"Wow, Russia is amazing," Jane thought, while hugging her coat closer to her body. She went was in a cab, heading to the headquarters to get her bag. Her job would start tonight at nine PM, and she needed to prepare.
"Есть ли какой-нибудь способ, которым Вы можете торопиться только немного?" Jane said in perfect Russian. "Is there any way you can hurry up?"
"Конечно," the cabbie said with a glance in his rearview mirror at her. "Of course."
"All men are the same," Jane thought, and then stared out the window wishing she were home with John.
John awoke just as the plane was landing in Kentucky. He always did that. Awoke when the plane was landing, that is. John immediately looked over at where the woman had been sitting, and she was still there, reading a book. He could imagine Jane doing the same; cool as a cucumber—that was Jane. Nothing could faze her, at least nothing John knew of. "Maybe my kiss did though," John thought while the plane hit the runway. They were back on land, good-ole-land.
John never had liked flying, but he did love driving, and the company was giving him a Dune Buggy to play around with while he was doing his job. This job would take him to the backcountry of Kentucky. Yay. But on the upside, he would be back in New York by tomorrow morning. And then Jane would be home Sunday night, and maybe, just maybe they would continue where they had left off. "If only, if only," John thought while smiling to himself.
Jane was finally in the headquarters, and the head boss's male secretary was checking her out. "Lovely," she thought while un-crossing and re-crossing her legs. However, her thoughts drifted to John, who was probably sleeping away his weekend—that or playing some video "shoot 'em up" game. He liked those to much, yet he had never asked her to join him. "I would just beat him," Jane thought while a small smile crept onto her face.
"Hello, Mrs. Smith."
Jane looked up and saw a very big, very hairy, and very Russian looking man, decked out in plaid, of all things!
"Hello, Mr. Shnigovlf." She said while standing up and extending her hand.
"So, who are you picking up the package for?" Shnigovlf asked Jane when they got into his office.
"Actually, the bag is for me, I'm doing a job here," Jane said used to being thought of as a secretary. She knew men felt threatened by her when she said that she was an assassin.
"Wow, I would have never guessed," Shnigovlf said with his eyebrows raised.
"It's okay." Jane said while taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs.
Shnigovlf sat behind his desk, and Jane could see that he was proud to be on his own turf.
"You do have my bag, don't you?" Jane said coolly.
"Yes, of course. Let me just get that paged up here for you." Shnigovlf picked up his phone, and talked in Russian in to it. It was too rapid even for Jane, but she picked up a vibe. And it wasn't a good one.
John was over his hangover. He recovered fast. Plus he hadn't had a lot to drink, "it's that plant you gotta look out for," John joked to himself. He was driving out to the temporary base that was set up, ten miles away from the prey's house. Kyle H. Giunish, would be arriving at his mobile home at approximately ten PM, never suspecting that he would be shot in the head for what he had done to those little girls in the middle school only three miles away.
This was a simple task. "Even Jane could do it," John joked again, this time out loud. At the sound of her name John got all tense, and almost drove off the road. "Crap!" He banged his fist against the steering wheel.
When he arrived at the temporary base there was an old, dusty and muddy, brown Jeep. "I thought no one was supposed to be here…" John pondered out loud, and pulled in after the Jeep.