I'm in the business of freelance executions, and it's a very profitable way to work towards a healthy financial retirement. I'm smart and stay alive by living by my set of rules: Always get paid in cash; always get the job done; never get curious; never get in over my head.
The job has been going well. I had everything under control. But my gut was telling me I needed to break ties with the boss man after today because I stayed alive for a reason: I listened to my intuition. If something didn't feel right, then cut it loose. But Boss Man was the type of character who was as intelligent as he was crazy. I've never met him, just done business over the phone and carried out my orders flawlessly on more than one occasion, but you get a sense for who you're working for after the hundreds of contracts I've dealt with.
Christmas Eve, I should’ve been enjoying a quiet drink in front of my fire and be toasting another successful year of completed contracts, but instead I got called to a high-paying job in Colorado, which started out a piece of cake, I only had to follow the mark, watch him shop and be waiting back at his car for him.
It was a straightforward kill met with no resistance.
Once the first part of the contract had been fulfilled the boss man had me leave ‘the package’ containing a freshly severed head at the base of a Little Free Library book swap stand in Denver, Colorado nestled in snow, last night.
This one looked like a large birdhouse painted in blue and white with colorful birds painted on the roof. It was cute, but the head in the plastic bag in the box was not.
I knew one of Boss Man’s contacts would be watching me making sure to retrieve the drop-off and I picked up the thick envelope, which was nestled between books inside the Little Free Library, containing my fee and photos and information on the next part of the job.
Y’all, this is how I wound up at the Carter Private Airstrip four miles south-east of Anchorage, Alaska after flying here overnight from Colorado.
The boss man was convinced those he hunted would make a run for it as soon as he revealed the head I cut from that unlucky sonofabitch.
And he was right.
The boss man said sometime today they would fly out of Anchorage using a private airfield, one not opened to the public. Carter Private Airstrip fitted the bill. Forest surrounded it, the perfect airstrip to afford them privacy and I could make my way through the dense surrounding trees, which contained walking trails, with little suspicion. Because I was just a cowboy hat; cowboy boot wearing hiker out to enjoy the trails on Christmas Day.
Boss Man currently has eyes on one other private airstrip nearby, just in case, his assumption was incorrect.
It wasn’t.
Carter Private Airstrip appears closed today but for the two white trucks that just pulled up. The manager had arrived forty minutes earlier. I knew who he was from their website—staff photos and all—and watched as he expertly used the pushback tug to guide the planes out of the large hangar, which housed both the luxury private planes.
One man got out of the first truck and greeted the manager. I snapped off a couple of photos while they had a short discussion before luggage was being pulled from one of the trucks and then distributed onto both planes. I think Boss Man was under the assumption they would flee in one plane, but it appears two are ready for takeoff.
Didn’t matter to me. I’d already snuck onto both planes and bugged them. Soon enough I would know their plans and be able to pass the information onto Boss Man.
My simple task for today was to take many photos including the tail numbers and proof the targets were on the planes. Then I was to get out of there without engaging and report back in.
I’m doing my easy task from the window of a smaller shed I broke into earlier.
I didn’t have to wait long to confirm, from the photographs in the information packet, the two male targets and the pretty brunette was in attendance.
There was one small hiccup. Two overweight, dead security men’s bodies lie slumped against each other behind me, their blood-soaked uniforms marred by the bullet hole through each of their hearts. They caught me just as I disappeared into the shed.
The first fuck up, for the day. I was too busy concentrating on picking the keyhole, and they snuck up on me. Nothin' to be doing about it, but to let them think they had the upper-hand and allow them to follow me inside.
They were shaking in their boots, guns raised, no clue what they were gonna do with a cowboy on a B&E. I gathered this airstrip didn't get much action if any, especially when it came to a trespassing freelance killer with a penchant for breaking and entering.
I'm a quick draw. It was over before the security guys could blink. They didn't have time to react; they rolled over like two big barrels, the silencer on my gun ensuring their muted deaths.
I didn’t need those two casualties—but nothing to be done for it.
I had to hope the two dumplings weren’t noticed as missing, which was a long shot because I wasn’t banking on the manager fronting up. My plan was now ad-lib; figure it out as I went.
In the meantime, I got to gather some mighty excellent intel, which I'd already forwarded to Boss Man. That Edge guy was a wealth of information as he gave it all up for my ears because the listening devices would be useless once they were in the air. Medford, Oregon was where the little bitch was headed now. A detour before driving down to San Diego.
All I had to do was wait it out and get my ass out of Dodge and collect the rest of my paycheck.
The first plane took off with the pretty gal on board, but then the manager of this airstrip had to come driving up in that little security buggy, a red flag my luck was about to go sour, and things were about to get sticky. Further proof of my predicament came with a meeting of the minds because the dumplings weren't on the job.
Why the fuck couldn't they have all been on that first plane which had flown the coop? I would be walking outta here to collect my money; now I had to wait it out for these clowns to move on.
I knew shit was about to get real, but I was well hidden. Nobody could tell if this shed was locked or unlocked from the outside.
I would make my escape once they dispersed to look for the two dumplings. There was no need to look in this smaller shed first.
But then fate has a way of fucking with your plans.