Zarulium Chronicles I - Destination Nazca

by Christopher A Forrest

Chapter 14: Mantis Religiosa – Yucatan, Mexico – Christmas Day

  Mantis had time before her assignment to savour the warmth of the midday on Cancun Island. She activated her wristband, which told her the air temperature was 31° C. She decided this would be a pleasant place to visit during the winter months, although she would probably avoid it at Christmas time. It was such a busy time of year everywhere. It was certainly not conducive to her being able to work efficiently.

  She pressed a tiny button on her specialized timepiece; raised her arm into the air; and then returned the arm to a position that allowed her to read the timepiece. It read '5 MPH' and this brought an approving smile to her face as she said, "Perfect!" From this height, the long distance to her mark pushed even an ace like Mantis to her skill threshold: a slow wind speed was critical to her success formula.

  Although Mantis knew she was probably farther away today than she had ever been from any previous target; nevertheless, this did not worry her because she brought a .338 Lapua Magnum sniper rifle with her. She was certain it was overkill to use such a powerful long-ranged weapon; however, she also knew that an excessive wind speed could cause any bullet to miss from this distance.

  She had considered other options for completing the job, but none was as efficient and safe as this one. She knew from a previous hit on a Columbian drug lord that their sort was notorious for personal security. They had more armed guards than politicians routinely did – she could not hope to assassinate a drug lord from a close distance.

  Even worse was the fact that their bodyguards were criminals used to firing their weapons indiscriminately. Mantis reasoned that after she killed her target today, his guards would open fire regardless of their not seeing a target to shoot at. They were undisciplined 'loose cannons'. This randomness was a concern because stray bullets had to hit something. She worried that particular something could be her one day.

  Mantis minimized that threat today by utilizing her Lapua: she was out of the range of most guns and far too high up for anyone to detect her presence. By the time anyone with a gun noticed the hit, Mantis would probably be out of sight.

  She always scouted the kill zone in advance to ascertain positioning, normal movement patterns, and staff numbers. In addition, she always double-checked her expectation just prior to the kill – this could be especially important on Christmas Day.

  To facilitate this process, she used her high-powered telescope to scout the tertiary and quaternary sectors of 'El Sadistic's' mobile empire to confirm the location of his peripheral staff. Satisfied that everything looked normal in the kill zone, Mantis proceeded to her next routine.

  She considered certain routines critical to work success, but knew that her next one was more of a personal superstition. She always examined the photo of her target one last time to refresh her memory, even though she knew by this point in the process, what the target looked like.

  She also liked to read the bio one last time. The bio usually revealed the target to be an unpleasant human, and rereading that tended to inspire Mantis.

  She tipped the contents of her manila envelope onto the rooftop carefully; examined the picture of Juan 'El Sadistic' Chavez; and then read in his bio that local authorities identified him as Mexico's third most notorious drug lord. She read that her target today was a sadist who enjoyed killing those who crossed him with lethal injections of the base materials used to make his drugs. This explained how he received his nickname, 'El Sadistic'.

  Mantis returned the documents to the envelope and then used her telescopic lens to view the sprawling patio and pool area below. She spied her target and then heard her preset warning beep on her wristband: it was time to assemble her rifle.

  First, she slipped on her khaki goat-kid gloves: they were her favourite pair and perfectly matched her designer capris. Then she applied some Murphy's Oil soap to the rifle butt. She loved its lemon fresh scent in the morning. It smelled like success. Next, she assembled the rifle with the precision of a robotic unit on a car manufacturing line. She wondered for a moment if she could assemble it with her eyes closed, but stopped because it broke from her routine.

  After she pieced together the rifle, Mantis glanced at her wristband for the actual time. It was 11:53. She had seven minutes to wait and he had that many to live. She thought about shooting him early, but decided to wait until the agreed upon exact time. She respected that in the absence of any problems, she should be precise regarding timing. She reminded herself that several years ago as a rookie assassin, she hit a target a day early and had a difficult time subsequently collecting her pay because her employer remained convinced for a whole week that another assassin had 'beaten her to it'!

  At 12 noon, when her wristband beeped a second time, she squeezed the trigger of the .338 Lapua Magnum sniper rifle. The trigger action reminded her of using the controller of her nephew's gaming system. She always let him win the shooting-type games they played: no point in arousing suspicion.

  As she felt the custom-made, ballistic tip bullet leave the chamber, she imagined she rather resembled a howitzer aimed at a duck. It would be very messy down below, but the hotel staff would have to clean up, not her.

  She heard a female scream, and was mildly curious as she disassembled her rifle with the same precision she had put it together. Apparently, somebody down there cared enough to cry for El Sadistic. Perhaps instead, the female was crying over a lost meal ticket. Whatever . . . get over it . . . it's a brand new day!

  As she put the last rifle piece back in its case, the process suddenly reminded her of her mother's Christmas tree: you take it out once in a while; assemble it; admire and use it; and then you return it neatly to its case! Mantis always lamented the next part of her routine because, unlike the Christmas tree that her mother kept until the next year, Mantis had to rid herself of the murder weapon.

  Even though her gloves protected her from leaving fingerprint evidence, nevertheless current ballistics technology could easily link the weapon to its possessor. She dropped the rifle case into a rooftop air conditioning vent; left the rooftop quickly; and then hailed a taxi to the airport. Whenever possible, Mantis immediately flew away from the kill zone.

  A few hours later in her Mexico City hotel room, as she enjoyed the liquorice flavour of a Pernod liqueur, Mantis climbed into her hot-tub-for-one and watched a televised local bullfight. She doubted it was live given today was Christmas. As she contemplated whether to root for the bull or the torero, Mantis thought about how glad she was that today's target holidayed in sunny Cancun. She found Mexico City's air polluted – it was terrible for her skin.

  After the bullfight ended, she switched channels and found a Clint Eastwood movie. She watched 'Unforgiven' from start to finish. She especially enjoyed when Clint's character said, "We all got it comin' to us kid."

  Suddenly her special cell phone rang, and she knew instantly who was calling.

  "Mantis Religiosa this is Panthera Tigris," said the familiar voice, with the Eastern European accent. "The media reports confirm your success and news of it reached my ears moments ago. Congratulations, Mantis. I have another client for you. The request is sadly unavoidable but required . . . at your convenience . . . Mantis Religiosa."

  She sensed her employer enjoyed this spy-like exchange. Even though the phone line was entirely secure, nevertheless he enjoyed dialogue that made him sound like a James Bond villain.

  Playing along, she asked, "Maximum allowable time until completion?"

  "Comfortably before March 2nd."

  "Location?"

  "Toronto."

  "In Canada?"

  "Problem?"

  "No. There's a first time for everything."

  "Indeed."

  "Offer?"

  "$200,000."

  "Expenses?"

  "Paid fully."

  "That's fairly high – political?"

  "No, but high-profile."

  "Special conditions?"

  "Accidental, if p
ossible, but your choice ultimately."

  "Agreed in principle – will negotiate final price after identification," explained Mantis, and then she ended the call. She climbed out of the hot tub; reached for her complimentary hotel robe; and then gracefully slipped into it. After drying off, she painted her nails a shade of blood red – no, it was Christmas red, she decided – and added small green triangles which perfectly resembled Christmas trees. Mantis had a passion for nail art.