Authors: Chuck Barrett
Most of her kills had been similar to this. Cozying up to her victims in order to deflect any suspicion and above all, to get them to let their guard down. She could have killed Teresa Kingsley earlier in the evening. She had the opportunity. But that wasn't her plan. There were probably other ways she could have gotten herself into the Kingsley's condo, but this was the plan she liked best. She thought about Teresa and how naïve and trusting the woman was. But that was how it always was, just when she was getting to like someone, she had to kill them. The ruse was always part of the scheme. Too bad for them that Teresa Kingsley was so stupid—or at a minimum, naïve.
She glanced down at the balcony again; Martin and Teresa Kingsley would not see another sunrise.
She methodically checked her equipment. She pulled out the silenced Sig Sauer SP Mosquito with the threaded barrel from her fanny pack. She was unfamiliar with the pistol but on this island, she would take what she could get. Her employer had arranged for the delivery of the weapon. It was an ideal weapon for a close range kill. The mosquito would fire a .22 caliber round into her victim's skull. Enough power to penetrate but not enough to exit leaving the bullet to ricochet inside the brain, stirring up the gray matter like a blender.
Next she tossed the nylon rope over the edge and clamped the rope with her gloved hands. She hoisted herself over the edge and lowered herself down the side of the West Tower. When she reached the Kingsley's balcony she leaned over and grabbed the metal railing and pulled herself to it. She slid over the balcony rail and secured the rope to it.
She had memorized the layout of the condo in her head and even counted the steps from the balcony to the kitchen to the bedroom. She slid open the balcony door and stepped inside using the curtains as cover—just in case Martin Kingsley got up to go to the bathroom or the kitchen in the middle of the night. She knew it wouldn't be Teresa; the alcohol should keep her out for much longer.
Love crept in the room, all quiet. She turned on her penlight with the red lens and made her way through the kitchen, and counted the steps to the bedroom. She heard Martin Kingsley snoring and followed the sound. She flashed the red light across the bed. He was sleeping on his back, his breathing labored. Teresa was underneath a jumble of covers and pillows. Love would handle her after Martin.
Suddenly Kingsley stopped breathing. Love extinguished the penlight and stepped away from the bed. Martin sat up in the bed and took a huge gasp of air. He sat upright for several seconds before falling back on his pillow. Sleep apnea, she thought. The older man she dated in college had it. Same symptoms. Now Martin Kingsley would meet the same fate.
When the man's snoring resumed, Love stepped forward and without hesitation fired two shots into Martin's head. The snoring stopped. She turned on the penlight—blood and brain matter cascaded from his skull, across the pillow, and onto the sheets—he was dead.
Love walked around the king-size bed and sat on the edge next to Teresa. The woman roused, shifted to her side, and fell back asleep.
Love removed her left glove and placed her hand on Teresa's head. She slowly stroked the sleeping woman's hair.
"That feels nice," Teresa muttered in a half sleep state.
Love removed her hand.
"Don't stop, Martin." Her speech still slurred from alcohol.
"It's not Martin," Love whispered.
"Oh Abby, you're still here. That's nice. I thought you were Martin."
Love could tell Kingsley wasn't really awake, just drifting in and out of a drunken slumber. She reached out and put her hand on Teresa's cheek letting the back of her fingers slide down the woman's neck and across her shoulders.
Kingsley moaned and arched her back. "Abby, you're the best friend I've ever had."
Abigail Love pulled her hand back and stood beside the bed. She slipped her glove back on her hand and smiled. "Goodbye, Teresa."
"Goodnight, Abby." Kingsley muttered with a slight giggle. "I'll see you in the morning."
Love raised the firearm and pointed it at Teresa Kingsley's head. "No, you won't." She fired the weapon twice in rapid succession putting two dime-sized holes in the woman's head.
F
rancesca leaned
across the car's center console as Jake logged into the secure website with his new, Wiley engineered iPad courtesy of METech, Wiley's Texas factory. Wiley's special design integrated the tablet and his miniature Bluetooth headset allowing for continuous encrypted video and audio communication to Wiley's new facility in Fairfax, Virginia. They were parked on a dark street behind Boden's residence on Ballantrae Farm Drive in McLean, Virginia.
Before Jake and Francesca left Belgium for Washington, DC, Wiley had informed him a new employee would be their handler for the hit on Boden. Jake followed the prompts and placed his thumbprint in the square on the screen to complete the authentication of the 24-digit password he'd just entered on the keyboard. After the scan the screen blinked and a familiar face appeared on the live feed.
"George?" The man on the screen was George Fontaine, a CIA analyst he'd worked with on a number of occasions. "How did you—"
"Just like old times, huh Jake?" Fontaine said.
"What are you doing at Commonwealth? Did Bentley loan you to Wiley for this op?" Jake knew the discord between him and Boden was no secret to Fontaine, but President Rebecca Rudd led him to believe the CIA wasn't involved in the hit.
Commonwealth was the name of Wiley's newest company in Fairfax. The four-story building bore no signs just letters stenciled on the entrance door, which read
Commonwealth Consultants.
"Nope. Don't work for the Agency any more. I work at Commonwealth now…for Wiley."
"Wiley only goes after the best. Congratulations, George. Great to have you on board."
"Wiley made a convincing offer. I would have been a fool to turn it down. Nearly doubled my salary and the benefits are better. Plus I was already retirement eligible with the Federal Government so now I can double-dip." Fontaine paused. "Is Francesca with you?"
Jake turned the tablet toward Francesca. "Yeah, right here."
"Francesca, don't let Jake get you into trouble," Fontaine said. "He's been known to go rogue."
She laughed. "Don't worry, I can handle Jake."
"Okay, good." Fontaine said. "From here, I can handle most everything. I've already gained control of the security system. His doors will be locked," Fontaine paused, "Francesca, I hear you're pretty good at picking a lock."
"Inherited skill," she said, "my father was a locksmith. He taught me the tools of the trade."
Jake looked at her. "You never told me that."
"You never asked."
Fontaine continued. "If Boden sticks to his routine, then we'll have no problems." Jake watched Fontaine turn toward another computer monitor then back toward his video feed. "Boden is leaving the reception now. You have about fifteen minutes before the limo drops him off. He's alone. Kyli's solution for Boden's P.A. worked. She called a taxi and left in a hurry. We have confirmation that she is inside her Tyson's Corner residence."
"Good. One less thing to worry about," Jake said.
"Just curious," Fontaine said. "But what exactly was Kyli's solution to guarantee Boden's P.A. would leave and go home?"
Jake turned the iPad toward Francesca. "You want to handle this one?"
"One of Wiley's emissaries spiked her drink at the reception. The formula was supposed to induce severe menstrual cramps." Francesca explained. "And start her monthly flow."
"T.M.I. Francesca," Fontaine said. "T.M.I."
"You're a handler for an assassination," she said, "and this bothers you?"
"Men have boundaries, you know." Fontaine laughed. "I'll have the alarm offline by the time you two reach the house. I suggest you leave now."
"On our way," Jake said. "Nice having you along, George."
Jake first met Fontaine after CIA director Scott Bentley recruited Jake to assist in the capture of a former Irish Republican Army assassin who was involved in an arms deal with al Qaeda.
He again worked with Fontaine when he was part of a team who mounted a midnight raid to rescue a captured CIA operative in Yemen. That was the turning point in Jake's life, when he met Elmore Wiley. He didn't realize it at the time but Wiley had been grooming him as an operative for his own organization. Now, he was one of Wiley's most active emissaries.
An eight-foot high stone fence surrounded Senator Richard Boden's property with remote controlled iron gates guarding the circular driveway. Boden's pie shaped lot was at the end of a cul de sac in a prestigious neighborhood.
After Fontaine gave them the okay, Jake and Francesca scaled the stone fence, dropped into the spacious back yard, made their way past the oval shaped swimming pool, and to the glass French doors leading to the downstairs living room. Within seconds, Francesca picked the lock and Jake and Francesca entered Boden's residence.
He locked the door when they were inside. Jake spoke into his headset. "George, we're in."
Seconds later the security system rearmed.
Jake looked at Francesca and smiled. "Right on time." He pointed to the front door as headlights from a car illuminated the glass. "Let's get in position."
Beeping from Boden's security alarm announced the senator's arrival followed by keypad sounds of the deactivation code.
For the next five minutes Jake heard Boden rummaging around in the kitchen doing his usual routine of pouring himself a drink of water and sorting through his nighttime pillbox. The door to the study opened and Boden walked across the room using only the light from the foyer to guide him. Boden stood behind his desk and flipped on his desk lamp. He jumped backward at the sight of Jake sitting in the chair in front of his desk.
"You." At first Boden's voice quivered, then Jake noticed it became indignant. "What is the meaning of this? How did you get in here? Get out of here at once."
Boden turned toward the door as Francesca closed it.
"Who the hell are you?" He shouted.
"I'm with him." Francesca pointed at Jake.
"Sit down." Jake stood and walked toward the old man. "Sit down, now. We're going to talk."
"You don't intimidate me. Get the hell out of my house…and take her with you." Boden picked up the receiver to the phone, held it to his ear, then slammed it back down. "You cut the line to my phone?"
"Nope." Jake held up the end of the phone line. "Just unplugged it."
"I should have had you thrown in jail when you threatened me in New York." Boden shouted. "This time, you're going down."
Jake noticed the old man tremble. He couldn't tell if it was from fear or rage. "Missed opportunity, Senator. But I'm not here to make threats." Jake smiled. "It's a shame your P.A. couldn't join us. Probably for the best, though. I doubt you would want her to hear what we have to say." He was deliberately taunting the old man. Kyli told him to increase the old man's heart rate so the toxin would enter his bloodstream faster. "I hope she's feeling better."
"That was your doing?" Boden sat in his chair and propped his cane against the fireplace behind him. The lines on his face looked noticeably deeper.
"We had help," Francesca said.
Jake stepped up to the desk and picked up Boden's pack of gum.
He pulled out the top stick of gum, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. "Now I know why you like this, it's very good. Kind of relaxing." Jake placed the pack on Boden's desk and slid it toward the old man.
Boden stared at him. Jake knew he was a smart man. You don't make it to senior ranking senator without a certain level of intelligence and grit.
Boden waved his hand at the door. "I want you two out of here now."
"Not yet. First I want to talk to you about a little girl named Kim Ly." Jake noticed a twitch in Boden's face. "You knew her, didn't you? Thirteen-year-old orphan girl in Vietnam? Surely you can remember her."
Boden snatched open his desk drawer and pulled out a .38 caliber revolver. He pointed it at Jake. "You're a fool if you think for one second you can blackmail me. I have powerful friends. You can't get away with this."
Jake opened his left hand. Bullets.
Boden dropped the gun. "What do you want? Money?"
Jake gave Francesca a slight nod. She pulled her gun and aimed it at Boden. He leaned back in his chair. Jake saw the fear in his eyes.
"Are you going to kill me?" Boden's voice cracked.
"Try to relax, Senator," Jake said. "I'm not going to touch you. All I want to do is talk to you about a video."
Boden's hand trembled as he removed a stick of gum from the pack and slowly unwrapped it. He put it in his mouth and started chewing.
Francesca pushed her gun closer and aimed it at his head. "Ready to talk now, old man."
Boden unwrapped a second piece and stuffed it in his mouth.
"So predictable." Jake picked up the pack and held it out to Francesca. "Care for some?"
She shook her head. "Trying to quit."
"Please," Boden pleaded, "tell her to put the gun away."
Jake nodded and Francesca holstered her firearm. Boden had been chewing his gum with nervous intensity when he stopped abruptly.
Jake recognized the symptoms by the fretful expression that came across Boden's face. Kyli's formula was working. Time to turn up the heat, really get that heart racing. "You see, Senator, we watched this video the other day. Pretty disturbing, if you ask me."
"Sick is more like it," Francesca interrupted.
"I saw a 76-year-old man force a thirteen-year-old girl to perform oral sex on him." Jake leaned over Boden's desk. "Made me want to track him down and kill him. Give him a good bashing, just like he did to her."
Boden's face started sweating. He rubbed his left arm.
"Now, there's this video out there and I'm not sure I can stop it from going viral on the Internet. And the thing is…you can see the man's face clear as day."
The old man clutched his chest, squeezing his shirt tighter on his body.
"What do you think I should do about it?" Jake saw the man shaking.
"Heart. Attack. Call. 9-1-1." Boden cried out. His shaky hand reached for a bottle on his desk. "I…I need…my…nitro pills."
Jake picked up the bottle. "These?"
Boden nodded. "Yes. Please. Give them here." The old man stretched out his trembling hand.
Francesca walked up and stood next to Jake while he opened the bottle and dumped the contents on the desk. Boden's hands scooped at them as a wave of nausea caused him to double over. He managed to pick up a few and put one in his mouth.
"By now, I can only imagine the pain coursing through your body." Jake said. "You see, Senator. I didn't lie. I told you I wasn't going to touch you." Jake looked at Francesca. "I guess this mission is over."
Francesca glared at the old man. "This one's for Kim Ly."
Jake watched the old man convulse.
Senator Richard Boden's eyes rolled back and he collapsed in his chair, still clutching his chest.