impersonal, height, weight, age, eye and hair color.
“What’s the matter?” McCabe asked. She could hear the suspicion in his voice.
“Nothing.”
“Good,” he replied, but she could tell he didn’t believe her.
Functioning on autopilot, Elektra scanned the sheets of paper. “A kid?” she asked at last. “What’d the kid do?”
“Talked back in class, had the wrong father, how would I know?” McCabe’s voice was getting more and more impatient. “It’s a job, E. When did you start asking questions?”
“I’ll call you when it’s done,” she said coldly, and hung up on him.
For a long time, Elektra simply sat there in the dark, head down and gaze fixated on the floor. Finally she made herself stand and go to the closet, where she pulled out the battered leather case. She carried it back to the living room and opened it, then almost reverently pulled out the fitted leather sheaths containing her sais. Working methodically, first she polished each blade with Simichrom, working it in with her fingers until the oil absorbed any dirt and turned dark. When that was wiped clean, she took a chamois and a tube of Japanese sword oil and meticulously oiled every ex posed area until the two blades gleamed like new chrome in the low light of her living room.
That done, she sat back and waited for morning.
She was up and dressed in a red leather jacket and jeans before the sunrise, with her sais tucked comfortably into her sleeves. The morning sky was painted rose and gold by the coming sun, making everything look deceptively warm even though the air was still holding on to the previous night’s chilly temperature.
Striding up the beach, almost marching, Elektra tried to keep her mind blank, tried to focus on the job at hand and block out all the doubts and guilt that wanted to inch their way into her brain. She didn’t have time for things like that in her life, and certainly not in her line of work—assassins, professional ones, didn’t feel doubts, guilt, or emotions. They got their job, they did what they were hired to do, they collected their money, and, if they were wise, then they disappeared. So far, she’d been very good at all of that.
Her pace picked up almost without her knowing it, but there was no outrunning the thoughts in her head. So be it—she would have to live with them, let them yammer away.
She could still do her job.
There was a small spillway behind the Miller cabin and Elektra used the sounds of the flowing water in it to disguise her approach. She ended up on a slight rise right by the kitchen window, which was more than adequate for her needs. She had a slanting view down and into the kitchen, and she could see both Mark and Abby as they moved around the house, passing in and out of her view as they got ready to meet the day. All she needed was a good shot—actually, two good shots—and then this job would be over and she could get on about the business of her life… whatever that was.
Elektra waited, a sai in each hand. It was only a few moments before Mark ambled across her view, then stopped in front of the window and turned his back, putzing around with something on the table, unknowingly lining himself up perfectly in her vision. It should have been the perfect shot, really, there was nothing at all wrong with it… but maybe she could wait for something better, something with the girl closer to the window so she could get them both with more speed.
In another blink of the eye, Abby stepped into view, standing next to her father, a classic case of actually getting what you wish for. Elektra’s hands were frozen on her sais—she couldn’t help listening to the warm, familiar banter between father and daughter, a casual conversation that showed affection and was never meant for someone outside the family to hear.
Mark moved, and Elektra heard the sound of a can clanking against something metal. He looked over and she saw him grin at Abby. “How about some
“What’s the matter?” McCabe asked. She could hear the suspicion in his voice.
“Nothing.”
“Good,” he replied, but she could tell he didn’t believe her.
Functioning on autopilot, Elektra scanned the sheets of paper. “A kid?” she asked at last. “What’d the kid do?”
“Talked back in class, had the wrong father, how would I know?” McCabe’s voice was getting more and more impatient. “It’s a job, E. When did you start asking questions?”
“I’ll call you when it’s done,” she said coldly, and hung up on him.
For a long time, Elektra simply sat there in the dark, head down and gaze fixated on the floor. Finally she made herself stand and go to the closet, where she pulled out the battered leather case. She carried it back to the living room and opened it, then almost reverently pulled out the fitted leather sheaths containing her sais. Working methodically, first she polished each blade with Simichrom, working it in with her fingers until the oil absorbed any dirt and turned dark. When that was wiped clean, she took a chamois and a tube of Japanese sword oil and meticulously oiled every ex posed area until the two blades gleamed like new chrome in the low light of her living room.
That done, she sat back and waited for morning.
She was up and dressed in a red leather jacket and jeans before the sunrise, with her sais tucked comfortably into her sleeves. The morning sky was painted rose and gold by the coming sun, making everything look deceptively warm even though the air was still holding on to the previous night’s chilly temperature.
Striding up the beach, almost marching, Elektra tried to keep her mind blank, tried to focus on the job at hand and block out all the doubts and guilt that wanted to inch their way into her brain. She didn’t have time for things like that in her life, and certainly not in her line of work—assassins, professional ones, didn’t feel doubts, guilt, or emotions. They got their job, they did what they were hired to do, they collected their money, and, if they were wise, then they disappeared. So far, she’d been very good at all of that.
Her pace picked up almost without her knowing it, but there was no outrunning the thoughts in her head. So be it—she would have to live with them, let them yammer away.
She could still do her job.
There was a small spillway behind the Miller cabin and Elektra used the sounds of the flowing water in it to disguise her approach. She ended up on a slight rise right by the kitchen window, which was more than adequate for her needs. She had a slanting view down and into the kitchen, and she could see both Mark and Abby as they moved around the house, passing in and out of her view as they got ready to meet the day. All she needed was a good shot—actually, two good shots—and then this job would be over and she could get on about the business of her life… whatever that was.
Elektra waited, a sai in each hand. It was only a few moments before Mark ambled across her view, then stopped in front of the window and turned his back, putzing around with something on the table, unknowingly lining himself up perfectly in her vision. It should have been the perfect shot, really, there was nothing at all wrong with it… but maybe she could wait for something better, something with the girl closer to the window so she could get them both with more speed.
In another blink of the eye, Abby stepped into view, standing next to her father, a classic case of actually getting what you wish for. Elektra’s hands were frozen on her sais—she couldn’t help listening to the warm, familiar banter between father and daughter, a casual conversation that showed affection and was never meant for someone outside the family to hear.
Mark moved, and Elektra heard the sound of a can clanking against something metal. He looked over and she saw him grin at Abby. “How about some
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