by Michael Todd
She leaned down and picked up the paper to retrieve the envelope from beneath it. Once she’d tucked her large beach bag beside the chair, she sat and leaned back in before she withdrew the information. For a short moment, she stared at the picture of a Madam Alexandria Dubois. The woman had been hunted, investigated, set free, and left alone, even after the charges she faced. Somehow, this woman knew exactly what she was doing. She knew how to get away with a crime even when she’d committed it with her own hands. They called her the Waxer. Every victim she killed, she would wax their head bald and have one of her thugs carve a smiley face into the scalp. The behavior was bizarre, but that usually came with the territory when dealing with a psychopath like her.
Billie slipped the papers back in the envelope and shoved them into her bag. She had two hours before she could be assured of darkness and there was no better place to be than right there. She exhaled a deep, revitalizing breath and dug her toes into the sand. A waitress from the resort came up with a smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”
She pursed her lips and glanced at her watch before she shrugged her shoulders and nodded. “That would be great. I will have a Mai Tai please.”
The girl smiled. “Of course, right away. Is there a room you would like me to credit?”
Billie shook her head and dug in her pocket for a fifty. “Keep the change as well.”
The girl thanked her and hurried off to the outside bar. Hickok put her arms behind her head and grinned. The pinks and blues of the approaching sunset were more beautiful than even the vibrant colors of the Zoo. Then again, the Hawaiian sunset also didn’t try to eat you while you slept.
The girl was back within five minutes and Billie was in heaven as she watched the sun settle on the horizon and sink slowly into the water. She nursed her drink and had barely sipped the last of it from her coconut when the waitress appeared. “There is a cab waiting for you out front. They pointed at you and said they were here to take you to your destination.”
A car with blacked-out windows was parked close to the bar. She nodded, grabbed her bag, and strolled up the beach. The driver got out and opened the door. She ducked in and waited until he slid behind the wheel. “Your client has arranged the transportation.”
Billie smiled. “Thanks.”
The man rolled up the tinted glass between the front and the back of the car. She raised her eyebrows and glanced regretfully at the water as the last sliver of the sun dipped into the sea. “Well, that was a nice two-hour vacation. Back to work.”
She pulled her suit from her bag and laid it out with her helmet beside it before she dragged her sundress over her head and tossed it in the bag. One last job and then back to the Zoo, which for all intents and purposes, had become home to her. She slipped her suit on and secured her helmet. Dressed and ready, she leaned back and enjoyed the ride as the car drove inland and toward the destination. Again, she had no idea who the client was but if she were looking to be in the business long term, she would definitely be interested in them. But that wasn’t her life anymore. She had goop to collect and serums to make.
It wouldn’t be glamorous, but when had her life ever been glamorous? The thought ended abruptly when the car came to a stop and she exited and nodded at the driver. She paused and studied the target’s location, a huge mansion on the hill. Apparently, the worst criminals in the world were the ones who got glamorous.
Billie cracked her neck and dropped her helmet onto the bloody carpet. She drew a deep breath and walked toward a large sliding door. The sky was lit up by the full moon and the stars sparkled almost joyously overhead. Out on the patio near the pool, candles lined the walkway and the flames flickered back and forth. Their shadows danced along the side of the house. In any other situation, the scene would have been incredibly romantic. Unfortunately, there was no hot man waiting for her that day.
Instead, all around her on the floor lay the dead bodies of the guards that had roamed the grounds. They had pursued her into the house when her camo failed but she had been nimbler and much quicker than their large muscles could move.
Billie stood and breathed heavily as she removed her empty mag and shoved a new one in. It was the fourth one she had been through, and a sharp, stinging pain tormented her shoulder. She looked at the hole in her suit and the flesh wound where a bullet had grazed her. Irritated, she shook her head and turned her attention to the patio once more. To the right of the pool was a large above-ground hot tub. Inside it was a woman with long blonde hair. She leaned back with cucumbers on her eyes, earbuds in her ears, and a glass of champagne in her hand.
Hickok studied her with her head slightly tilted in curiosity. “You look so comfortable for someone about to fucking die. Maybe I should join you. I deserve to be comfortable, right?”
She nodded and answered. “Yes, I deserve a little soak in the hot tub after a really rough night’s work.”
Her mind made up, she set her gun down and unzipped the side of her suit. Carefully, she peeled it all the way down to her feet. For balance, she held onto the head of one of the dead guards who had fallen across the counter. She pulled the suit off fully and leaned over to retrieve her gun. “I’ve never killed anyone in the nude before. This should be interesting.”
She turned sideways and squeezed through the crack in the door. Out on the patio, she tiptoed across and climbed the steps before she eased herself carefully into the water. She sat with the jet at her back, which splashed water at the woman. The Waxer sat up with a gasp and the cucumbers fell with a soft plop. “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?”
Billie raised her pistol and aimed at the woman’s chest. “Don’t worry about calling your guards, they’re all dead. And your security system has been disabled with your apparent permission.”
The woman gritted her teeth and looked at the gun. “What do you want? Money? Jewelry?”
“Why does everyone think I want money? It’s so rude.”
The Waxer glanced at the weapon once more. “Then what do you want?”
Hickok smiled. “Three French girls on the Riviera go missing. Two years later, their bodies are found in their mothers’ backyards, strung up in the trees. Each girl had their head waxed and smiley faces carved into the scalp. Six months later, three Swedish teenagers go missing. Two years later, their bodies are found in their grandmother’s backyard, same MO. When autopsies were performed on these and many other bodies, it was found that they were sexually abused, physically beaten, and tattooed with a number. What was the number for?”
The woman scoffed. “That’s what you want? Because we have so many girls in so many countries. The numbers keep them straight. Why else? Their lives are worth nothing, and when I’m done with you, neither will yours.”
Billie shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Not today, Satan. Not today.”
She fired and continued to riddle the Waxer with bullets until her gun clicked empty. Finally, she smirked and climbed out of the tub and turned the temperature all the way up. She pushed the woman's head under the water and closed the tub tightly before she walked away, whistling cheerfully.
Billie sat in the back of the car and held her final envelope of money. The window between them rolled down and the driver stared at her for a moment. “My client said to tell you, if you ever look for more work, the number written on the paper in that envelope will be the way to contact them.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
As her phone began to buzz, the driver closed the window. She frowned as an unknown number popped up on the screen. “Hello?”
There was silence for several moments before Marcus said, “Billie. I know you are trying to woo me over to the dark side. And although I have no intention to oblige you, I would like you to continue to try to persuade me.”
Billie laughed. “You got my gift.”
Marcus chuckled. “I did. And as much as I would like to thank you for it, that isn’t why I called. There is something going on—something t
hat makes me nervous.”
She tensed and straightened. “What? What is it?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if it means anything so don’t freak out right away. But I thought it was strange. I have seen one of the agents I used to be a handler for at a bar near where I live. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry, but I kept my distance. I knew they would recognize me.”
Billie shook her head. “This is strange because there was one in the Zoo the other day. I tracked him to his contact, but the information had nothing to do with me. Still, this is a concern. Two is a coincidence, sure. Three, though, that’s a pattern. Before I even get to that point, I want to check this out. I want you to hide. Get out of your apartment, even if it’s in the basement of that building, and hide. I’m on my way to you as fast as I can get there.”
JB dried his hands off and tossed the paper towel in the trash. FUBAR had been continually busy as people came to meet New JB. He even met people who had never been there before but had heard the legendary stories about Old JB. It was now the middle of the day and they finally had a small lull in foot traffic. Paula had gone on break and ran back to her place to shower and eat.
He took a tray of dried glasses and set them carefully on the shelf, organizing them exactly as he used to. Surely no one would notice something that insignificant. He heard the front door open and shut as he placed the last glass on the shelf. When he turned, a man sat at the bar. It was very obvious that he didn’t belong.
With his brand-new T-shirt and obviously new cargo pants and boots, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair was cut short and his beard was perfectly trimmed. Instantly, JB was on guard, unsure of who this was or why he was there. He took a deep breath and walked up with a smile. “Hey there. What can I get for you?”
The man smiled. “I’ll take a rum and Coke, please. I heard this was the place to come for a good drink and some nachos.”
JB smirked. Someone was definitely fucking with the man if he thought their nachos were good. He maintained a straight face and turned to set the drink on a coaster. “Sure is. I’m JB.”
He stuck his hand out. The newcomer stared at it for a second before he grabbed it and shook mechanically. He placed a pile of papers down on the bar in front of him. “I thought I would catch up on some work while I eat.”
With a low chuckle, JB wrote an order for nachos, walked through the doors, and handed it to his kitchen guy with a wink. The man looked at the order and grinned. “Someone must be getting fucked with.”
They both laughed and JB returned to his place behind the bar. The stranger was already writing and paid no attention to him. He moved closer to stick his hands in the three-compartment sink and wash the rest of the glasses. As he dipped them into the second and third compartments, he glanced at the notes scattered on the counter. On top of one of them was a picture—one that forced him to take pause.
He scooted closer and stared surreptitiously at the face. It was unmistakable. It was a picture of Hickok.
Author Notes - Michael (Todd) Anderle
February 18, 2019
THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.
(I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)
RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?
If you have an agency that is focused on making people disappear, wouldn’t they suspect that a disappearing agent maybe faked her own death?
That was the premise behind this book.
I did not believe that the Agency would just accept Hickok’s death without a head to go with it—which means they would not believe Marcus’ death either. With all their assets, the Agency should be able to find Marcus and Hickok, no matter where they were in the world.
However, I don’t believe they should have poked this bear. In SOFF12, we have the Agency in one corner and Wild Billie Hickok in another. The Agency has international assets and at least fifteen high-level agents on their side.
Hickok has Holly, Amanda, Marcus, and her new friends in the ZOO on her side.
It’s a fair fight. May the best killers win.
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
One of the interesting (at least to me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at any time. In the future, I hope to re-read my own Author Notes and remember my life as a diary entry.
Las Vegas, NV USA
I’m typing this on my kitchen table in our condo. Presently, the table is a damned mess. My office is still stripped to the concrete, a foot of wall at the base cut out to help make sure no mold was growing after the water damage we suffered a couple of months ago.
Nothing will be worked on until Friday (it is Monday night at the moment.)
I used to think that it would be cool to live on a sailboat where every little nook and cranny had storage and your life was about the joy of living in a tiny space.
Sorry, but F#$k that. I NEVER want to have to live in a small space if I don’t have to. I already have a 10x10 air conditioned storage unit so I can put ‘stuff’ in there. Summertime? Grab the sweaters and blankets and store them in the unit until winter. Have extra LMBPN shirts to give to certain people in a couple of months? To the unit we go.
(Then forget them in the unit when you leave for
I look around at all of the miscellaneous stuff that is littering the condo. None of it is big and bulky and easy to make a decision to move to the storage unit. How the HELL did I acquire so many little pieces of junk that I think I need but I never need when I’m on a trip?
When I die, I wonder if I will have acquired so much stuff my kids have a moment of annoyance when they have to get rid of it? Boy, wouldn’t that suck!
Now, I think about the fact my parents are all still alive and think…
Maybe I’ll just have an already planned and paid for garage sale in my will…
ESTATE SALE - COME GET MY SHIT… signs already printed out.
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Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Ghost Revolution
Soldiers of Fame and Fortune Book Twelve
Chapter One
Hickok stood in the Starbucks bathroom and listened to the hustle and bustle of the city beyond the thin walls. Bangkok was wild—tall buildings soared into the sky, signs were lit up everywhere, and more people overflowed in one place than in most locations she had traveled to. Reaching Marcus undetected had become extremely difficult and she’d stopped off in Bangkok to make sure she had enough protection for when she finally arrived.
She removed her blonde wig and tossed it in the trash can. It took only a moment to withdraw a long. curly brown one from her bag and she bent forward, pulled it on, and flipped her head back. She changed quickly into a pair of shorts and a Starbucks T-shirt she had just bought with cash. Too many people had seen her in the other disguise, and she wanted to reach the airport without the worry that anyone might be following her. At that point, she didn’t trust anyone, not even the old woman who sold fish from a stand around the corner.
Billie knew how tricky agents could be, and she wasn’t about to be stupid enough to get caught before she had a chance to rescue Marcus from danger. She slipped her heels off, tossed them into the trash, and replaced them with a pair of flip flops. A touristy looking Starbucks Bangkok ball cap still had the tag on. She ripped it off, pulled the headgear on, and adjusted the bill to shadow her fac
e. Someone jiggled the handle of the bathroom door and she paused, immediately tense before she forced herself to relax. It was only a customer trying to use the restroom.
Rather than take unnecessary chances, she removed the bag from the trash can and tied it in a knot. The counter was perfectly placed to allow her to push herself up onto it and open a small window above her. She peered cautiously into the alley outside and noticed a dumpster directly below the aperture. The area was deserted so she dropped the bag out the window and into the dumpster and hopped back down.
With her backpack secured, she walked out of the bathroom and handed the key to the woman who waited outside with a small child. Hickok kept her head down as she moved through the line of people waiting for their coffees. Careful not attract attention, she pushed outside and immediately noticed an empty Tuk Tuk in front of her. The driver looked like a local and bright green and red advertisements were pasted all over the dirty vehicle. It didn’t look like anything the organization would have set up.
Billie hopped into the seat behind the driver and leaned forward. “I’ll give you a tip if you get me to the airport and don’t pick up any other travelers. Straight there.”
The man looked at her in confusion for a moment, and she realized he didn’t speak English. She tapped her fingers on her knees for a moment as she struggled to pull together her limited knowledge of Thai. It had been a really long time since she’d used it and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She could only hope that all her language training would pay off. “C̄hạn ca h̄ı̂ thip khuṇ t̄ĥā khuṇ kĕb mạn wị̂ khæ̀ reā trng pị yạng s̄nām bin.”
The driver stared at her for a moment and then arched his lips, grabbed the steering column, and accelerated down the street into the traffic. She leaned back and exhaled a deep breath before her phone buzzed in her pocket.