I hope you people are happy. This is my fifth draft, and it was not an easy story to write. First of all, because I don't know about anything I wrote about (which should make you feel safer), and second of all, because there's not much on Madam Ko in the books.
Anyway, I did my best, and I think I sound like I know what I'm talking about at least. I love you guys.
As always,
refloc
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
She killed him in one clean shot, and slipped away without setting off the alarm. That was excellence. Real excellence.
Valerie Ko smiled, remembering that night, fourteen months ago. And they'd never caught her. Since then, she'd killed eleven others. It paid rather well, since it was hard for some people to stomach the idea of shooting someone down in cold blood for the money. It didn't especially bother her though. The people she killed deserved to die, and she was doing them a favor, really, by shooting them clean. If she didn't someone half-crazed for revenge would probably torture them to death, sooner or later.
The reason she was so successful, of course, was that no one suspected an eighteen year-old girl of being a hit woman. She still looked young and innocent. It had something to do with the Japanese in her maybe. Or maybe not. But she was small, and looked childish, and definitely not threatening. She wasn't even considered.
If she hadn't kept bothering Rivers she'd have never gotten the job. She suspected he'd assigned to her more to get rid of her than because he thought her capable of it.
After all—
The ringing she'd been waiting for began. Valerie picked up the phone. "Yes?" she asked in clipped tones.
"I've got a client. Why don't you come join us this evening, say around seven?" His voice squeaked out, oily and slick. He sounded round, even over the phone.
"Fine. I'll be there." That was all. Valerie hung up. A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. There had been rumors going around. About someone big paying Chicago a visit. Someone from Europe. Someone with a private army of bodyguards.
Someone with a lot of money.
Valerie checked herself in the mirror. She liked to look her best for these meetings. And how she looked usually surprised people. There was a stereotype out there that said hired killers had to be big, burly, and ugly. And have tattoos, body piercings, rotten teeth, gangster clothes, and a bald head. That was gross. That was all she had to say about it.
After deciding she was presentable, she took the elevator downstairs from her apartment, got in her car, and drove to the restaurant where these meetings were held.
The restaurant was one of those expensive ones, where the waiters were so well trained, that they wouldn't have heard you making plans to blow up the building if you made them two feet away. It was quite safe to hold… "business" meetings there.
Valerie walked in, nodding to one of the waiters, who motioned her towards the back. They were beginning to recognize her now, which was nice. Rivers was sitting with an older looking military man— Russian, it looked like, talking quietly. Two men were also there. Standing. Behind the table. The bodyguards. They were obviously making the waiters uncomfortable with their suspicious glares.
She slipped quietly through the tables, and came to a stop a few feet behind Rivers, waiting for him to introduce her. The two men ignored her a few minutes longer, arguing over some fine point that Valerie didn't quite understand, though she guessed it had something to do with an extra fee. The bodyguards watched her narrowly. It hadn't probably even occurred to them that she was the person being hired.
Finally, the Russian glanced up. For a long moment, he stared at her. Then at Rivers. "Who is that?"
"Your hit woman."
Disbelief confirmed that she'd been right about the guards' ideas. Both of them had to turn away to hide a laugh with a cough. She was used to it now though. People laughed the first time. Never again. Not once they'd seen her work. She was too good for that.
"A little girl?" He leaned forward, locking eyes with Rivers. "Look, Rivers— I was told you had the best in the world at your disposal, and I'm willing to pay quite a large sum! Is this your idea of a joke?"
"Not at all. I'm serious."
"That is the best in the world?" Disgust tugged at his mustache.
Rivers leaned forward, beginning a speech Valerie had heard eleven times before. "She never had any training. Not in anything. Her first time— it was to get rid of her so she'd stop pestering me for a job— her first job, and all by herself, she got Kusac Trabar."
The coughing stopped. Valerie felt all four men's gaze resting on her. Kusac Trabar. The world's most secure man, until his recent death. She killed him in one clean shot, and slipped away without setting off the alarm. Obviously the men were familiar with his security.
"Her? She's the one that got Trabar?"
"She's the one." Rivers leaned back, knowing his job was done, and the deal was set. You couldn't ask for better than that. "It was perfect. No suspects, no clues, no anything. You wanted the best, and you're getting the best— her. And for a reasonable price, I'd say."
It was reasonable. Remarkably reasonable. Only about three times higher than a fair price for a regular killer. He nodded. "Very well then. I think we are agreed."
Rivers smiled, and stood with him. "Good. Good. I'm sure you'll be quite pleased with her performance."
"I trust I will be." He nodded to man who rose from another table. "You speak with her. I have other business to take care of tonight."
He went out, surrounded by various persons who happened to be leaving at the same time. Valerie seated herself as they left, and turned her attention to the man across from her. "Do you have a file for me?"
In silence, he slid a thick file across the table. Valerie skimmed it briefly, ignoring Rivers as he stood, and made for the restrooms. "Alright. That's enough, I believe."
The man paused, uncertain, and finally said: "There was something else, actually."
"Oh?"
"Miss…"
"You may call me Madam."
He nodded. "Alright then… Madam. Your target— is— my younger brother."
Valerie was slightly surprised by this, but she was careful not to let it show on her face. "You must realize that I have agreed to take care of him, and I feel sorry for you, but I have a job that needs to be done. I'm sorry. There's not much I can do, though."
"That's not what I'm asking." He glanced around, and then back at the file in her hands. "He got captured by an enemy of— him, and he knows a lot. More than he should have. Of course he needs to be taken care of, but I want to ask you to do it as quickly as possible. I'm willing to pay quite a bit. And please— one shot only."
Valerie looked at him. "I never use more than one. One bullet. Always. I pride myself on it."
"Quickly?" He hesitated. "This place— it's worse than Trabar's. Much worse. I know you're good, but it's taken people years to get in there, and they've failed their mission. If you could get it done in a few weeks— put him out of it as quickly as possible. The sooner it's done, the more I'll pay you for it, if that's anything."
"Quickly." She stood with a nod. "It will be quick, and painless. You have my word."
"Thank you." He stood, and walked out, imposing, but a little more human than before, because he had a life now, and feelings. He was no longer a toy with a gun. Valerie watched him, and sat there a few minutes more, before getting to her feet, slipping the folder into her case, and leaving the restaurant.
She was woken by a phone call the next morning. Her 'business' phone. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end was rough, and edgy. "Yeah. Rivers told me to call. Said you got a job getting into The Fortress."
"That's what you call it?" Valerie rolled over, picking up the folder beside the bed. "The Fortress? I suppose it must be, though. Everything Mafia is, anyway."
"This is different though."
"How so?" Valerie scrambled for a pen, knowing she'd need every scrap of information. This was going to be hard. Really hard. She hadn't done so many breaking and entering jobs. Those were more difficult. But this was named impossible by the world's big boys in stealth, architect, security, accumulators. Everyone. Everyone said it was impossible to break in, and so far, they'd been all too right.
"There's no way in. Literally. Not in the plumbing, not in tunneling, not in flying— there is literally no way inside, except through one small door. And then, they have checkpoints every fifty feet, and all kinds of tech no one's seen. The place is crawling with men. You have to know hundreds of passwords. To enter rooms, to eat, to sleep, to use the restrooms, to go through the hallways. Everything. You don't give it right off, and it doesn't matter who you are, but they'll shoot you just in case you're not who they think you are."
"So what's your suggestion?" Valerie frowned, pursing her lips in frustration. A job like this would be difficult. Very difficult. Trabar hadn't been so hard, because he relied to heavily on his little army, and locks.
"There are none to give. I was on a team who worked for years to get in there. I was the tech guy. The others were killed a mile from the actual Fortress, as soon as they stepped into Mafia territory. There's no way in. Rivers just thought you might like to know what you're up against. He thinks you can do it. Quite frankly, I don't."
"Why not?"
A rasping cough met her ears as he tried to clear his throat. "Look, I know you killed Trabar, but this is different. There's no way in."
Valerie sighed, and rolled onto her back, glaring at the ceiling. "A question. Are any of the architects still alive? Anyone who helped build The Fortress? Anyone?"
"I've checked. No. Whoever's in charge in there had them all killed. We've never found his name out, by the way. I don't think many of his own men know it. He's just The Tyrant. It's seems childish, I know, but— We couldn't resist it. It seemed fitting."
"Well, thank you."
"Yeah. Good luck, whatever you try."
Valerie hung up, and stood, reaching for her file. More than anything, she needed an idea. An original idea. And those were the hardest thing on earth to get. Whatever you came up with, you could guarantee that someone before you had tried it. Occasionally, you hit on a good idea. One that was absurd enough that no one had planned for it. Then, if you were willing to risk enough for it, you could probably win.
This time, she studied the file, until she could have told most everything in the file to anyone who cared to ask. That was one reason she succeeded. She planned and studied for her jobs.
Finally, she got changed into other clothes— she slept fully dressed, just in case— and went downstairs to get her bike. Where she was going, it wasn't wise to take a car you didn't want stolen. And even though there had been rumors, and people were starting to give her a little more respect, it was still better to be on the safe side.
She rode for about an hour, until she got to a certain bar, and then swung off, setting her bike against the building, and opening the door. It was Tuesday morning. Not many men were inside. Four, to be exact. Shawn: the bartender, and three men who got some of their jobs through Rivers, as she did.
Shawn nodded to her, though she knew her presence made him nervous. He'd heard rumors too, and she rarely visited. A visit, therefore, wouldn't be interpreted as good.
The other men just watched her, waiting to see what she would do. They were silent now, which meant they'd been talking about something that police around the globe would have given quite a bit to hear.
Valerie crossed the room to their table, raising an eyebrow. "Mind if I join you?" It wasn't so much a question though, as a statement. Her tone made it quite clear that she would, and there was to be no protest. She didn't think she'd get it anyway, but she'd rather be safe.
One of the men motioned to the empty chair. Still, they were silent. Waiting for her to say something.
Valerie, however, had no intention of speaking first. She leaned back in the chair, half shutting her eyes, and watching them from beneath long lashes. It made them uncomfortable, which amused her very much.
Shawn broke the silence by dropping a glass, and hurried into the back room, swearing loudly, and shutting the door with a bang.
She said nothing.
"Have you heard anything?" asked one, finally. "I mean— about the big man in town?"
Valerie nodded. "I saw him last night."
"Does that mean—"
"Yes." She shoved her hands into her pockets. The men would be disappointed, no doubt, knowing that the money would not come to them. But let them be.
One of the men she knew slightly better— Trevor— glanced up. "Does he really have an army?"
"As big as Trabar's." Valerie shut her eyes, carefully measuring her breathing. She needed to think. Think about how she could get into The Fortress and kill him.
The third man looked up, and asked abruptly: "Is it true then?"
"Is what true?" Valerie opened her eyes, turning her head toward him, and trying to think.
"You got Trabar."
For a long time, Valerie looked at him. It wasn't good to mention those kind of things. Not good at all. First, because one or more of Trabar's humiliated guards might come after her; and two, because then she'd have a flood of requests, and the police after her. But still, she'd like a little recognition. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes. I did."
The men watched her with new respect, waiting for her to say why she was here. It would not be polite to ask. If they were told, and the police asked questions later…
"I got a bad one, last night."
They exchanged looks. So the job was hard. If she'd gotten Trabar, what could possibly be difficult for her? And why was she telling them? It wasn't like they could help her.
"What do you know about The Fortress?"
Shocked silence. Breaking into The Fortress was such a ridiculous thought, that no one even made any offers anymore. They accepted the fact that no one they hired would be able to, and let go whatever had disappeared inside. That she had been asked was a shock in itself. That she had accepted would give several older persons a heart attack.
Finally, one she knew as a professional art thief sputtered: "The Fortress? The only thing that ever goes in is what they want in! And if you get inside, it's guaranteed you'd rather be elsewhere!"
Valerie looked at him, suddenly realizing he was right. The only people that went in, where those the Mafia wanted to go in. And then it was no problem. You didn't really have a choice. So all she had to do to get in, was make the Mafia want her in.
Trevor was looking at her oddly. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing!" Valerie stood quickly. "Nothing at all. It's just— I know how to get in, now."
"How to get in?" All three stared at her in disbelief.
Valerie nodded absentmindedly, and hurried to the door, anxious to get back to her apartment so she could call Rivers and start her actual planning. She'd need to leave soon.
I decided to shorten my chapters from ten pages back to five. I think five's a better length, give or take a page or so. People with limited web time can get it read, and I get more reviews. :)
One other thing— I've done something I swore I'd never do. I started publishing, and I'm not done writing the story. I swore I'd never start until it was at least half way written, and I knew the ending, and what all my chapters would have. I'm about a third of the way through, and I have no idea what happens, and a vague idea of the ending. I swear I'll do my best though. That one I'll never break. :)
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
