his cousin grimly. It was a good idea. It was just the kind of plan he'd asked for. It was also damned cold. He felt ghostly tugs at the remnants of a conscience he didn't know he still had, and couldn't help picturing his daughter, Mary Lynn, as one of the victims. The pang was fleeting; he did have a job to do.
"How are you going to prevent early discovery of the bodies? Or news reports of the disappearances?"
"It's not that hard. People generally don't fight the first day or two of a missing persons case when the police are insisting on waiting. Oh, they bitch, but they don't go all out calling the media and lawyers. If a seemingly kind cop or two is surreptitiously checking things out despite the rules, or appears to be, families think they've won something. They bitch, they panic, they're pissed—but no calls to the media or lawyers. In other words, over the time span we've got, we pick the right targets in the right order and we can keep a lid on the hits until January first. Then the various anonymous tips make sure everything breaks at once. Families don't want to give up hope until they identify the body. Right targets, right order, and we're golden," Bobby assured him.
"Take the first hit. It's a beloved niece and the twin brother. The girl's a coed—has a habit of taking off on road trips without telling anyone where she's going. If they can't reach her, they'll take awhile before they get too worried. The twin brother will have a very convincing car accident—convincing until the evidence gets dropped in the cops' lap, along with the location of the niece's body. It's first because it has a long lag time, but not best because it's a more peripheral relative. As we get down to the wire, we can do targets that are a lot more significant because we don't have to hold suspicion down for as long." The killer shrugged. "It's all in the timing."
Johnny was sometimes a little nauseated at the way his cousin's mind worked. Only a little, though. It was business, and this kind of thing was why he kept Bobby on the payroll in the first place, "Okay. How about an extra month's salary for every hit?"
His cousin nodded. "Per body, and half of it in sales-tax-free goods. Plus, of course, you pay all the expenses, including the cost of hiring extra help."
"Done," Johnny agreed. It was fairly cheap for murder for hire, but partly because Bobby could count on a steady salary and kick-ass benefits. The tax-free goods was a smart idea, because with the high prices, and some kinds of consumer goods rare, hookers would usually take all or part of a fee in barter. High-end whores would do almost anything for real French perfume or cashmere. With Bobby's tastes, that was a necessity.
"Why don't you and the kid come out for dinner next weekend, after we've got off the first round of this thing? Help me celebrate my bonus a little," Bobby said.
"Great. I'd like that." A free meal was a free meal, and Mary Lynn could use the cheer of a meal out. "Hey, Bob, if you bring a date, could she be a, well, a discreet one?" He didn't want to piss off his benefactor, but he didn't really want his baby girl watching a whore climb all over Uncle Bobby all evening.
His cousin's lips tightened a little for a long second, but finally he shrugged. "Sure, Johnny. Whatever. Guess it would be a bit much for the kid. I guess I can have one meal without the entertainment." He actually grinned, as if the idea amused him.
This grin actually reached his eyes and Johnny suppressed a shudder. That little glint always reminded him of the Tir for some reason.
"Oh, and Bobby?" Johnny decided to keep the other man happy; offer something in exchange for the request about the whore. "Don't let it fuck up your holiday, okay. You're already off through the 27th, right? If you start Monday, can you get it all done by New Year's?"
"Sure, whatever," Mitchell shrugged. "I could have fun with a little time off."
Saturday, December 26, 2054
"I told you it's
"How are you going to prevent early discovery of the bodies? Or news reports of the disappearances?"
"It's not that hard. People generally don't fight the first day or two of a missing persons case when the police are insisting on waiting. Oh, they bitch, but they don't go all out calling the media and lawyers. If a seemingly kind cop or two is surreptitiously checking things out despite the rules, or appears to be, families think they've won something. They bitch, they panic, they're pissed—but no calls to the media or lawyers. In other words, over the time span we've got, we pick the right targets in the right order and we can keep a lid on the hits until January first. Then the various anonymous tips make sure everything breaks at once. Families don't want to give up hope until they identify the body. Right targets, right order, and we're golden," Bobby assured him.
"Take the first hit. It's a beloved niece and the twin brother. The girl's a coed—has a habit of taking off on road trips without telling anyone where she's going. If they can't reach her, they'll take awhile before they get too worried. The twin brother will have a very convincing car accident—convincing until the evidence gets dropped in the cops' lap, along with the location of the niece's body. It's first because it has a long lag time, but not best because it's a more peripheral relative. As we get down to the wire, we can do targets that are a lot more significant because we don't have to hold suspicion down for as long." The killer shrugged. "It's all in the timing."
Johnny was sometimes a little nauseated at the way his cousin's mind worked. Only a little, though. It was business, and this kind of thing was why he kept Bobby on the payroll in the first place, "Okay. How about an extra month's salary for every hit?"
His cousin nodded. "Per body, and half of it in sales-tax-free goods. Plus, of course, you pay all the expenses, including the cost of hiring extra help."
"Done," Johnny agreed. It was fairly cheap for murder for hire, but partly because Bobby could count on a steady salary and kick-ass benefits. The tax-free goods was a smart idea, because with the high prices, and some kinds of consumer goods rare, hookers would usually take all or part of a fee in barter. High-end whores would do almost anything for real French perfume or cashmere. With Bobby's tastes, that was a necessity.
"Why don't you and the kid come out for dinner next weekend, after we've got off the first round of this thing? Help me celebrate my bonus a little," Bobby said.
"Great. I'd like that." A free meal was a free meal, and Mary Lynn could use the cheer of a meal out. "Hey, Bob, if you bring a date, could she be a, well, a discreet one?" He didn't want to piss off his benefactor, but he didn't really want his baby girl watching a whore climb all over Uncle Bobby all evening.
His cousin's lips tightened a little for a long second, but finally he shrugged. "Sure, Johnny. Whatever. Guess it would be a bit much for the kid. I guess I can have one meal without the entertainment." He actually grinned, as if the idea amused him.
This grin actually reached his eyes and Johnny suppressed a shudder. That little glint always reminded him of the Tir for some reason.
"Oh, and Bobby?" Johnny decided to keep the other man happy; offer something in exchange for the request about the whore. "Don't let it fuck up your holiday, okay. You're already off through the 27th, right? If you start Monday, can you get it all done by New Year's?"
"Sure, whatever," Mitchell shrugged. "I could have fun with a little time off."
Saturday, December 26, 2054
"I told you it's
Similar Books
