Two days later; deceased's entire family was gathered in his attorney's office. The funeral services went well. The inside one went better, than the outside. The outdoor temperature had to be 110+ in the shade. Problem was, there wasn't any? My client, well whatever, was a wreck, crying the whole time.
Everyone in the office, including the attorney and myself were expensively dressed. I have a number of expensively tailored suits, as I am still a licensed attorney. The point is even a professional can't spot. At this time I happened to be wearing a .22 two-shot Derringer, in an ankle holster. Under the armpit, in a leather holster, nestles my .44 magnum, a ferocious weapon.
The attorney had finished reading the will. It seems the Mrs. seemed to have inherited the majority estate. A house, in Iran, and a small sum of cash, went to the rest of his family. After the reading Mr. Hamseed, the attorney, asked the widow if she wished to keep making the contributions the deceased had started.
"No thanks," she replied. "There are charities to which I belong, of which my husband would approve. I'll stick with those, thanks"
"Well if you need anything from me let me know."
"Will do." and with that she got up and went out the door with me behind her. When we got outside there was already a car waiting.
We had previously told the driver to take us back to the hotel. We sat back in the seat to relax.
"So Eagle," she spoke, quietly. "What now?"
"Well number one," I said. "You can make it Mike."
Well my name isn't exactly Mike, it's not really Eagle either. In the department of assassins we only go by code names. Only the Bossman can connect code names and personal ones. If it truly matters I am John P. Jones, however I did not say this to her. I did say, "Secondly we wait. I mean the rest is up to the opposition, if there is any. The hardest thing I've learned is that 90% of this job is inaction."
After saying this I sat back and relaxed, I mean, totally. She sat there fuming, some can wait and some can't.
My inner clock said it was ten minutes later. The car suddenly began to slow, the stopped. Men were approaching from every side. Both back-seat doors were flung open. Hands reached in and grabbed Achmed she whisked off. I saw her being hustled into another car then it sped off.
I reached across the seat, grabbed the door handle pulled it shut, pushing the lock down at the same time. I had locked my door at first sign of slowing. I then reached over the seat, one hand on top the driver's head, the other under his chin yanked up and twisted, the snap was audible inside the car. I then locked both front doors, and maneuvered myself into the font seat.
I did not feel any remorse, I knew this man was in on this; in fact I had a feeling something was going to happen. I just was not quite ready for the abruptness with which she was swiped.
I pushed him out of my way and got in under the wheel. I was squealing tires within sixty seconds of having been stopped. There was yelling screaming, and pounding all around, as I hauled tail, in the wake of the disappearing vehicle.
Fortunately the freaks in the getaway ride did not notice I had taken control of this vehicle. I slowed immediately after fleeing the scene. I let them get far enough away that they would not notice they were being pursued.
We drove for what seemed to be ten minutes. They did not even check to see whether they were being followed. Obviously they expected their cohorts to follow, with me meekly in the back seat. After a while we drove into a residential area. Sometime after that their brake lights shone, letting me know they were stopping. I slowed even more, taking note of the address they pulled into.
I took a right around the next corner, and then pulled to a stop. I went through the back yard of the house two doors from the one I wanted. I snuck as quiet and stealthily as possible, all the way around the far side of the house. Ducking past windows I made it to the corner.
There was a guy right in front of me. Another one stood on the porch at the other end. Both of them held machine pistols, and were very alert. Fortunately they were also facing away from me. I pulled the magnum out from under my jacket. I took careful aim on the closest man took a breath, and let it fire. The bullet took him high on the side of the head. Blood and brains sprayed the side of the house. The gun automatically took a bead on the second person and shot him, before the first shot could even register on him.
The second man took it in the neck, arterial blood pumping like a sprinkler, flowing everywhere. I sprinted to the porch hopping straight onto it. I was beside the door trying to figure the best way in. I was just about to break down the door and shoot my way in when I heard a gun report from the inside.
I lifted my leg, and kicked, tearing the jamb apart the door bouncing off the inside wall. Inside was the woman I was supposed to protect standing over the body of the man I was sent to kill, a smoking gun in her right hand.
She stuck out her right hand, and grinning, spoke. "Pleased to meet you, they call me snow leopard."
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