"Самое время, Смит." "It's about time, Smith," the driver said while Jane slipped into the unmarked car in front of her hotel. He shifted in his seat and looked at Jane. "Святое Дерьмo," he said when he saw her. "Holy Shit!"
Jane smiled, while the driver stumbled over his words in Russian to say that he was sorry. He just averted his eyes and drove off to the Golden Apple Hotel. Jane checked off stuff in her head. When they arrived in front of the hotel, she had checked and re-checked her list three times. She was ready indeed.
Jane gave the man a smile and said thank you. He looked aghast while Jane stepped out of the car, and into the chilly night. Even though it was only 15 degrees Fahrenheit, it felt great to Jane, who was wearing her favorite fur coat. She clutched it around her, and walked into the lobby of the luxurious hotel. Looking around, she spotted three guards searching the lobby. No doubt Mr. Ligori hired them, the man she was going to send to hell tonight.
He was a horrible man; Ligori owned several Asian sweatshops, Thai prostitution houses, and was a known drug dealer. However, the cops couldn't ever catch him dirty handed. Ligori was very good at what he did. He always passed the drugs on before the cops could get to him. Jane had read his profile only two days ago, and it had been outstandingly sneaky. He purchased drugs from his friends in Columbia, and then shipped them across the Pacific to Thailand. He would store them in the basements of his prostitution houses, where meetings would be held to auctions off the stuff. The leftovers would be flown to Russia, via one of his many private jets. Once past the Russian security, he would place them in great warehouses along with slinky lingerie the children made in the sweatshops. Jane had to give it to him, someone with all that dirt, and he hadn't been caught, until tonight.
John was safely back at the base, packing up everything he would need into his dune buggy. He would be ready to leave in less then ten. First he would call Jane, to see if she was all right. John felt like shit rushing her off the phone like that. Picking up his cell phone, she dialed her number, and listened to it ring and ring. "Jane where the hell are you?" He asked the phone. It clicked over to her voicemail, and John got gooey all over just hearing her smooth, seductive voice. God he wished he could just kiss her right now.
John left a quick message, and hung up the phone before he got even more distracted than he already was. He pocketed his cell phone, and fingered his keys in his pocket. "Okay," he said aloud. "It's time to roll."
John got into the buggy, and set off down the back dirt road leading right too Kyle H. Giunish's house. The ride was fun as hell, and John could barely feel the time slipping away while driving the buggy around. When he checked his watch it was time to park at the top of the forest-covered hill, and watch out for his prey.
After he parked, gotten his sniper out, and checked the time, John got out Giunish's profile, and read it over again, to make sure he didn't fuck anything up.
Crime—the report read—kidnapping middle school girls, ranging form ages 12 to 14, and raping them (sometimes multiple times over). After raping them, Giunish kills them, in varying ways. Some that have been found include: chopping them into pieces and burying them. Burning them alive and keeping the ashes on the mantel of his fireplace, and finally torturing them.
John was disgusted. He threw the folder onto the seat next to him, and started to gag. "What kind of sick bastard is this?" John thought. He would enjoy shooting the son of a bitch, right between the eyes.