The Hitman: Dirty Rotters

by Sean McKenzie

  Sally found a note.

  She woke me up in the morning around eight. She had cleaned off all traces of blood through the house and had went out to wipe down the El Camino. There it was. A small piece of white paper under the driver side wiper. Unusual as hell. She was frantic. She ran inside and woke me right away. She spoke quickly.

  She handed me the note. It read:

  GET ME MY MONEY BY NOON OR ELSE!

  “What is this?”

  “Someone was here last night in my driveway. That creeps me out, Michael. Is there anything that you haven’t told me?”

  “No. Nothing. I don’t know who would do this.”

  The handwriting was different than the shopping list. This was a person who spoke English, who was well practiced writing it. The letters were neat too. As if the person took their time writing it. No hurry. It must have been written someplace else, before the drive over here, I thought.

  “Give it to me,” Sally said.

  I handed her the note. “Maybe it was intended for you? Do you have-”

  “It was you they wanted. It has something to do with yesterday. I’m going to have someone check it for prints. They’re not going to get away with this.” Sally paced back and forth. “We’ll lift some prints and find out exactly who was here last night.”

  I thought about it for a few seconds. I had very little interaction with people yesterday. One of them was dead already. That left two others. And one of them had given me the money. I ruled out Andrik right away. It wasn’t his style to begin with. That left the hustler at the basketball court. None of it made sense though. For all we knew, it could easily have been just a prank.

  “Don’t think about it,” I told her.

  “You have very dangerous individuals believing that you are a hired hitman. This very well ties into that. Maybe the hitman owed someone money. They saw you with the Russians, followed you here. You have no idea what kind of trouble you could be in. Think about what sort of person it takes to be in association with Andrik and The Bear. Now think about how many other types of scum this hitman would be dealing with.” She looked fearful. But it was more than that. And it wasn’t for her. It was for me. “So please do not tell me to not think about it.”

  “You’re right, Sally. This is serious.” And I knew it was. I could blow through life without a care of what happened to me next, but I couldn’t do that to Sally. She was just a friend trying to help. This business was mine and mine alone. “I’ll take care of it, Sally.”

  She didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes were fixed on the note, staring through it to someplace else. “Prints shouldn’t take that long. I can have them by the end of my shift.” She turned to me. “In my bedroom there’s a gun cabinet. Just in case.”

  I nodded, meaning that I understood. She said she had to go to work. She took the paper with her as she walked out of the bedroom. I heard the front door slam shut, then lock. I sat upright for a few minutes feeling vulnerable. I heard Sally’s Hummer roar to life, then pass by the house traveling the driveway to the street, leaving me alone, puzzled and slightly paranoid.

  Someone had followed me yesterday. Someone was watching.

  It bothered me.

  Noon.

  I had about four hours before anything was going to happen. And even if I did know who it was, I still had no idea where I was going to meet with the other. And I had no idea what or else meant. Was there more to this than I knew? Sally was right about the ideas of the hitman’s lifestyle and his associates. Hardcore types. Criminals and killers, no doubt. Soulless Rotters preying on the helpless.

  Rotters who had just met their match.

  I stretched my wings. Black ones.

  I got out of bed. I cooked eggs and bacon and drank all the pulp free orange juice. I distracted myself, if only for seconds at a time. There was much on my mind. Angelo Garboni. Andrik. Ponytail. The note. The money. The other note. Sally Rhode. Little B. Pamela.

  Pamela.

  I sat at the table for a while after I was finished eating and just listened to the silence. The note was intended for me. For the hitman. Someone knew I was here. Knew my car. Maybe even knew that I just ate eggs and bacon.

  A quick shiver raced over me. Just the thought of someone hiding someplace nearby watching me, waiting out his time to end my life made me want to get away from the windows. Sally’s house had plenty of windows.

  I stood then. I was going to forget the entire morning right then and there. Panic wasn’t going to take root. The stupid note was not going to own me. It wasn’t going to insert any fear in me, or any helpless feelings. I would deal with the person when it was the right time.

  Let the dead bury the dead.

  I got dressed. I began thinking right away of my plan for The Bear.

  Before I went to bed last night I knew I was going after him. He was the man responsible for Pamela’s murder in the first place. Probably many, many others. The discovery of the shopping list sealed the deal. I wasn’t going to let it slip by. I wasn’t going to play by the rules. I wasn’t a cop. I was a hitman.

  A Dirty Rotter.

  And I wasn’t going to put Sally in a bad position. I was going to keep her out of it. Keep her safely behind. I left her a note on the table, set the envelope full of cash in a safe place, and walked out the front door with a loaded nine millimeter in my jacket pocket not knowing whether I was in someone’s crosshairs or not.

  I reached the El Camino SS alive. I started it up. Still alive. I threw it in reverse and backed down the drive to the road. I saw no one. If they were hiding, they were doing a great job of it. I drove back to the old neighborhood. It was in all likelihood the very last time I would be doing so. I swept past the park, nearly empty that early, and kept on past Little B’s old place without a glance to it. A few blocks later, I turned left, heading right into the Red Square.

  Russian territory.

  I had never dared to venture before.

  And it was nothing like what I had imagined. Nothing at all like the gruesome stories that flooded out like spook stories for children.

  The Red Square looked like it had been plucked out of a fairytale. The town went from poor to rich in just a block. It was amazing. Everything was clean. Houses were tall and wide and immaculate, though most were painted in wild colors like a rainbow fell and smothered the Square. But it was nice. It was friendly. There was no litter. There were no gang members in matching Adidas outfits squatting down playing dice or cards or anything. No vagrants sharing cheap vodka with crows. Cars looked new and expensive, all imports, all fast and flashy. Apartment buildings looked like upscale New York high rises. Elegant, five star restaurants on each block. The streets were made from old bricks, which gave everything an old world feel to it. Costly, I assumed. It was all money well spent. It was all very unusual.

  I remember Little B once told me that they take care of their own. I knew what she meant right away.

  I found the address Sally gave me and parked in front of the building. There were three buildings altogether. All of them were a forest green color having the universal recycling symbol on them. The one closest to the street was a one story, probably just the main office branch full of white-collar Russians. I could barely manage the image. It had a series of tinted windows around it and a single door leading in and out. Beyond it were two huge pole barns, towering above. This is where the labor was done, no doubt. I could see glimpses of giant bulldozers and dump trucks driving around, moving heaping piles of plastics. The entire premises behind the front office building was fenced off, ten foot high with razor wire dressing the top. Somewhere around back would be a gate for the garbage trucks to enter through, but other than that it was well sealed.

  I took a deep breath. I was going to barge in, find The Bear and drag him out at gun point, and make him confess to everything.

  Simple plan.

  I liked everything simple.

  Simple truth was though, I wasn’t smart enough for anything els
e.

  I stepped out of the El Camino. I kept my right hand fixed around the gun stuffed inside my jacket pocket and walked the sidewalk straight towards the front door. I kept a normal pace. I wanted to look simple to everyone watching from their offices. I kept my thoughts on Pamela, to ward off any nervousness that should have crept in, any common sense that should have sent me back the way I had come. A week ago this would have been unmanageable. Unthinkable. My mind was a different ball game now.

  I reached the door and pulled it open. I had planned on raising my gun at that point, storming in through a small set of office spaces, finding someone who would grant me access to where their boss was, and getting back out within a matter of seconds. No one would challenge me. No one would be expecting a gun barrel to the face. It was all going to go smoothly.

  Simple.

  I stepped into a very small room and saw a receptionist at her desk doing nothing. My right hand was inside the pocket holding the gun where it remained. I was baffled right then. She smiled in greeting and asked me who I was there to see, but I said nothing. I was stunned. She looked like a Barbie. One that a child had colored with a box of crayons and then stuck into a microwave for a few seconds. Her lips were overly injected. I pictured her plastic surgeon to be laughing hysterically while standing on a bicycle tire pump jacking it up and down while orderlies wrapped him in a strait jacket. She had straight platinum blond hair that fell down onto the two balloons under her shirt, and teeth so white it hurt to look at them. And skin so tight that she was only allowed one facial expression: too happy.

  Money well spent.

  They take care of their own.

  “Sir?” the Russian doll asked again.

  I snapped out of it in time to watch her check me out and judge me on the spot. For a split second she had a look of suspicion in her crystal blue eyes. She sensed that all was not right. After all that plastic surgery, I assumed her senses were finely tuned to things amiss.

  “I’m here to see the owner,” I said quickly.

  Her head cocked to the side like a peacock. She gave me a look like I had just asked to see a leprechaun—the one riding the unicorn. She held it together. She played her role.

  “Appointment time?”

  “No. I need to see him right now.” I changed the tone in my voice. “It can’t wait.”

  “Sir, what appointment time did you say?”

  I noticed the black cylinder object over her head on the ceiling. I was being watched. The wall behind her had a single door at the right. It had a small numerical pad on the wall beside the handle. All stainless steel. Another camera was mounted directly above it.

  “Sir what is the purpose of your visit?”

  So much for simple. I was getting anxious. I rarely made good decisions while being anxious. I was feeling the pressure. I was getting hot. Sweat began to race down my back. It was taking too long.

  “Get me the owner right now.”

  “Are you-”

  “Just do it!” I growled.

  “Sir, relax, let me call my manager and you can talk to her.” She stole a quick glance to my right pocket, putting one and one together. Her movements were a bit more conservative then. She didn’t want to get shot.

  I looked into the black cover above her. They were watching. She needed to act in a certain manner, I knew. She needed to stall me. Either for them to call for help, or for someone else to come and deal with me.

  “Andrik sent me,” I lied, if only to speed things up a bit, if only to gain some sort of trust. Andrik would have some pull here. His name would mean something.

  She recognized that name real quick. I guessed that it chilled her to the bone, as she fumbled picking up the phone. She was struggling to keep it together now. I guessed that she had a run in with Andrik before and it wasn’t so pleasant.

  “Just make it happen.”

  “Hold on one second.”

  She picked up the phone and pressed a single button. A second later and all she said was “Da,” and then hung up. Not exactly unsuspicious. I looked back up to the hidden camera.

  “One moment,” she said. Her attitude had changed considerably. She was afraid. Her hands were trembling. She kept looking at my jacket pocket.

  Andrik.

  I stared at the door to my right. Any second it was going to open, and when it did, the gun was coming out and I was going through the door. There was no turning back now. This was it.

  Pamela.

  My grip tightened around the handle. I breathed in nice and slow. Steady. Calm. Waiting. Watching. I wasn’t tired. I was alert and ready.

  The door behind me opened suddenly.

  I turned quickly. Panic must have washed the intense look right off my face. A tall, lean Russian woman was staring back at me. Hard. I could feel her gaze slice through my head.

  “Anna…” the doll gasped. She looked apologetic. Fearful.

  Anna cut her short by a single dismissive wave. A silencing motion. That’s enough. Say no more.

  “Come with me,” she demanded to me. Her breathing was quick. She must have rushed in to deal with me.

  She brushed past me, making no attempt at all to move in a polite manner. She was all business. She walked to the door and pressed a series of numbers on the lock pad, then she opened the door.

  I gave the Russian doll a look, then followed the other. She was taller than me, straight and narrow. She was in a business suit, black with red pin stripes. A good look. And after looking at the melted crayon behind the desk, she wasn’t hard on the eyes. Her black hair shimmered, as if it were silk threads.

  “This way,” she said again.

  She held the door open for me and I passed through it into a hallway full of closed doors and other corridors. Offices. Important people behind doors making big decisions. Smart, well-educated people running a business. I’d be in the kitchen washing dishes.

  “Andrik sent you?” she said as she walked. A bitter tone. A forced smile.

  I nodded.

  I kept her pace, her long legs made me walk with more of a stride than I was used to. She looked me up and down, decisions being made. Probably smart ones. She was most likely better educated than I was. It was in her dark eyes. Get past the suspicion, and there was a brain at work. She moved with poise and confidence. Great posture, too.

  “Almost there.”

  I kept quiet.

  Simple.

  We walked for a bit longer than I had anticipated. We turned several times into other hallways, until finally we headed for another stainless door. From ten yards away I could see the numerical pad. On this side of the door there was no camera though. I guessed there was on the other side.

  “You are a tall man.” Another forced smile. Her eyes were not so friendly.

  I kept quiet.

  Anna reached the door and pressed a series of numbers faster than I could follow, then yanked hard on the door. It opened free, out into a small cemented area between the two giant pole-barns. The stench was brutal. I held my breath for long moments at a time. The sounds of giant machines at hard work jammed into my ears. A man in a filthy uniform with a yellow hard hat was directing a city garbage truck as it backed further into the pole-barn, out of sight.

  The look in Anna’s eyes could have killed me.

  “This way,” she said. I followed.

  She led me to the building on the right, to a small side door. No touch lock system. She put her hand on the handle and looked me in the eyes. “Are you a cop?”

  “No.” I said incredibly. It caught me by surprise. I was beginning to become offended by the suggestion. I made a mental note to buy a new jacket and get a different hair style.

  She looked at me as if she wasn’t certain. Either way, she didn’t trust me, or like me. My hand held the gun pointed at her in my jacket pocket the whole time. I didn’t trust her either.

  Anna looked at my pocket, smirked, then stared into my eyes. The look said good luck.

  She ope
ned the door and walked in. I followed. We were in a small room full of maintenance tools. Dirty brooms and shovels hung on the wall. Trash barrels and folded up tables and chairs lined the walls, save for one. Maybe it was a break room for the men working in the garbage. Just on the other side of the wall I could hear the giant bulldozer hard at work. It was loud. Painfully. I could have shot all nine bullets and no one would have been the wiser.

  Then it dawned on me.

  “Right this way,” Anna said. I didn’t care for the tone. She knew something that I didn’t. Something I was surely going to hate.

  We were walking for another door when I felt something hard jam into my back. I knew right away what it was. I turned. A blond woman was pressing a hand gun into my back. She was walking close to me. Her look was uncertain.

  I turned back around. They had me.

  We reached the door and Anna opened it. All three of us entered. I wondered then how many of us would be exiting.

  The room was dark. The woman behind me hit a light switch. It was a small room. It smelled of must. The cement floor was damp. Anna stood in front of me, the other behind me. I didn’t feel the gun any longer, but I knew it was there, pointed at me.

  “Who are you?” Anna demanded. “Andrik should have known better!”

  “I just want-”

  “Zatknis!”

  Shut up is what she told me.

  “Take off your coat!”

  I did. I kept the gun in the pocket though. I set it down on the cement. I saw a drain in the floor at the center of the room. The room was very small. It wasn’t even finished. The light bulb hung from the ceiling by the electrical cord. There was no drywall. A few buckets here and there. A garden hose wound up in the corner.

  Then Anna had a sword. It was a long and sharp Katana, shining in the dim light. It looked like it could slice through a cinder block. I couldn’t think of where she had it. Maybe it was in the room and she pulled it out when I set my coat down. She motioned to my body with it.

  “The shirt too.”

  I gave the blond a look first, then off with the shirt too.

  Anna motioned to my new jeans. “Down. Shoes too.”

  Another look to the blond with the gun, then I obeyed. First my shoes, then my jeans. I stood between two angry women in nothing but my new black boxer-briefs and brand new white socks.

  “I’m not a cop,” I reassured.

  “Too bad.” Anna smiled. She set the Katana down and put her luxurious hair back in a ponytail. “I am going to ask you questions. You get one wrong, you get one cut.”

  I understood. The sword. The drain. The garden hose.

  “You’re making a mistake, Anna.”

  “Working for Andrik makes you have the mistake.”

  She picked up the sword again. She moved closer to me. The Katana would slice through me like a hot knife through warm butter. If I thought I was fast enough I would have dropped to the floor, pulled my gun out of my coat pocket and fired a round before being decapitated. But I wasn’t fast. Plan B was to talk my way out of it.

  “Put down the sword, Anna.”

  “Andrik sent you to kill me. He should have chosen better.” Anna was about two feet away, in striking position. She knew the sword well. “I am more capable than the pig thinks.”

  “I’m not here to kill you. Put the sword down.”

  Anna wasn’t the compromising type. I wasn’t going to be able to talk her out of it. I decided on a new plan. One that didn’t involve that sword turning me into spaghetti. It was going to get ugly real quick.

  I turned to the blond behind me. I gave her a dry smile. I had planned on attacking her right then. Kick the gun out of her hands and get it before that blade sliced me up. Plus I’d rather be shot than sliced and diced. Lesser of two evils, if you ask me. A bullet to the head and you don’t feel much. But a sword cutting skin through flesh and bone stings, especially if Anna is the type to take her time. A cut here, a cut there. I’ll take a bullet over that any day.

  I backed up slightly, shifting my weight, preparing myself. I had to be quick. One shot was all I would get. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Anna raise the sword and prepare to come at me.

  But the door burst open and another blond entered. Her face was flush with concern.

  “Anna, wait!”

  Anna pulled back, the sword inches from my exposed neck. She looked like a wild beast. I never would have made it out alive. My life would have poured out and been washed down the drain.

  All three of us turned to face the newcomer. The other women stood down. The new one came right to me. “I am sorry. I did not tell them yet.”

  She turned to the others and spoke quickly in Russian. I knew what she had said. And she was wrong. I wasn’t the hitman they had hired. She was basing it on a photo she was shown by Andrik of me inside the Corvette. But he had been wrong. Then her. Now the other two.

  Anna put away the Katana. She let her hair down. She looked at me differently. The other blond put the gun away. She had a worried look about her. I knew she had every reason to wear it. I wasn’t the Hitman.

  But I sure the hell was turning into him.

  The new woman turned to me. “I am Palo. Nice to finally meet you.” she said. Her accent was heavy. She was a pure-blooded Russian who probably had not lived in the States for very long. “Please, put the clothes on.”

  I did.

  I think they could see my heart pounding against my chest.

  Palo wore a black business jacket, short matching skirt, and high heels. Her blond hair was up in a bun, very professional like. Her skin was milky white. It looked odd against her dark clothing and the charcoal eye shadow. Her eyes were large and alert and ocean blue. Her pouty lips were shaded a vibrant pink just like her well-manicured fingernails. Her fingers were thin, delicate. No rings. Palo gave me the impression that she was a woman of wealth and taste. A woman whose taste was wealth.

  She was my age. Yet the look in her eyes said she was far older than her years. And those years were much, much harsher than mine. I stared at her.

  “Apologies, Mr. Hitman,” Anna began, “we know better than to trust Andrik. Especially this close to a pick-up date. You understand our concern. We trust no one, Mr. Hitman.” She walked past me, still holding a bit of suspicion in her dark eyes, and spoke in private to Palo before walking out.

  “Understood.” I said.

  Palo turned to me. Her eyes were not as penetrating as Anna’s. “I am so sorry. I did not plan for this to happen. These are my friends, Anna and Ivana. We are as one in this decision. I did not think I would see you so soon though. I worry that maybe Andrik plans for us to be taken too. But we are not on his list, correct?”

  “No. There were no names.”

  She paused, then smiled and said, “Let us go inside and talk.”

  Ivana, the silent blond, opened the door and we left together in a line with Palo in front and me in the middle. Back through the noise and stench. Past the brief open sky and back into the office building. Palo led the way, choosing a different route than what took us outside previously. We went into a room with a desk against the wall and a small round table in the center. Four chairs were circling it.

  Palo motioned for me to sit. I did. She sat beside me. Ivana sat directly across from me. The door opened and Anna walked in, filling in the empty seat. She looked somewhat relaxed.

  A hell of a lot more than I was.

  “Andrik told me what you do to his collector. Good move for you. Makes him less suspicious.” Palo said.

  I felt my stomach churn. I swallowed hard. I was going to let them fill me in on the details.

  Keep it simple.

  “Andrik is very dangerous man. He is devil, like The Bear. He makes the people obey him.” She looked at Anna for a second, then down to her own smooth legs. “There was another, before you. But The Bear defeated my killer. Now they are suspicious. But I don’t wait. I find you next. I find you before more girls are tak
en.”

  I nodded. I understood. We were allies. I could trust them. “Where is The Bear?”

  “He is out of town until tomorrow,” Anna said. “We had planned on waiting until Saturday when Vladimir arrives.”

  The three women nodded in unison. I followed.

  Palo turned to me and stared into my eyes for a long minute. She was reading me. She seemed to shrink then, as if she were a young girl, a child wishing to be held. Though she stiffened, her despair shifting into defiance, I could detect a trace of fear in her voice. “Second thoughts, Hitman?”

  I looked down and away from her. I had no idea what to say. I said nothing.

  Palo crossed her legs. “If you want out tell me now.”

  Palo was drop dead gorgeous. She had pouty lips and curves where they should be. I doubt she ever had a man tell her no. I wasn’t going to be the first. “I can help you, just tell me when.”

  “When they make the switch for the girls and the money.”

  Anna added, “You will only get once chance. And this time, Palo will not be able to save you.”

  She gave me a hard look. I nodded. I caught on.

  “Where?” I said.

  “Every year it changes,” Anna said.

  “Stay close to Andrik. He will arrange a meeting place.” Palo added.

  “Understood,” I could almost hear the sigh of relief.

  Palo slid me an envelope full of money. “You collect the rest when job is finished.”

  “Rest?”

  “Money from Russian dog Vladimir is yours as promised. Do not worry. You can trust me, Hitman. You are my only hope.”

  “Tell me about this Vladimir guy.”

  Palo said, “He is partner to Andrik, working for The Bear. Very dangerous man.”

  Anna added, “Vladimir is an ex-KGB soldier. He takes the women and cars from America and finds buyers in Moscow.”

  “Very bad man,” Palo finished.

  “Sounds like he needs to be taught a lesson in how to treat women.” I looked at each of them. Anna’s hands motioned.

  “At least with Vladimir you do not have to worry about weapons. He hates them. No guns. Nothing. He likes to kill with his hands. He’s very comfortable fighting like prisoner.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And he will have men with him. Maybe five to ten of his best soldiers.”

  “Anything else?” I said it sarcastically, but it went over their heads.

  “That is all, Hitman.” Palo sighed.

  I gave them each a comforting nod. They had the eyes of desperation.

  “You kill The Bear and Vladimir, Mr. Hitman.” Anna said, teary-eyed. “And make sure Andrik suffers.”

  They also had eyes of misery. I saw it in each of them. Anna held it so intensely that I looked away, over to Palo.

  “Is simple for man like you.” Palo stated confidently.

  Simple.

  Kill some bad guys, save some good women.

  Simple.

  But by the sound of it, it was going to be beyond simple.

  Each of them stared at me as if I was their only prayer. As if that I should fail, they knew how terrible things would become. But I wouldn’t fail them.

  I flexed my wings. They were white.

  Palo managed a faint smile. “Is fine, Hitman?”

  “Fine, Palo.” I lied.

  “Good.” Her smile died away. “Kill my father, then we are fine too.”

  Chapter 11