Codename: Blackheart

A Normal Day

God dammit! Severing major arteries is messy business, and I’m usually able to keep myself out of the line of fire, but not today it seems. My black hair is matted with blood, my maroon bra looks black from the blood soaking into it, and my matching maroon satin and lace panties are soaked and not in the good way. The gorgeous tattoos that cover the ivory skin of my arms and legs are now veiled in blood. I look horrific. But sometimes this comes with the job.

Killing people can get messy sometimes, and not everything goes to plan. Like in this case. Everything was running smoothly, going exactly how I wanted, but then one little action forced me to deviate from my plan slightly and now here I am, straddling a dead man while looking like a living breathing Jackson Pollock painting. But let me go back a bit and explain how I got here.

Thirty-nine-year-old Miroslav Đorđević was a Serbian arms dealer who, as it turns out, had been skimming off the top and his partner wasn’t happy about it. Sometimes when people in our world want someone dead but don’t want it coming back to them, they reach out to me, and I take care of it for them. For a fee, of course. After learning his routines, habits, and background for the past month – as I do with every new contract – I put my plan into action.

I learned Miroslav was going to be at Square Nine Hotel having a dinner meeting with Земунски клан (The Zemun Clan), one of the Belgrade clans of the Serbian mafia. I waited in the lobby bar in a full-length, black velvet gown that had one full sleeve down my right arm and a thigh slit that came right up to my pelvis. Only accessories I paired with the dress were my gold 5” ankle strap stilettos and my matching gold clutch. I kept the makeup light with mascara, a cat eye and blood-red lipstick and my hair pinned to the right. The tattoos on my left leg and left arm were on display to tantalise those around me. Safe to say, my 5’6” self looked good. I don’t have much to flaunt chest-wise as I’m a B cup, but my ass on the other hand is sinfully curvaceous and this dress showcased it to the fullest.

I waited patiently while discreetly monitoring the meeting going on not too far from me. My mother tongue is Romanian, but I’m fluent in several other languages including Serbian, so listening in on their conversation was no issue. I stole flirtatious glances with Miroslav during his meeting, and he responded to each glance with a wink, or a smirk and a lust-filled gaze, often zoning out of the conversation, distracted by the deadly woman flirting with him from across the bar. This wasn’t even a challenge, but I won’t say it wasn’t fun.

Once he finished his meeting he came over and struck up a conversation which resulted in him inviting me up to his room as intended. The door was barely shut before he was pulling me into a heated make-out session that I will be the first to admit was hot as hell. He made quick work of his clothes and at his command, I peeled off my dress while he lay on the king-size bed of his Junior Deluxe Suite in all his naked glory, and the man was indeed glorious.

Light brown spikey hair, teal eyes and toned muscles with olive skin covered in hair. Not in a gross way though. The hair wasn’t wild, it was tame and accented the curves and dips of the muscles on his body and boy am I glad we didn’t get to the s*x because I think his d**k might have killed me. Not much to brag about in terms of girth, but it was long, roughly eight maybe nine inches which is just too much if you ask me and from what I could tell about this guy, he’d have used every inch mercilessly.

Once out of my clothes, I was on top of him resuming our foreplay. I’ll hand it to him, the man could kiss, and his hands were skilled, but while he was busy leaving wet kisses on my neck and whispering erotic things in my ear, I carefully pulled Crimson out from her hiding place under the mattress, where I had hidden her earlier when I snuck into his room.

I was just about to go for his neck when he noticed what I was doing and acted fast. He grabbed my arm to keep my blade away and the way we were positioned didn’t give me a clear angle of his neck. So while he was busy trying to disarm my right hand, I switched the blade to my left and pierced Crimson into the femoral artery of his right thigh. He screamed in pain and shock and once I withdrew my blade, blood was spurting everywhere. May have had something to do with the fact so much blood was pumping down to that region due to his aroused state, but who cares? We struggled for a few minutes with him desperately trying to get me off of him while throwing Serbian curses my way, but just as fast as he began fighting, he became lifeless underneath me.

And that brings us to my current state. The bed is now soaked in blood, and there’s even blood on the wall above the bed. I climb off the bed, look myself over and shake my head. Definitely not what I planned, but the job is done at least. I slip Crimson into the waistband of my panties and collect my dress and purse. I walk over to the door and listen for anyone in the hallway. When I’m satisfied the coast it clear I use my dress to open the door to ensure I don’t touch it with my bloody hands. I quickly look both ways down the hall and make a dash to the room next to his, which I had earlier reserved for myself.

Once inside I grab a garbage bag from my suitcase and strip off my bra and panties and toss my clothes inside the garbage bag. I then pad my way to the bathroom and get into the shower. I take my time to scrub the blood off my body and wash it out of my hair. Another rule of this business: don’t wash up in the same place you kill someone.

After scrubbing and washing for a good thirty minutes, I get out and dry off using a towel I brought with me. I never use the hotel’s items. The fewer traces of me the better. I pull clean clothes out of my suitcase and get dressed in a royal blue button-down satin blouse and a black pencil skirt, tucking the blouse into my skirt. I slip on a pair of black pumps and tie my hair into a bun on top of my head. I look myself over in the mirror and see I’ve successfully washed all the makeup off as well, good. I put all my belongings neatly into my suitcase, along with everything bloodstained, including Crimson, who is tucked safely into a side compartment – I’ll give her a thorough clean when I’m on the jet. With everything ready I make my exit and check out of the hotel.

I do feel a little bad for the maid who’s in for a nasty surprise. I wonder how many people around the world require therapy because of me. I do tend to leave bodies scattered about, usually for two reasons. First reason is, it may relate to a scenario I have created such as the one with Martin Allard last month. The second reason is that the body being found – regardless of by who – proves I completed the job. Should never give someone a reason to suspect you double-crossed them and their target is still alive. It never ends well.

Once I’ve checked out I get in a cab and am taken to a private airfield where my jet is patiently waiting. It’s a Gulfstream G550 and she is a beauty. I smile as I see Marcel stepping down from the jet. Marcel is the steward on my jet and has been for the past five years, but he’s practically family. In fact, he often spends holidays with my family.

Marcel is forty-nine with short, limp dark brown hair fading grey at the edges. He has a salt and pepper trimmed beard and soft hazel eyes. Outside of the frown lines on his forehead he only has some slight creasing around the corners of his eyes, but no other wrinkles to be seen. He always dresses sharply and is currently in black slacks, black Armani dress shoes, a black pinstripe shirt and a black tie with a gold diamond pattern in the design. He’s also wearing his usual gold wolf cufflinks. He loves anything to do with wolves, he even owns one as a pet which he named Blade, who is absolutely gorgeous!

I step out of the cab as Marcel walks over smiling at me. “Did everything go well, sweet pea?” He asks me in Romanian. I have missed conversing with people in my mother tongue and am glad to be doing so again.

“A minor hiccup, but I handled it fine. As usual,” I tell him with a cheeky smile. He smiles in turn and gives me a warm hug. I return his hug and breathe in his familiar cologne. He uses just the right amount, so he always smells comforting instead of headache-inducing.

“Get settled on board while I grab your bag,” he instructs while rubbing my arms. I nod and climb up the stairs onto the jet while he grabs my suitcase.

I really love my jet. Crime really does pay well. The interior of the jet has black carpeting with golden zig-zags, white seats, and black walls. It seats thirteen people and sleeps eight. There’s a kitchen bar and sink when you enter with black cabinets and a gun metal marble tabletop with a gold sink and faucet. The jet has plenty of seating space from couches to single chairs, tables, and a double bed. Past the seating and bedding, there is an exquisite bathroom consisting of a mirror, sink, cabinets, toilet, and shower with the same design as the kitchen area. The cabin itself is about fifty feet by seven feet with a height of about six feet. All seats feature a personal audio/visual display and cabin settings can be controlled through a smartphone app. The app can control the temperature, video, audio, and window shades. Have I mentioned I really love my jet?

I walk down and take a seat on the couch to the right and kick my heels off and put my feet up. I won’t have too much time to relax as we’re going straight from here to Germany. While I was doing background regarding Miroslav, I was also doing background on another contract I received. Actually, two contracts, which I’m on my way to handle right now.

Marcel enters the cabin with my suitcase and places it on the bed. “Anything that needs tending to?” He inquires.

“Please see to it that the items inside are destroyed, not the purse though, I liked the purse. And please hand me Crimson, she needs a deep clean.”

He nods, “Consider it done. I’ll go grab your cleaning kit. How about something to eat? A sandwich? You need to keep your strength up if you’re going to be this busy,” he says with avuncular concern. I’m grateful for how much he looks after me, it’s true I sometimes get so caught up in what I’m doing I forget the simple things like eating and drinking.

“Sandwiches would be great, uncle,” I say with an appreciative smile. He smiles and gets to work.

As soon as we take off I get up and walk over to the cabinet opposite the bed, open the drawer and pull out three burner phones, a laptop and a dossier, then sit down in the single seat behind the bed and place the items on the small table. As I’m opening my laptop I pick up the first burner phone and speed dial 1. While I’m waiting for it to be picked up, Marcel places a bottle of mineral water and a plate of delicious roast beef sandwiches down and gives me a soft kiss on the top of my head. My mouth is watering and I’m dying to dig in.

“Cleaning kit is behind you,” he informs me in a whisper before sitting down in the single seat closest to the kitchen and putting something on the screen for himself to enjoy. I smile and nod at him in confirmation when the line finally connects, and I begin conversing with the man on the other line in Serbian.

“It’s done. Be sure to destroy the burner I have given you. I’ll be expecting the other half of my payment transferred into my account promptly,” I say impassively as I open the secure banking app on my screen.

“How can I be sure you did it?” Asks the voice in an irritated tone causing my jaw to tick. Zivko Krasiński is a prick and should be careful with how he speaks to me. My contract is complete, which means I can happily turn around and kill him just for kicks and no one would give a crap. The man drove me insane during our initial meeting when he hired me to kill Miroslav to the point I can understand why his partner was ripping him off. But these jobs are not personal to me. You hire me to do a job and I do it. So the fact this guy is questioning me is pissing me off.

“If you’re so unsure of my ability to do the job, why did you hire me in the first place?” I ask coldly with a threatening edge to my tone. This fucker needs a reminder of who he’s speaking to. I hear an audible gulp on the other end of the line. Good.

“No disrespect Miss Heart, I just want to be sure he’s dead,” he placates nervously.

“Then call the Square Nine Hotel and ask if they’ve found a dead body. That should clear things up for you. Now I’ve done my part, you do yours. Or would you like to find out what I do to people who renege on a contract?” I question menacingly. The line is quiet for a few moments, but I can hear the sound of fingers flying over a keyboard. I hear a soft chuckle coming from Marcel indicating he’s listening to my call.

“There. I’ve transferred payment to your account as per your instructions,” he says, sighing in relief. I watch my computer screen and sure enough, a moment later the payment shows up. Man just saved his own ass.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I tell him and hang up. I toss the phone behind me, knowing I’ll be destroying it soon and take a few bites of my delicious sandwich. Marcel makes the best sandwiches on the planet. I’m so grateful to have someone as loyal as him. Marcel and my father go way back so I’ve grown up with him. He retired from this life five years ago at the insistence of his wife Vivienne, but it was hard for him to detach from his old life completely. So he offered to be a steward on my jet and kind of act like an assistant who travels with me for business. He doesn’t always join, which is fine with me, but the company is appreciated sometimes and he’s very helpful.

As I’m eating I open up the dossier and go over the information I’ve assembled, and a stupid Cheshire cat-size grin appears on my face. This is going to be fun. Very rarely do I get a contract that takes me by surprise, but safe to say these two contracts I’m about to take care of are incredibly entertaining.

“What are you grinning about?” Marcel asks me in an amused tone.

I look back at him still smiling, “Just an interesting turn of events on this next one,” I explain with equal amusement in my voice. When it comes to work, I’m cold and methodical. Emotions need to be left at the door. But around those I trust; people who are family, with them I can just be myself.

Marcel smiles shaking his head, “You’re going to keep me in suspense I see. I hope you at least plan to fill me in afterwards,” he scolds, with a playful lift to his voice.

“You’ll be the first I tell, I promise,” I say sincerely. He gives me a stern nod making me chuckle. Taking both remaining burner phones, I send identical text messages with a time and address of where to meet.

After a relaxing journey, the pilot announces we’ll be landing soon, so I get up and open the right drawer of the cabinet opposite the bed. I pull out the sleek black case and open it using fingerprint ID. Nestled safely inside is my old reliable Wilson Combat EDC X9. I love this gun. My father still maintains his gun of choice is far better, but whatever. This is the gun for me. 9mm calibre, 7.6” length with a 4” barrel and a beautifully ornate G10 starburst grip and beavertail that houses the grip safety. Weighing at 2.38lb with a 15+1 capacity, it’s definitely my gun of choice.

I take out my beauty and start loading it. Once ready to go. I strap my gun holster to my thigh and strap in my gun. I grab Crimson who is now clean as a whistle and strap her on the other side of the holster, then adjust my skirt. I place the burner phones in my black handbag, and I am ready for action.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Marcel asks with a concerned frown.

“Yes. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask curiously as I look myself over.

“Nothing, it’s just so pretty and you’re probably going to ruin it with blood stains,” he says disappointedly making me shake my head and laugh.

“They’re just clothes, Marcel, I can buy new ones,” I say with amusement. Another reason why I love this man. I’m off to go kill people and he’s worried about stains on my clothes. How priceless is that?

It’s 10 pm when we land, and as soon as I’m off the jet I order myself a cab and have it take me to a dilapidated warehouse, in Cologne. I enter the filthy wide-open space and the first smell that hits my nose is wet earth. I already scouted this place a week ago. The windows are twenty-three feet off the ground and the only high access point was the fire escape which just so happened to have a terrible collapse a week ago. Whoopsie. All other exits of the building I welded shut while I was here, so the only way in or out is through the front door. If these men show up alone as instructed then all my precautions will have been unnecessary, which I don’t mind. I’d much rather be prepared than caught by surprise. That’s how I got the scar on my left calf.

While waiting, I remove my gun from its holster and tuck it into the back of my skirt and take the safety off. I wait patiently facing the door when fifteen minutes later I hear a car pull up outside and see its headlights shining through the high windows of this dark and dank building. I listen to the sound of a car door closing and then the sound of another car pulling up. The silence is filled with anticipation as another car door closes, and I hear voices filter in from outside as they converse in German, which I happen to understand just fine.

“What the f**k are you doing here?” Says a man’s deep voice in confusion.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” says the voice of another man who sounds like he smokes two packs a day. I smirk to myself and then quickly compose my face into its usual icy mask. Show time.

Both men walk in looking at each other in suspicion. They glance around the open space until their eyes land on me and shock and confusion flitter across their faces. Elmar and Jannik Schröder: smugglers who specialise in drugs and electronics. Elmar is forty-two with dark brown skin, dark brown eyes and black hair that is long at the top of his head coming down to his eyes and then the rest of his head is shaved. He’s 6’3” and scrawny as hell, but he hides his lack of physique in loose-fitted navy blue jeans, golden brown Brogues, a tan-brown suede button-down t-shirt and a dark brown bomber jacket. He dresses pretty casual for a smuggler.

Jannik, on the other hand, is forty-four with greasy dark blonde hair that reaches below his ears. Does he ever wash his hair? It sure doesn’t look like it. He has dark blue eyes, a thick blonde moustache, is 6’1” and he likes to dress semi-casual. He’s wearing a deep plumb pinstripe long-sleeve button down, light blue skinny jeans and black sneakers. He has the first couple buttons undone to show off his silver chain necklace, which isn’t at all impressive.

“Gentleman. Glad you could make it,” I greet them impassively in German.

“What the f**k is this? The whole point of me hiring you was so I wouldn’t have to be involved,” says Jannik in irritation causing Elmar to look at him wide-eyed.

“I’ll admit having you both reach out to me for contracts wasn’t shocking. Having you both reach out for contracts on each other, however… well, now that was an amusing surprise,” I inform them with no hint of amusement in my voice. But believe me, I’m laughing on the inside. Marcel is going to love this. Elmar and Jannik turn to each other in absolute shock and fury and immediately reach for their guns, but I’m a step ahead. I pull out my gun from behind me and point it at them. “Hands where I can see them, or you both get a bullet in the head,” I threaten them calmly. They each hesitate and hold up their hands in surrender.

“You put a hit on me? You f*****g filthy traitor,” spits Jannik.

“Me?! You put a hit on me too you f*****g low life!” Yells Elmar.

“You were s**t at this business; you would have ruined us. I had to do it. But why the f**k did you put a hit out on me?” Questions Jannik. Really? He’s arguing whose hit is more valid?

“You screwed my fiancée!” Shouts Elmar. I’m so glad I have perfected my cold exterior because I so badly want to erupt into a fit of laughter. These two are pathetic.

“I did you a favour. She wasn’t any good for you, and she was lousy in bed,” Jannik excuses.

“Favour? My own cousin screwing the woman I love is not doing me a favour you jackass!” Elmar says fuming.

“As entertaining as this is, gentleman, I do have a flight to catch. So if you would both be kind enough to hand over your guns I would appreciate that,” I instruct them apathetically. They hesitate, so I glare at each of them which prompts them to remove the guns from their waistbands and put them on the ground. “Good. Now take five steps back.” Not taking their eyes off each other they both take five steps backwards. I walk over and tuck my gun back into my skirt and pick up their guns. Taking one gun in each hand, I stand between them and with quick speed raise the guns and shoot each of them in their left lung. They both fall back, bleeding from their respective wounds as they struggle to breathe as blood slowly fills their lungs. I step back so I have a clear view of them both. “Now you understand why I made sure you both paid me in advance. Consider both contracts completed.”

“Fu… cking b… itch,” Jannik stutters as he spits up blood. I watch them struggle and even try to crawl away with little success, then wait patiently as the light leaves their eyes, death finally taking them as they drown in their own blood. I was hardly going to pick one contract over the other, it made more sense to just accept both. Plus it will make for one hell of a story at the dinner table.

Grabbing a cloth from my handbag I clean my prints off Elmar’s gun and walk over and place the gun in his hand firmly placing his prints on his gun. I then repeat the process with Jannik’s gun. I check both their pockets and remove the burner phones I gave them and place them in my handbag. I secure my gun back into its thigh holster with the safety on and call for a cab to take me back to my jet. While I stand outside the warehouse I pat myself on the back for another job well done. Now I can finally go home and see my family.