my pocket and wait out back, by the dumpster. I grin as I watch the chair shift slightly. There might be a lot of them pushing but their bodies aren't as hard as wood, they're choking, and they're only getting weaker by the moment.
I grin as the pounds against the door die down and I put my gun away in the holster before taking my wallet out. I flip it around, taking my IDs out of the slit before I move around to the front. I'm not a bad forgery artist. If anyone stops me because of my gun I can show them the ID from the police station. Anyone trying to arrest me would find that and most likely believe I was a cop. The numbers were too random. I took a little bit from five different people at the station. I walk away, reaching up to touch my neck and alert my contractor that it was done. Even if someone could track the call a woman without a cell phone or ear piece could never be making a phone call! Cops were truly stupid sometimes.
(1,675)
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