Okay here we go with. Chapter 7 enjoy! I might post 8 later today once I
get the bugs worked out of it (
*-*-*-*-* Dylan opened the door and the Thin Man, Anthony stood there wearing a white bathrobe identical to the one she wore, his feet bare, and carrying his ever present cane. In his other hand he had a pad and a pen. He pushed her back into the room and onto the bed. He sat on the small stool that matched the vanity. "What are you doing," asked Dylan slightly taken aback that he was in her room.
Anthony scratched out a note that read, "I could ask you the same thing."
"Working," she answered defiantly. Although she wanted answers from him she wasn't going to reveal her hand if she could help it- not that she had much of one.
Anthony looked at her trying to determine how much she already knew and when her friends would show up.
"Aren't you going to say anything," she asked. He raised an eyebrow at her when she used the word 'say'. "Say, write, draw, aren't you going to communicate in anyway," she said correcting herself.
"What is your job?" He wrote next showing her the pad.
"Honestly, I haven't a clue." Once again an eyebrow went up. "Really I was supposed to be hired by this Chief guy. After that I would find out more and since I'm now here I guess I will find out more although not from the people who were suppose to tell me. Maybe you can tell me why I am here." She removed the white cotton towel from her head and vigorously dried her hair with it.
He worked hard to suppress a smile at her rambling and tried to judge how much of what she had said was the truth and wrote, "For an assassination."
"Whose?"
Anthony was surprised she really didn't know why she was there, but it was his turn to ask a question, "Where are your friends?"
Now it was Dylan's turn to try to determine how trustworthy he was and how trusting she should be. He tapped at the piece of paper tired of waiting for her answer. "On their way," she said lying. He didn't need to know that Natalie and Alex had no idea where she was.
"Who exactly is the Chief," was her next question to him and it came as a surprise. He was starting to get worried. Someone, presumably the man she worked for Charlie, had sent her in to this and hadn't told her a thing. He simply wrote, "A man you need to be careful with."
"Like you," she asked. He didn't react just watched her. "He didn't seem too tough," continued Dylan. "After those guys last night and Seamus O'Grady I doubt I'd have problems with the Chief," she said giving him an arrogant smile.
Anthony stood to go but he had one last question. He stepped towards her and touched the medallion that hung from her neck then wrote, "Why?" So far that was the one that was the one thing she couldn't answer. How could she be honest with him when she couldn't even be honest about that with herself. So she looked at him and said, "Why not?" Then she reached behind her neck and fumbled with the clasp. Anthony shook his head 'no' and placed his hand on hers to stop her from removing the medallion. As she lowered her hands he reached out and grabbed one of her red-gold locks. A ripping sound filled her ears. "Ouch," she yelled rubbing her head. "Must you do that every time I think I might be starting to like you?" At that he smiled and left the room taking his treasure with him.
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan was awoken by a persistent knocking at her door. She didn't have time to put on the wig so she wrapped her hair up in the towel from earlier that lay across the foot of her bed. She answered the door and the maid handed her the clean clothes. She tried to thank the woman but she scurried off. She went back inside and got dressed and placed the ebony wig on her head.
When she was finished there was another knock at her door. She opened it to find Jorge the driver there. "Miss," he said giving her a small bow, "The Chief would like to see you now."
Dylan shut the door to the room. Jorge led her down the winding marble staircase and down a long corridor. "Is the Thin Man coming," she asked referring to Anthony by the name he was called at the competition. Jorge said nothing until they approached a dark oak door at the end of the hallway. Once at their destination he opened the door and told her to go inside. She walked around the antique folding screen that blocked the door from the area near the desk. Anthony was already seated in one of the wing backed chairs in front of the large marble slab that made up the Chief's desk.
"Miss Danress," said the Chief. "It is so nice of you to join us."
She took the seat next to Anthony's. "As I was saying to your new partner in crime, there will be a lot of security around the target. Almost impossible to get close to him, but I have feeling that the two of you will work well together. I had that feeling from the moment you stepped into the ring together. The way you fought was melodic. Like the treble and bass lines of music, different but harmonious. Let me tell you I was truly impressed and that looking at the contestants last night you were the two I thought least likely to succeed."
"Thank you," said Dylan interjecting, "but can we get back to the assignment." Anthony looked directly at her and from his stare she could tell she had goofed up. The Chief gave her a poisonous smile. "Well Miss Danress, I see you don't know the rules here yet so let me make myself clear. I am the Chief. You do not speak unless you are spoken too. I admire your fighting skill but I won't hesitate to kill you. Minnelli is still available should I need to replace you," he said coming around the desk and placing a dangerously sharp manicured nail against her jugular. "Am I understood?"
Dylan didn't let her fear show, boldly she said, "Yes Chief."
The Chief started laughing. "She is full of fire isn't she? If I liked women I would take to her in an instant. Now you wanted to know more about the job. You'll find out more soon. The client is coming in about a half an hour. I wanted to get to know you two. Anthony's reputation precedes him, but you Miss Danress are a bit of a mystery." The Chief watched her for a reaction. "May I call you Lucrezia?"
"Lucy."
"What," he asked.
"Call me Lucy."
"Wonderful! Lucy, that black hair of yours reminds me of the girl from the Peanuts comic strip. You have her feistiness too. So tell me about you where were you born? What did your parents do? Why become a hired killer?" The Chief sat on the edge of his desk, crossed his ankles and swung his legs back and forth.
Anthony sat back watching her, his finger tips making a pyramid. He was interested in seeing how she would answer the questions posed to her. Dylan watched the two men and tried to recall her bio from the folder Mitchum had given her. She thought she could probably make something convincing up but decided the FBI must have given her the information for a reason. Taking a deep breath she began, "I was born in Lansing, Illinois. My father was a bookie and my mother worked as a maid in a hotel in downtown Chicago."
"Why did you become a hired killer," the Chief asked again.
The answer to that question had been in the folder but she couldn't remember it. Her mind was blank. "Damn," she thought, "why didn't I practice? Because I thought Mitcum was pompous and overbearing, that's why," she answered herself. She decided to give him the same answer she had given Anthony early when he asked her "Why" as well. She looked the small man straight in the eye and said, "Why not?"
The room was quiet. None of them moved and finally the Chief busted out laughing. "You are wonderful! 'Why not?'" He slapped his knee and bent over holding his stomach. "I don't think anyone has given me such an honest answer before," said the Chief hoping off his desk. "Everyone always come here and when I ask that question they give me a "Miss America" answer: 'I hate my fellow man', 'I do it for my starving children', 'it's the family business', but you my dear are unique and gutsy." Just then a buzzer rang. "I have to step out of the room for a bit but will return shortly, make yourselves at home." The Chief was still shaking his head and laughing as he exited leaving Dylan and Anthony alone.
Anthony scratched out a note and handed it to her, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"No," she said angrily as he wrote some more.
"You really don't know anything about this job do you? Who sent you in here blind," read the next.
"Anthony," she said sweetly, "one would think you actually care."
"I do, about the money." He wrote handing her the paper.
"So you just don't want me to mess up so you get your money is that it," she asked and he nodded 'yes'. That 'yes' from him hurt her deeply but she didn't want to admit it. Why did she think he would care about her? She reprimanded herself mentally for letting his remark bother her and made sure it didn't show. "He's a killer Dylan that is what he does. He has no feelings. So what if he saved you from O'Grady that doesn't change who he is," were thoughts running though her mind.
There were footsteps and voices in the hall. Anthony snatched the sheets of paper out of her hand and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket just as the door opened. The Chief held the door open as the person he was talking to rolled into the room accompanied by the hum of the motor of the electric wheelchair. Jorge appeared and moved the screen aside as the Chief said, "May I present you both with the person who hired us for this job," said the Chief. Dylan and Anthony seated in their chairs came face to face with their new boss. Both of them barely managed to suppress their surprise at recognizing the woman in the wheel chair, "Vivian Woods".
*-*-*-*-*
"Anthony," said Vivian, "well well, I wouldn't have thought that I would have the pleasure of working with you again." She looked Dylan up and down. Anthony didn't answer but only wondered how she managed to live through the explosion that had nearly killed both of them. "Still as quiet as ever," she said wheeling closer. "And who do we have here? A female hired killer?"
Dylan looked at the broken Vivian Woods. She had felt as though someone punched her in the stomach when she found out Anthony was a live the night before but this was almost too much. Vivian Woods was alive; her once lovely face was severely scared by the burns she from the exploding missile. She still wore a plastic mask to help with healing her facial burns, the hair on her head was obviously a wig, her left hand was claw like stuck in a contraction caused by the fire to which she had been exposed.
"This," said the Chief showing Dylan off like a "Price is Right" model would a refrigerator, "is Lucrezia Danress. She is an excellent fighter and I am sure she will be a marvelous asset to you."
"Lucrezia, well aren't you attractive," she said with a spiteful tone. "Keep in mind that beauty won't last a life time. You should focus more on your mind like I do. That will last you much longer." Dylan relaxed a bit as she realized Vivian didn't recognize her. Vivian wheeled closer to them. "I suppose you want to hear about your mission. It's quite simple you just need to go in and kill the president of Codyne Industries."
Codyne Industries was a manufacturer of nothing more than screws, rivets, nails and other assorted attachment paraphernalia. They had the world market cornered on the little pieces of metal they produced. Dylan wasn't sure why she was there. She was told by Matthews who supposedly knew more about this case than Mitchum that it would "upset the course of the US for a long time," but she didn't see what Donald Getty's death would have to do with that. She missed the angels. Normally one would know what the other two didn't; one would have an idea that would make everything fall into place. Right now Dylan felt like nothing made sense but she was in this now for the long haul until the FBI pulled her out.
"You'll find the Mr. Getty's person schedule here," she said handing Anthony a manila folder. "I personally want this hit to be dramatic. Watched world wide so even if the populace doesn't know what is happening right away they will come to understand the importance." Anthony flipped through the copies of pages from Mr. Getty's date book and circled something with his pen. He handed the folder to Dylan who then looked at it. He had circled the thirtieth of September, the next day, the World Trade Conference in Chicago hosted at the Chicago Hilton.
"I see you found a date already Anthony. I should have known you would work fast. What did you pick," asked Vivian.
"The World Trade Conference, tomorrow in Chicago," answered Dylan.
"I like it," said Vivian who started coughing violently. Suddenly a woman in nurse's uniform came into the room with an oxygen bottle and gave Vivian a sip of it. "In case you are wondering Lucrezia, you don't mind if I call you that do you," she asked, "I was nearly killed three years ago by a missile that was shot at me by my lover. It wasn't on purpose he was trying to kill some other people and unfortunately Anthony and I got in the way. How did you escape Anthony," she asked the quiet man seated to her right. Anthony met Vivian's eyes in defiance. "Oh yes," she said her eyes growing distant as she remembered that day, "as we rolled tied together in a rather thick iron chain it managed to unwrap from him first. Our rolling had kept the flames out but once we stopped I felt the first ones enter my hair. I couldn't even get my arms up to pat them out as they were pinned to my sides. I could see his suit jacket caught in the blaze and him drop to the ground to smother the flames then he got up and stood back to watch the flames consume me." She paused and looked at Anthony who betrayed not a trace of emotion. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't have gone back into the inferno to save you either. Do you have one of those cigarettes you always smoke?"
The nurse who had been silent told her she should not with the oxygen in the room. "Then leave and take that damn oxygen with you. I want a cigarette," she snapped at the young woman who scampered from the room. Then more calmly, "It's been forever since I had my last." Anthony reached into his jacket and produced the silver case. He held it out to her and she took on with her good hand. "I couldn't smoke, well I could but I had such and intense fear of the fire. Light it for me will you?"
Anthony patted himself down and couldn't locate his lighter. Dylan produced hers and lit the cigarette that Vivian held elegantly between her index and middle finger. "Let me see where was I," said Vivian as she inhaled deeply eyeing the lighter which looked somehow familiar to her. "The latex of my jumpsuit melted to my skin, it's still embedded there in various places not that you can tell the new skin as covered it pink and still very tender in places but that hurt more than the fire itself. Have you ever played with candle wax," she asked looked at Dylan.
"Yes, I think most people have," replied the angel in disguise.
"Some times it gets too hot and you burn your finger tips. The melted latex at that temperature is like the candle wax but ten..no a hundred times worse and you can't get it off, as your flesh melts it mingles together. I remember screaming and screaming and praying that I would die. Then I blacked out. I woke up in a hospital three months later and had no idea who I was. So now you know how I became disfigured."
*-*-*-*-* Dylan opened the door and the Thin Man, Anthony stood there wearing a white bathrobe identical to the one she wore, his feet bare, and carrying his ever present cane. In his other hand he had a pad and a pen. He pushed her back into the room and onto the bed. He sat on the small stool that matched the vanity. "What are you doing," asked Dylan slightly taken aback that he was in her room.
Anthony scratched out a note that read, "I could ask you the same thing."
"Working," she answered defiantly. Although she wanted answers from him she wasn't going to reveal her hand if she could help it- not that she had much of one.
Anthony looked at her trying to determine how much she already knew and when her friends would show up.
"Aren't you going to say anything," she asked. He raised an eyebrow at her when she used the word 'say'. "Say, write, draw, aren't you going to communicate in anyway," she said correcting herself.
"What is your job?" He wrote next showing her the pad.
"Honestly, I haven't a clue." Once again an eyebrow went up. "Really I was supposed to be hired by this Chief guy. After that I would find out more and since I'm now here I guess I will find out more although not from the people who were suppose to tell me. Maybe you can tell me why I am here." She removed the white cotton towel from her head and vigorously dried her hair with it.
He worked hard to suppress a smile at her rambling and tried to judge how much of what she had said was the truth and wrote, "For an assassination."
"Whose?"
Anthony was surprised she really didn't know why she was there, but it was his turn to ask a question, "Where are your friends?"
Now it was Dylan's turn to try to determine how trustworthy he was and how trusting she should be. He tapped at the piece of paper tired of waiting for her answer. "On their way," she said lying. He didn't need to know that Natalie and Alex had no idea where she was.
"Who exactly is the Chief," was her next question to him and it came as a surprise. He was starting to get worried. Someone, presumably the man she worked for Charlie, had sent her in to this and hadn't told her a thing. He simply wrote, "A man you need to be careful with."
"Like you," she asked. He didn't react just watched her. "He didn't seem too tough," continued Dylan. "After those guys last night and Seamus O'Grady I doubt I'd have problems with the Chief," she said giving him an arrogant smile.
Anthony stood to go but he had one last question. He stepped towards her and touched the medallion that hung from her neck then wrote, "Why?" So far that was the one that was the one thing she couldn't answer. How could she be honest with him when she couldn't even be honest about that with herself. So she looked at him and said, "Why not?" Then she reached behind her neck and fumbled with the clasp. Anthony shook his head 'no' and placed his hand on hers to stop her from removing the medallion. As she lowered her hands he reached out and grabbed one of her red-gold locks. A ripping sound filled her ears. "Ouch," she yelled rubbing her head. "Must you do that every time I think I might be starting to like you?" At that he smiled and left the room taking his treasure with him.
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan was awoken by a persistent knocking at her door. She didn't have time to put on the wig so she wrapped her hair up in the towel from earlier that lay across the foot of her bed. She answered the door and the maid handed her the clean clothes. She tried to thank the woman but she scurried off. She went back inside and got dressed and placed the ebony wig on her head.
When she was finished there was another knock at her door. She opened it to find Jorge the driver there. "Miss," he said giving her a small bow, "The Chief would like to see you now."
Dylan shut the door to the room. Jorge led her down the winding marble staircase and down a long corridor. "Is the Thin Man coming," she asked referring to Anthony by the name he was called at the competition. Jorge said nothing until they approached a dark oak door at the end of the hallway. Once at their destination he opened the door and told her to go inside. She walked around the antique folding screen that blocked the door from the area near the desk. Anthony was already seated in one of the wing backed chairs in front of the large marble slab that made up the Chief's desk.
"Miss Danress," said the Chief. "It is so nice of you to join us."
She took the seat next to Anthony's. "As I was saying to your new partner in crime, there will be a lot of security around the target. Almost impossible to get close to him, but I have feeling that the two of you will work well together. I had that feeling from the moment you stepped into the ring together. The way you fought was melodic. Like the treble and bass lines of music, different but harmonious. Let me tell you I was truly impressed and that looking at the contestants last night you were the two I thought least likely to succeed."
"Thank you," said Dylan interjecting, "but can we get back to the assignment." Anthony looked directly at her and from his stare she could tell she had goofed up. The Chief gave her a poisonous smile. "Well Miss Danress, I see you don't know the rules here yet so let me make myself clear. I am the Chief. You do not speak unless you are spoken too. I admire your fighting skill but I won't hesitate to kill you. Minnelli is still available should I need to replace you," he said coming around the desk and placing a dangerously sharp manicured nail against her jugular. "Am I understood?"
Dylan didn't let her fear show, boldly she said, "Yes Chief."
The Chief started laughing. "She is full of fire isn't she? If I liked women I would take to her in an instant. Now you wanted to know more about the job. You'll find out more soon. The client is coming in about a half an hour. I wanted to get to know you two. Anthony's reputation precedes him, but you Miss Danress are a bit of a mystery." The Chief watched her for a reaction. "May I call you Lucrezia?"
"Lucy."
"What," he asked.
"Call me Lucy."
"Wonderful! Lucy, that black hair of yours reminds me of the girl from the Peanuts comic strip. You have her feistiness too. So tell me about you where were you born? What did your parents do? Why become a hired killer?" The Chief sat on the edge of his desk, crossed his ankles and swung his legs back and forth.
Anthony sat back watching her, his finger tips making a pyramid. He was interested in seeing how she would answer the questions posed to her. Dylan watched the two men and tried to recall her bio from the folder Mitchum had given her. She thought she could probably make something convincing up but decided the FBI must have given her the information for a reason. Taking a deep breath she began, "I was born in Lansing, Illinois. My father was a bookie and my mother worked as a maid in a hotel in downtown Chicago."
"Why did you become a hired killer," the Chief asked again.
The answer to that question had been in the folder but she couldn't remember it. Her mind was blank. "Damn," she thought, "why didn't I practice? Because I thought Mitcum was pompous and overbearing, that's why," she answered herself. She decided to give him the same answer she had given Anthony early when he asked her "Why" as well. She looked the small man straight in the eye and said, "Why not?"
The room was quiet. None of them moved and finally the Chief busted out laughing. "You are wonderful! 'Why not?'" He slapped his knee and bent over holding his stomach. "I don't think anyone has given me such an honest answer before," said the Chief hoping off his desk. "Everyone always come here and when I ask that question they give me a "Miss America" answer: 'I hate my fellow man', 'I do it for my starving children', 'it's the family business', but you my dear are unique and gutsy." Just then a buzzer rang. "I have to step out of the room for a bit but will return shortly, make yourselves at home." The Chief was still shaking his head and laughing as he exited leaving Dylan and Anthony alone.
Anthony scratched out a note and handed it to her, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"No," she said angrily as he wrote some more.
"You really don't know anything about this job do you? Who sent you in here blind," read the next.
"Anthony," she said sweetly, "one would think you actually care."
"I do, about the money." He wrote handing her the paper.
"So you just don't want me to mess up so you get your money is that it," she asked and he nodded 'yes'. That 'yes' from him hurt her deeply but she didn't want to admit it. Why did she think he would care about her? She reprimanded herself mentally for letting his remark bother her and made sure it didn't show. "He's a killer Dylan that is what he does. He has no feelings. So what if he saved you from O'Grady that doesn't change who he is," were thoughts running though her mind.
There were footsteps and voices in the hall. Anthony snatched the sheets of paper out of her hand and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket just as the door opened. The Chief held the door open as the person he was talking to rolled into the room accompanied by the hum of the motor of the electric wheelchair. Jorge appeared and moved the screen aside as the Chief said, "May I present you both with the person who hired us for this job," said the Chief. Dylan and Anthony seated in their chairs came face to face with their new boss. Both of them barely managed to suppress their surprise at recognizing the woman in the wheel chair, "Vivian Woods".
*-*-*-*-*
"Anthony," said Vivian, "well well, I wouldn't have thought that I would have the pleasure of working with you again." She looked Dylan up and down. Anthony didn't answer but only wondered how she managed to live through the explosion that had nearly killed both of them. "Still as quiet as ever," she said wheeling closer. "And who do we have here? A female hired killer?"
Dylan looked at the broken Vivian Woods. She had felt as though someone punched her in the stomach when she found out Anthony was a live the night before but this was almost too much. Vivian Woods was alive; her once lovely face was severely scared by the burns she from the exploding missile. She still wore a plastic mask to help with healing her facial burns, the hair on her head was obviously a wig, her left hand was claw like stuck in a contraction caused by the fire to which she had been exposed.
"This," said the Chief showing Dylan off like a "Price is Right" model would a refrigerator, "is Lucrezia Danress. She is an excellent fighter and I am sure she will be a marvelous asset to you."
"Lucrezia, well aren't you attractive," she said with a spiteful tone. "Keep in mind that beauty won't last a life time. You should focus more on your mind like I do. That will last you much longer." Dylan relaxed a bit as she realized Vivian didn't recognize her. Vivian wheeled closer to them. "I suppose you want to hear about your mission. It's quite simple you just need to go in and kill the president of Codyne Industries."
Codyne Industries was a manufacturer of nothing more than screws, rivets, nails and other assorted attachment paraphernalia. They had the world market cornered on the little pieces of metal they produced. Dylan wasn't sure why she was there. She was told by Matthews who supposedly knew more about this case than Mitchum that it would "upset the course of the US for a long time," but she didn't see what Donald Getty's death would have to do with that. She missed the angels. Normally one would know what the other two didn't; one would have an idea that would make everything fall into place. Right now Dylan felt like nothing made sense but she was in this now for the long haul until the FBI pulled her out.
"You'll find the Mr. Getty's person schedule here," she said handing Anthony a manila folder. "I personally want this hit to be dramatic. Watched world wide so even if the populace doesn't know what is happening right away they will come to understand the importance." Anthony flipped through the copies of pages from Mr. Getty's date book and circled something with his pen. He handed the folder to Dylan who then looked at it. He had circled the thirtieth of September, the next day, the World Trade Conference in Chicago hosted at the Chicago Hilton.
"I see you found a date already Anthony. I should have known you would work fast. What did you pick," asked Vivian.
"The World Trade Conference, tomorrow in Chicago," answered Dylan.
"I like it," said Vivian who started coughing violently. Suddenly a woman in nurse's uniform came into the room with an oxygen bottle and gave Vivian a sip of it. "In case you are wondering Lucrezia, you don't mind if I call you that do you," she asked, "I was nearly killed three years ago by a missile that was shot at me by my lover. It wasn't on purpose he was trying to kill some other people and unfortunately Anthony and I got in the way. How did you escape Anthony," she asked the quiet man seated to her right. Anthony met Vivian's eyes in defiance. "Oh yes," she said her eyes growing distant as she remembered that day, "as we rolled tied together in a rather thick iron chain it managed to unwrap from him first. Our rolling had kept the flames out but once we stopped I felt the first ones enter my hair. I couldn't even get my arms up to pat them out as they were pinned to my sides. I could see his suit jacket caught in the blaze and him drop to the ground to smother the flames then he got up and stood back to watch the flames consume me." She paused and looked at Anthony who betrayed not a trace of emotion. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't have gone back into the inferno to save you either. Do you have one of those cigarettes you always smoke?"
The nurse who had been silent told her she should not with the oxygen in the room. "Then leave and take that damn oxygen with you. I want a cigarette," she snapped at the young woman who scampered from the room. Then more calmly, "It's been forever since I had my last." Anthony reached into his jacket and produced the silver case. He held it out to her and she took on with her good hand. "I couldn't smoke, well I could but I had such and intense fear of the fire. Light it for me will you?"
Anthony patted himself down and couldn't locate his lighter. Dylan produced hers and lit the cigarette that Vivian held elegantly between her index and middle finger. "Let me see where was I," said Vivian as she inhaled deeply eyeing the lighter which looked somehow familiar to her. "The latex of my jumpsuit melted to my skin, it's still embedded there in various places not that you can tell the new skin as covered it pink and still very tender in places but that hurt more than the fire itself. Have you ever played with candle wax," she asked looked at Dylan.
"Yes, I think most people have," replied the angel in disguise.
"Some times it gets too hot and you burn your finger tips. The melted latex at that temperature is like the candle wax but ten..no a hundred times worse and you can't get it off, as your flesh melts it mingles together. I remember screaming and screaming and praying that I would die. Then I blacked out. I woke up in a hospital three months later and had no idea who I was. So now you know how I became disfigured."