Revenant in Death
an In Death fanfic
by Technomad
Rayleen StraffoNow that she had the place for her revenge chosen, Rayleen began to work on the next part of her project. She had been so absorbed with determining the perfect place and time to strike, she had neglected worrying about this part of the project, putting it off till she knew where and when she wanted to make her move.
She really hadn't put much thought into this stage of things, since it wasn't really her field. But once she started investigating, she found out that this might be quite a bit more challenging than she had allowed for. At least, she thought, I have all the time I need!
The problem she faced was laying her hands on a high-precision long-range laser, of the sort suitable for blowing Eve Dallas' pestilential head off at a nice safe distance and allowing Willow time to escape. Back before the Urban Wars, it would have been difficult, given New York's strict weapons laws, but not nearly as difficult as she found it was when she investigated the question discreetly.
Again, she regretted her lack of criminal contacts. If she'd been wired-in to the criminal underworld, like so many of her former companions in confinement had been, she'd probably have known just where to go and how to go about obtaining just what she needed. It was dreadfully frustrating. She knew those things were out there; there were reports in the news every so often about the police confiscating them. If she only knew the ropes!
She needed to talk with Willow. Willow might have some ideas about who to talk to about getting the weapon they needed. While she considered herself the brains of their two-woman outfit, she knew that Willow had knowledge she did not have. Willow had been older than she was when disaster had struck, and was also far more knowledgable about weapons in general, and long-range lasers in particular.
Unfortunately, she was tied up with Mame's business at the moment. Mame was putting on a series of parties for the social and financial elite of New York, and she needed her "indispensable assistant" at her side nearly every minute to arrange the entertainment, help her choose the refreshments, and vet the invitation lists.
Against her will, Rayleen found herself being absorbed in the task of setting up the events. Mame's encyclopedic knowledge of the ins and outs of New York high society meant that she knew who was sympatico, and who had to be kept separate from whom at all costs. Rayleen was exposed to quite a few secrets that she knew any gossip website would pay her well for, but she knew better than to grab a quick profit by cashing in. However, she made careful mental notes, and transcribed them onto her computer in files that were password-protected. While she did not anticipate leaving Mame's employ, she knew all too well that the future was unknowable, and every bit of salable information she could lay her hands on might one day make the difference.
Roarke's name came up repeatedly, and Rayleen paid very close attention indeed whenever it did. He was invited to several of Mame's parties, and while she did not dare ask directly, Rayleen found out that Eve Dallas would be with him at those events. She made a mental note of which parties Roarke and Eve Dallas would be at, so as to make sure she was unable to attend herself. She did not fear Eve Dallas; she knew that the pestilential Lieutenant had no reason to believe that she was at liberty. And the lack of attempts on Dallas' life since her retirement meant that whatever guards she had would not be on the alert. Even so, there was no reason to tempt fate if she did not have to.
Agnes Gooch turned out to be quite willing to switch off being Mame's right hand at the upcoming parties with "dear Jane;" it took little effort to ensure that when Roarke and Eve Dallas were expected, Mame would have Agnes at her side instead of "Jane." The less she was in Eve Dallas' presence, Rayleen felt, the better. She had underestimated the Lieutenant once, and that had led to decades of derailment and degrading confinement among people she considered almost completely beneath her. She was done taking stupid chances.
Finally, after days of work, a lull came in the preparations. Rayleen diffidently asked for a day off, and Mame smilingly granted it. "You're such a hard worker! It was a good day for me when I hired you, dear! Of course you can have a day to yourself! Maybe you can find yourself a nice young man!" As she smiled and waved farewell, Rayleen reflected that for all her social acumen, Mame was not good at seeing beneath the surface.
Of course, even before her incarceration, Rayleen knew that she had been very good at putting on an act to fool people. Her façade of "sweet, studious little girl" had been enough to pull the wool over almost everybody's eyes, and if she hadn't been damn-fool enough to brag to herself in that stupid diary, even Eve Dallas could have suspected her forever but never had proof that would stand up in court.
With an affectionate farewell to Mame, and a significant wink to Agnes, Rayleen skipped down the steps of Mame's mansion, heading off to her former mini-apt. She had sent Willow a coded message to expect her, and she was looking forward to catching up on things with her old cellie. It'd be relaxing to speak freely with the one person she trusted.
The efficient public transport system of Greater New York did its acccustomed good job, and soon she was coming up from a subway station not far from where she was heading. Striding purposefully down the sidewalk, she automatically smiled at people who smiled to see her. She knew she was an attractive woman, and didn't mind others acknowledging the fact.
When she knocked the coded knock that Willow was listening for, Willow opened the door and welcomed her old cellmate in. "Good to see you, cellie! How's things in high society?" Chattering about inconsequential subjects, Willow led Rayleen into the living room, where she had set out a tray with an assortment of cold cuts, cheeses, condiments and bread, along with two tall glasses of lemonade. Rayleen busied herself putting together a big sandwich and selecting a glass of lemonade before broaching the subject at hand.
"Well, Willow, we've run into a bit of a snag. Basically, where in the world do we lay hands on a weapon?" At this, Willow's eyes went wide and she sat up, paying full attention to the conversation. "I've not got the background to even know where to begin on this sort of thing, but I figured you might well know. Did your dad leave any stashed weapons we could dig up and use?"
Willow looked thoughtful. "I think I remember that he did, but it's been a long, long time. There's been all sorts of opportunities for those things to be located and either confiscated, or stolen and sold on the black market."
"What do you know about the black market?" Rayleen took a bite of her sandwich. "Did your dad do anything on it when you and he were together?"
"Not that I was aware of, but you've got to remember, I was young then, and mainly interested in the kill."
Rayleen suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. While Willow was very useful, she did have her limits. Killing for killing's own sweet sake was not something that Rayleen was interested in. She wanted to take down Eve Dallas, but that was for revenge. Other than that, killing was something to be resorted to only in extremis, at least in Rayleen's opinion. If there were non-lethal options that would leave Rayleen richer or better off, she was perfectly willing to use them.
"Well, we need to find you a piece. One that you think is up to the job. The Davis Hotel is fifteen stories high, remember, and we're not sure just which floor they'll put you on. You're the expert here, and I trust your judgement implicitly. In the meantime, Willow, what would you like to do after we're done taking care of business with our mutual enemy?"
Willow looked rather nonplussed, as though she had never thought about that. And, Rayleen thought to herself, she might not have! While Willow was not unintelligent, she did have a rather limited view of things. "You know, Jane, I really haven't thought about that much. I'd like something to do with shooting, though. That's what I'm best at, and what I like to do."
"I've been giving it some thought. One idea I had was to stay teamed up, and hire ourselves out as assassins. I don't have your ability with long-distance shooting. Hell, I can't shoot at all! I never had the chance to learn!" Rayleen leaned forward, building herself another sandwich. "But I have other skills. I'm a pretty good hand at poisoning, and you know I can sweet-talk my way into, and out of, almost any situation. Between us, we could be a really lethal team!"
Willow thought it over visibly, eventually visibly becoming skeptical. "It's a neat idea, Jane, but how do we make contact with our customers? Once again, we have the problem of not having the right contacts. And how do we make sure we get paid?"
Rayleen nodded. That was a part of that scheme that she hadn't considered in much depth. If they had had adult crime careers before falling afoul of the accursed Lieutenant Dallas, they'd probably have known who to talk to, and who was and was not trustworthy. As it was, they were flying blind in the criminal world, and did not have the information they needed. Both to get in touch with a reliable dealer in weapons, and to let it be known that their services were for hire.
Taking a bite of her sandwich, Rayleen swallowed and said: "I've had another idea, Willow. You know, we don't have to stay together." Willow looked puzzled, but interested. "There are a lot of brushfire wars out there, and some of them have private military contractors." Rayleen privately thought that the euphemism for mercenaries was silly, but it was in general use, and she didn't think it was worth raising a fuss over.
"Yeah. And…?" Willow was clearly intrigued.
"Those outfits can always find work for a good sniper. With your talent, you should be able to just about write your own ticket with them." From what Rayleen had seen and had heard from Willow, that was nothing but the truth.
Willow's eyes went wide. "That would be my dream job! But how would I get hired on by them?" She spread her hands. "I don't think they're interested in taking on an ex-convict with 'mentally unable to work' on her papers!"
"True, that," Rayleen conceded. Inwardly, though, she was exultant. She knew she needed Willow for her current project, and possibly for taking out her own birth family, but she also knew that Willow was not an easy person to keep under control.
While Rayleen saw killing as a means to an end, Willow saw killing as an end in itself. To Rayleen, this was proof that Willow was insane. Killing, at least in civilized areas, was something that drew the attention of the police like nothing else. Both Rayleen and Willow had very good reasons to know that.
Once Willow's usefulness had ended, though, Rayleen had about come to the conclusion that she and Willow needed to come to a parting of the ways. Rayleen intended to go on and get rich, while Willow mainly wanted to exercise her marksmanship and kill people.
"Look, Willow, you know I can make computers all but sit up and beg," Rayleen assured her friend. "Do you think that coming up with a false persona for you, one with the qualifications that would explain your skills, would be that difficult for me?" While US records were tight and hard to play games with, other countries' weren't, and there were several English-speaking countries that Rayleen thought could be passed off as Willow's original home. "Listen. If you decide that you want to go mercenary, I'll help you all I can. I can make you up a set of false ID that'll pass, at least in the sort of places you'll be going. And a lot of those companies aren't any too fussy about whom they'll hire."
"That'd be great! You're the best friend I ever had!" Willow came over and hugged Rayleen, who hugged her back. Inside, Rayleen was smiling. She had no intention of being drawn into the sort of chaos that a potential loose cannon like Willow Mackie could cause, and while she could just kill Willow once she outlived her usefulness, she preferred not to. She was used to deception, to living her life behind a mask, but it was relaxing, at least, to have one person in the world with whom she could relax and be her real self.
` "But that still leaves us with a problem. How can we find someone who'll sell a long-range sniping laser who won't rat us out to the government?" Willow could be a little single-minded, but that wasn't always a bad thing.
"We don't know who will do that. But we have people who do know, don't we?" Rayleen pointed toward the corner, where the mini-apt's personal computer was set up. "Right now, that thing's not really able to do what we want. But I do know how to get on the Dark Net, and there are people on the "IH8LTDallas" forum who will know who to talk to, aren't there?"
Willow's eyes went wide. "I never thought of that!" Rayleen nodded. She had always been the computer expert in their little partnership. While Willow had had the usual training, she did not have the feel for the machines that Rayleen had. And finding the Dark Net, under Rayleen's tutelage, had been a revelation for her.
Willow started toward the computer, but Rayleen put out a hand, restraining her gently. "No, Willow. I'll want to do this myself. I'll want to get myself a computer connection that isn't tied directly to either of us, so that if someone does think of monitoring the Dark Net, they won't be knocking at our doors." While Mame Burnside was quite tolerant, she would, Rayleen knew, not approve of any part of their little plan. And untraceability on something like this was essential to survival. "In the meantime…you know I'd like to get rid of my birth family. What do you say to a trip up into Connecticut? Scout the venue out, maybe spot some good vantage points?"
"I'd enjoy that. Other than the range, I haven't been anywhere much since I got out, and I would love a change of scenery!" Since they were both in agreement, and the weather was nice, they were soon on the public transpo, headed into suburban Connecticut.
Rayleen was a little worried about Willow, but Willow proved to be a good traveler, at least in the short time that they were traveling. When they debarked, Willow looked around herself in wonder. "Do people really live this way?" she asked, in a low voice. Rayleen had to admit that the suburban neighborhood they were in was quite a contrast to Manhattan, or to the area where her mini-apt was.
"Come this way, Willow," Rayleen said, her voice low. "Don't act like a hayseed on your first visit to the big city! We're a couple of nice city girls out for a bit of refreshing suburban air!" Unobtrusively guiding Willow along, Rayleen headed toward the area where her birth family now lived.
The houses were separate, each in its own yard, unlike New York City itself. The area had been largely spared by the Urban Wars, and many of the houses dated from the early twentieth century. It was a school holiday, and children of all ages romped and played in the yards.
When they got to the house occupied by Rayleen's birth family, they noticed that two teenagers were out in the front yard. They walked by, ostensibly paying the youngsters no particular attention, and the teenagers themselves were too busy to pay them any mind. There were others out and about enjoying the day, and they were not at all conspicuous. In some places, mostly farther West, Rayleen knew that walking about on foot was unusual enough, due to the way the neighborhoods were laid out or due to extreme weather, that a couple of women just out sauntering would draw attention.
"Those are my brother and sister, Willow," Rayleen said, her voice pitched low just as she would have done while in confinement to frustrate eavesdroppers. "Take a good look at them." The teenagers were busy playing with a lawn game, and Willow watched for a minute, seeming, to any observer, to be nothing but a woman taking a casual interest in what the game was. Then, before Rayleen's siblings could notice, she went on, joining Rayleen a little way up the street.
"Easy as pie, cellie," Willow murmured. "Completely unsuspecting! And look at all these potential places to set up!" She waved her arm around, inviting Rayleen to look at their surroundings. There were many trees, some of them in tight copses, and some of the houses themselves looked to be vacant, with realtors' signs in their front yards. "Anybody could do it!" Unobtrusively, she snapped pictures with a little camera she had palmed in her hand. Rayleen knew that she'd be analyzing the best approach, and left her to it.
When they were done looking around, Rayleen and Willow headed back toward the transpo station, talking lightly of this and that, so that anybody who happened to overhear them wouldn't hear anything suspicious. When they got back to the mini-apt, they chatted for a while. Rayleen made Willow laugh with stories about life as Mame Burnside's assistant, and Willow recripocated with some tales of what was going on in the neighborhood. Finally, as afternoon drew on toward evening, they parted, since Rayleen needed to be back at Mame's place. She had till the next day to report in, but she had noticed even before her incarceration that being early to things like that was an excellent way to shine her reputation. Mame was a very valuable person to Rayleen, and Rayleen wanted to make sure that Mame thought the world of her.
Back at the Burnside mansion, Rayleen pulled out her portable computer. She needed to find a nice anonymous place to get on the Net, so that she could access the "IH8LTDallas" forum. Doing so from her place of employment, or with a computer that could be traced to her, would be tatamount to inviting the police to come after her. Her new persona as "Jane Mollenbeek" was very useful, and she had no intention of relinquishing it if she didn't have to.