The Hit
Chapter 6
Charity stood up with the empty glass in her hand, looking down at her sleeping bodyguard. Drake lay passed out on the couch, his head drooping to one side.
Her plan actually worked. It was a gamble since Drake hardly ate or drank in front of her, but after making the room as warm as she could, he must have been dying, especially in his suit. She had smelled the salty sweat in his feathers when she had poured the rest of the spiked lemonade down his throat.
She was about to leave to go search the mansion when she realized that Drake must be uncomfortable. The room was sweltering, and he wasn't in a comfortable position. He may have made her job a hundred times more difficult, but he wasn't a terrible person.
After turning off the space heaters, she took off those stupid sunglasses that the duck insisted on wearing everywhere, even inside the dark entertainment room. She set the glasses on an end table before preparing to take off his jacket. She unbuttoned it before sliding it over his shoulders when she stopped. He had a shoulder holster on. That's why he never took his jacket off, even at the theme park.
Leaving the jacket on, she leaned him over so he could lay prone across the couch with the arm rest pillowing his head. Then she cranked up the AC, opening all the vents. Hopefully that would make him more comfortable without waking him up. She didn't know how long the pills would keep him under, but hopefully it would be enough to find what she needed.
Hesitating a moment, she rolled her eyes as she thought that Drake didn't look so bad when he was asleep. There were no creases on his forehead whenever Charity did something he didn't like, and his beak was relaxed instead of that forever frown of his.
Taking out her phone, she took a picture and sent it Sunny.
You're welcome, she texted with a smirk.
Exiting the entertainment room, Charity kept an eye out for any housekeepers or anyone else that worked for Starling. She had taken off those torture devices that people called high-heels to walk bare-clawed against the tile, relishing the feeling of not having plastic or leather pinching her toes. Sneaking back to the door she was at the day before, she pulled out the pick-locks that Sunny had given her, trying to remember the instructions as she jammed a pair of thin wires into the key hole. Within minutes, she was done with the subtle twisting and turning and was ready to kick the door down if it wasn't for the fact that it would break her cover.
She growled at the door and slapped it before sitting down and glaring at the one thing she wanted.
"Miss, are you okay?"
Charity froze, an icy finger going down her spine. Slowly, she turned her head.
Fenton waited in the lounge area for a half hour before he began snooping around. He took Drake's warning that he wasn't allowed in most of the mansion to heart, and prepared a slew of excuses if he were to run into anyone. However, there was always the chance that even an innocent excuse could get him killed. The FBI agents that had gone under cover didn't disappear because they went on an unplanned vacation.
He looked around the kitchen and the rooms nearby, getting an idea of the floor plan as well as checking for anyone around. He heard nothing other than the hum of the refrigerator and a few other noises, none that told him that anyone was close by.
Leaving the area he was allowed to stay, he kept his guard up as he poked his bill in every door he could find, systematically looking through the mansion. He found a few bedrooms that looked like "servant's quarters," from the old days, and perhaps the maids and housekeepers or the guards slept inside the mansion. After that, he found a few closets, a pantry, a study which he searched in-depth to find nothing incriminating before he headed farther into the mansion.
He didn't get far before he found Miss Charity sitting on the floor and growling at a door. He watched for a moment, trying to figure out why she was there. What was she doing? Where was Drake Mallard? Shouldn't he be with her?
Something was wrong, but he wasn't certain what.
"Miss, are you okay?" Fenton asked, perhaps wondering if something had happened between Miss Charity and Mallard. It was obvious the male duck didn't like the lovebird. Maybe they had a fight. Or maybe he had told her that her fiancé wants her dead and she's upset.
Charity turned around slowly, her eyes wide. Wow, with a face like that, why was she with Jim Starling? She could have gotten any guy she wanted, yet she was with a man over fifteen years her senior. Did she really not know what kind of man Starling was?
"Um…no," Charity said, shifting and positioning her body in a very vulnerable way. "I'm not feeling well, and I went looking for some medicine."
"Is the medicine through this door?" Fenton asked, reaching for the knob.
"It's…ah…" Charity sputtered.
Fenton turned the knob and opened it.
Charity gazed at the door in disbelief. "It was open already?"
"Huh?" Fenton asked. He looked beyond the door. "Oh, this leads to the basement. Are you sure the medicine is down there?"
Charity stood up, smiling awkwardly. "Yeah, Jim keeps some down there. I'll just go get some. You should go back to the lounge. If Jim finds you in the main part of the house, he'll be livid."
Fenton knew for a fact that Starling wasn't in the house at that moment. Not to mention, even if he was caught, he didn't care about being fired from being a chauffeur. "Let me go get the medicine. You should go rest." Which would give him ample opportunity to look around the basement.
"No, it's okay. I know where the medicine is, so I can get it myself," Charity said, her voice stronger.
"But if you're not feeling well, then you should rest," Fenton said, urging the lovebird to do as he said.
She glared at him.
And for the first time, Fenton had an inkling why Drake Mallard complained about Miss Loveatte.
Fenton sighed. "How about I go down with you just to make sure you're alright?" he suggested. He could always go back down later.
Charity considered this before accepting these terms.
Together, they descended the stairs by the light of a single bulb. Passing through another door, they came into what appeared to be a large storage room filled with boxes. There were so many boxes that there was only room to move through a narrow path.
"Is the medicine in one of these boxes?" Fenton asked, his imagination going wild. What was in those boxes? What kind of evidence would he find if he opened each one?
"Uh…," Charity's voice drifted off. "I think so?" She lifted the lid of one, looked inside and scowled.
"Is your medicine in that one?" Fenton asked, looking over her shoulder. Inside was just paper. Blank paper.
"Sorry," Charity said, replacing the lid. "It's a little disorganized down here. It might take me a while to find it. You should go back upstairs."
Fenton wasn't to be deterred. "Two can search as quickly as one," he said, lifting the lid off one box. Discreetly, he pulled out his phone, bringing up the camera app so he could quickly take pictures, taking off all sound and the flash. As he took pictures of the contents of several boxes, he glanced back at Charity to see if she was watching.
After a while, Fenton realized what was going on. Charity wasn't looking for something for a headache or a cold. She was looking for drugs. That must be it. That's the reason she was with Starling. A beautiful, kind girl like her was enthralled to the mob boss because he supplied her with whatever she was addicted to. And that must mean there were drugs down here in one of these boxes. Or they could be hidden in something inside the boxes, like a statue. He had read a book where drug dealers had done that.
After opening a dozen boxes, he found nothing incriminating, although everything seemed completely random. But he took pictures of everything anyway.
"Oh, you know what, I think Jim had someone take the medicine upstairs and put it in the bathroom," Charity said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm so dumb."
Fenton pretended to laugh but couldn't help thinking that Charity just didn't find what she was looking for. Was she expecting drugs and her fiancé had moved them, knowing how addicted the lovebird was? It was too bad he didn't find any good evidence. "Let's get you upstairs where you can rest," he said, saddened that his mission was a failure as well as the fact that such a nice girl was under a negative influence.
"You don't have to help me. I think I'm feeling better," Charity said, waving him off once they were back upstairs.
"Nonsense," Fenton said, following her. "I can't let Nega—er—the boss's fiancé collapse while on my watch."
That's Mallard's job, he thought with an inaudible growl. Where was that bodyguard anyway?
"No, it's really okay," Charity said, standing in front of a door and barring his entrance. "I'm really feeling better. I'll go sit down right now and rest. I really don't want you to get into trouble."
Suddenly, there was a crash on the other side of the door along with a moan.
"What was that?" Fenton asked.
"Uh…" Charity's eyes were wide but she refused to move. "It was probably the movie."
"It sounded like Mallard," Fenton said, pushing past Charity to get inside the room. He had a bad feeling that something had gone wrong.
Charity swore several times under her breath. Why did the limo driver have to be such a snoop? It wasn't terribly inconvenient that he came down into the basement with her, but it made it so much harder for her to look for anything that could help her and the girls. She had taken pictures, but the only thing that looked even remotely interesting was gallons of iron oxide.
But now things were going wrong. If this guy…what was his name…Fenton? If he found Drake passed out, she could just convince him that he fell asleep, right? It's not like he knew that sleeping wasn't something Drake did while on the job.
She readied a believable lie for the chauffer as she heard Fenton call out, "Mallard? Mallard? Get up."
"I guess the movie was too boring for him," Charity said, gesturing to the foreign film. It had almost put her to sleep even with the subtitles. "That sometimes happens. He's a deep sleeper. It's almost impossible to wake him up."
Fenton gave her a disbelieving look before checking Drake's pulse. That's when Charity realized that Drake was no longer on the couch. He must have rolled off which had caused the noise from before. This plan was becoming much more frustrating than she thought it would be.
"His pulse is too fast. Something's wrong," Fenton said, lifting up Drake's eyelids to see the whites were bloodshot.
"Wrong? What do you mean?" Charity said, her voice becoming more concerned. Had she given Drake too much drugs? Did he have an allergic reaction to the sleeping pills? Was her cover about to be blown?
"I think he's been drugged," Fenton said.
Duh, Charity thought as she put on her stupid girl act. "Really?" she asked with large, frightened eyes. "Why would someone drug Drake?"
"You're in danger, Miss Charity," Fenton said. Lifting up his pant leg, he pulled out a gun from a harness.
And then Charity was frightened for real. Oh crap. The "false alarm" from yesterday had given her an inkling that her life might be in danger but had only crossed her mind for a minute. Drake had said he had made a mistake, but perhaps he was lying so she wouldn't be scared. Yeah, that's something he would say to a ditsy, wishy-washy girl he had to protect. Maybe there really was someone out to kill Charity.
And she had been stupid enough not to carry a pistol on her. With her skimpy outfit, she didn't have anywhere to hide it, and her purse was on the couch, too far away for her to grab.
Grabbing the pitcher of lemonade, she flung it at Fenton before racing out of the entertainment room as fast as she could, glad she had taken off her high-heels. However, instead of racing around like an idiot teen in a horror movie, she merely stepped to the side of the door, silent and waiting.
"Wait, it's not what you think," Fenton called out, his voice pleading. "I'm here to help you."
Yeah, like that would work even if I was stupid, Charity thought with a smile.
The second that Fenton walked out the door, she rammed an elbow into his face, stunning him. She grabbed his hand, disarming him of his weapon before flipping him over her shoulder where he landed on the tile floor squarely on his back. She finished him off by standing spread-eagle over his chest and punching him in the middle of his forehead, knocking him out.
Blowing back some hair, she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Oh, that felt good. It had been so long since she had been able to practice her hand-to-hand combat skills.
But how was she going to explain this to…well…anyone? Someone was going to notice an unconscious body in the hallway eventually. Even now, she could hear someone walking through the foyer.
Time to act the damsel in distress.
Grabbing a vase of flowers on a table nearby, she dropped it on the floor where water and pottery scattered in all directions. That only caused the footsteps to move faster.
She couldn't cry on demand, so she pulled out a tail feather, which brought tears to her eyes. Breathing hard and looking upset, she raced down the hallway into the foyer to run into Starling's second in command, Bulba.
"Please, help," she cried, racing to the bull. "There's a man. He has a gun."
Bulba pushed her behind him as he pulled out an immense gun from a shoulder harness and stalked in the direction Charity had fled. He paused at the hallway, glancing around the corner before he relaxed.
"I think you're safe," Bulba said.
Charity huddled where she stood, widening her eyes. "Is he gone? Did he escape?" She made her voice high-pitched to the point it hurt her own ears.
"No, but you did hit him with a vase, right?" Bulba inquired.
Charity nodded.
"He won't be hurting you," Bulba said, putting his gun away.
"Did I kill him?" Charity asked in a small voice. She knew she hadn't. The guy would wake up with a headache, but wouldn't be worse for wear. Well, at least until Starling got ahold of him. She moved closer to Bulba as the large bull knelt over Fenton.
"No," Bulba said, fingers against the duck's neck. "I think you should go upstairs, Miss Charity. I need to make sure the perimeter is safe and that this guy came alone."
Charity nodded, pretending to quake in fear. Oh, and there was one more loose end to wrap up. "Drake's in there," she said in a shrill voice, pointing to the entertainment room. "He said he did something to my bodyguard. I think he drugged Drake."
Bulba nodded then gestured for Charity to leave.
Heading up the stairs, Charity gloated inwardly. Not only had she gotten Drake out of her way for the moment and taken down a hitman by herself but she was practically given a free pass to snoop in Negaduck's inner sanctum. She couldn't have planned it better.
Heading directly to Starling's office, she didn't waste any time. Rather than looking at each individual paper on his desk, she just took photos. Sunny and Martha could go through them later. There wasn't much to photograph—Starling was meticulously organized for a murderous psychopath—so she turned her attention to the computer. Dialing Martha's number, she connected to the swan so that together they could hack into Starling's network.
If all went well, they would find those bank records and break into the vault within a day or two and then she could kiss her fiancé goodbye.
Bulba's phone call was a surprise to Starling. He had an iron-clad rule that he was not to be disturbed while in important meetings with the exception of emergencies. If Bulba was calling, then it must be important.
"Your fiancé has proven to be a formidable foe," Bulba said, his tone filled with humor that didn't fit in with an emergency call.
"You're talking about my Charity?" Starling asked with a raised eyebrow. The only areas he would use that term for her was in regards to spending money and trying to get into her pants.
"I'm standing over what appears to be an assassin," Bulba said. "She knocked him out with one of your million dollar Ming vases."
Starling's surprise was worth that million dollars. "She did?" He laughed.
"I didn't think you would find it so amusing, especially since this is the second attempt on her life that has failed," Bulba said.
"I find it more entertaining than irksome," Starling said, meaning it. When was the last time he had so much fun trying to kill someone. It's too bad that Charity had shown disloyalty lately. If she had a hidden fire within her, he would have enjoyed being married to her.
"What would you like me to do with the guy?" Bulba asked.
"Is he still breathing?"
"Yes."
"Stash him somewhere. I'd like to talk to him," Starling said. "It takes a lot of balls to break into my house to try and murder my fiancé, so he has my attention."
"Okay. See you later, Jim," Bulba said before hanging up.
Starling put his phone away before turning back to the woman that was across the table from him. "It looks like you have some competition."
"I heard you opened this hit out to anyone," the woman said, her yellow eyes were so otherworldly that they almost look demonic. "Let the amateurs try. They're like puppies pretending to be wolves."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll show them up, Lady of the Shadows," Starling said, smiling at the duck with green feathers.
