Death Takes a Partner: A Mary Jo Assassin Novel

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  Jean went to the fridge of the apartment and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice and some chilled vodka and filled a tall glass with ice.

  Then with the drink in her hand, she sat on her couch and turned on the television. They had worked in time in the plan for her to watch her favorite soap opera. She loved doing that while sipping on a drink.

  This would be the last drink until the job was completely done later tonight, so she was going to savor it.

  And then really, really enjoy the drink with Mary Jo later.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  STANTON’S PARENTS WERE the country club types. They had a huge mansion in the Hamptons and loved being retired there. Stanton paid for it all.

  And the two of them were creatures of extreme habit, just as their son. Last night, late, Jean had set a very, very powerful bomb in the Mercedes they always drove to the country club for their afternoon tennis lessons.

  Mary Jo wondered if Stanton knew that his parents then paid the tennis pro a very large bonus to have sex with Stanton’s mother while his father watched, sucking his thumb.

  More than likely not.

  When Mary Jo had told Jean about that discovery, she had just shaken her head. “For a change I think we are doing the world a favor here.”

  “Now don’t go getting all superhero on me,” Mary Jo had said, smiling at the beautiful face of the woman she loved.

  Jean had laughed and later that night had pulled a sheet up over her shoulders, standing naked over Mary Jo in a wonderful position straddling her.

  Then Jean had said, “Super Assassin to the rescue.”

  “I know what will stop Super Assassin,” Mary Jo had said.

  “Nothing can stop me!” Jean had said.

  Mary Jo sat up and buried her face in Jean’s crotch, holding her tight by her butt cheeks.

  “Well, that will certainly slow a hero down,” Jean had said after a long moan.

  Mary Jo locked up the apartment after one last check and put her keys in the landlord’s mailbox with a thank-you note. Then with just a backpack, she left the building. She had moved what few clothes she had kept there out of the apartment yesterday and given them away to a charity.

  Jean would be doing the same thing in their other apartment near Stanton’s home shortly. Right after she finished watching her favorite soap opera.

  Mary Jo loved the fact that Jean had a favorite soap opera. It didn’t interest Mary Jo much, but she loved that Jean was passionate about it.

  Two blocks up the street, Mary Jo hailed a cab and was dropped off along the edge of Central Park within a few blocks of Stanton’s large apartment looking out over the park.

  There, sitting on a park bench so she could see the large apartment balcony, she had her laptop open like any writer out working on a story on a nice afternoon.

  She glanced at the time and then she started the ball rolling.

  It was exactly three-fifteen in the afternoon.

  First, she drained every dollar of both corporation accounts, making the transaction look as if Stanton had taken the money in all respects.

  She made the transaction look like it started from his personal laptop computer and then she started the international programs that would make the money completely vanish after dozens of transfers through holding and shell accounts around the world, ending up eventually in one of hers or Jean’s many accounts.

  Then she did the same with every one of Stanton’s bank accounts, making it look like he had transferred all his money offshore. She cashed out everything he had.

  She even drained every one of his credit cards.

  In just minutes Stanton had gone from having hundreds of millions to not having a dime.

  She had also purchased with one of his last credit cards in his name and some phony woman’s name, ten different plane tickets for this evening from three different New York area airports to countries that did not extradite.

  To anyone, it looked like he had cleaned out everything and was fleeing the country.

  There could be no other way anyone could read what had happened, no matter how much Stanton claimed otherwise.

  Then, at twenty-nine minutes after the hour, she clicked on a camera link that Jean had hacked into on a camera on a pole in the Hamptons.

  Mary Jo knew that Jean would also be watching now, since her soap was over.

  The Hamptons had great security cameras. But the security system was far too easy to hack into to be worthwhile. It was how Jean had gotten in and out undetected to plant the bomb.

  As Mary Jo watched, Stanton’s parents, all dressed up in their tennis outfits, came out of the back door of the house as the garage door opened.

  They climbed into their Mercedes.

  A few seconds later the camera flashed and when the image cleared, it showed most of the house completely destroyed and in flames. Debris was flying through the air.

  “Boom,” Mary Jo said.

  Then she destroyed that link.

  Stanton Cobble the Third was just starting to pay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JEAN WATCHED ON her laptop in her apartment as Stanton’s parents were removed from the planet by the bomb she had planted. She had used enough explosives to take out half of the house just in case one of them hadn’t been inside the car.

  They both had been, so the police would be scraping pieces of those two out of the surrounding neighborhood for a month.

  Jean deleted any evidence of the link and clicked into a second link. She knew that Mary Jo was watching the same thing she was. That made her happy, actually. She never had been able to share her passion, her work with anyone before.

  Jean shut off the television, put her glass in the sink for someone to wash later, then moved to the window and opened the blinds before going back to the couch. She knew that Mary Jo had a front row seat in the park somewhere. Jean was going to get the front row seat here because she could see Stanton’s apartment clearly out of a side front room window.

  She had spent a lot of time in Stanton’s apartment, actually, exploring every nook and cranny. It was a beautiful place, worth the millions it cost him.

  Or it would be for a short time.

  A very short time.

  Stanton’s wife was also a creature of extreme habit. The kids did not get home until four in the afternoon, so at three-thirty, Stanton’s wife always took a shower.

  Jean watched the feed of the bathroom door of Stanton’s wife’s bedroom in their penthouse apartment. After a shower that lasted exactly five minutes, Stanton’s wife, a brunette with dyed blonde hair came out of the bathroom with a towel on her head and headed for her closet. The woman had a nice body and kept herself in shape. Too bad Stanton was such an idiot and didn’t pay attention.

  And too bad the woman let Stanton be such a bastard. Staying with someone just for the money was never worth the price it cost, in Jean’s opinion.

  Stanton’s wife was going to pay a very heavy price for what her husband had done.

  Jean pushed three keys at the same time on her laptop.

  A moment later, the camera link flashed and went dead.

  Jean looked up to see the explosion shattering the entire top of the building, making people on the sidewalk below flee in panic from all the falling debris.

  “Boom,” Jean said a fraction of a second before the sound of the real explosion reached her.

  Stanton had now lost his wife, his parents, and every penny he had.

  And he would be quickly arrested, since she and Mary Jo had tipped off a number of police, the FBI, and the Security and Exchange commission about Stanton and his plans to skip town.

  His children would be without money and would end up living with his wife’s parents, two nice people outside of Chicago. More than likely they would be better off with their grandparents than living with Stanton.

  Jean watched the cloud of smoke rise up into the air over the large penthouse. She didn’t even smile.

  Stan
ton should have paid Jean and Mary Jo their final fee.

  It really was that simple.

  Jean closed her laptop, put it in a backpack, checked the apartment one more time and headed for the door, leaving the keys on the dresser for the landlord to find.

  She had a dinner date with a beautiful woman and she needed to get ready.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  MARY JO GOT to their new apartment just a minute before Jean did. They kissed and hugged and then both laughed.

  Their apartment together was about ten blocks from Stanton’s lover’s nest and was also a penthouse, but it didn’t have a hot tub and they both missed that.

  They spent the next hour on Jean’s computer, making sure all the money had moved correctly and was now impossible to trace and living in their accounts.

  Mary Jo wasn’t even surprised at how much richer she and Jean both were now. It made no difference to her, since they hadn’t done this for the money. But it still pleased her.

  In her world, money and death were staples of what she worked for.

  And now she lived for Jean and for a good vodka and orange juice.

  After dealing with the money, they both got dressed up and headed out for a wonderful night on the town. They had a perfect dinner followed by a little dancing at a local club and then some wonderful lovemaking after they got home.

  And, there was vodka and orange juice involved all along the way.

  The next morning, Mary Jo awoke smelling rich coffee and eggs.

  She washed her face, put on her bathrobe and joined Jean in the kitchen.

  The television was on low, but loud enough to hear.

  “Anything happening in the world?” Mary Jo asked.

  Jean came over and kissed her, poured her a cup of coffee, and then went back to fixing the eggs.

  “The press is saying some rich businessman blew up his wife and his parents,” Jean said, “so he could escape with his bimbo. It wasn’t terrorists at all.”

  “That’s good to know it wasn’t terrorists,” Mary Jo said. “Did they catch him?”

  “They got him coming out of a love nest not far from here.”

  “Perfect,” Mary Jo said, laughing. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.”

  “Got that right,” Jean said.

  They ate and laughed and talked and Mary Jo knew that wonderful breakfast was the start of their new life together.

  Then, two months later, on the anniversary of what they called The Event, when Mary Jo killed both Jean’s and her own husband, Mary Jo and Jean put a bid in on Stanton’s love nest. A bid so high, they knew they would get it.

  After all, they were using Stanton’s own money.

  Then at exactly three-ten in the afternoon, while standing on the sidewalk outside what they hoped would be their new condo, they used a burner phone to put in a call to Stanton where he was being held on suicide watch in a prison upstate.

  Mary Jo had sent money through channels to make sure one of the guards gave Stanton a burner phone as well at exactly the right time.

  And she gave the guard enough money also for after the phone call, to make Stanton hurt a little without killing him.

  Mary Jo stood close to Jean against a stone wall of one building, holding the phone out on speaker so Jean could hear.

  “Yes,” Stanton said.

  The sound of Stanton’s voice just made Mary Jo shudder.

  “You should have paid us the six million,” Mary Jo said.

  Then she clicked off the phone and dropped it into a bag of bagels she had just bought. Then ten steps later she dropped the entire bag into a garbage can. She had rigged the phone to melt into a pool in two minutes after she used it.

  Then the two of them walked hand-in-hand back toward their penthouse.

  “Wow, that felt wonderful,” Jean said. “Just flat wonderful.”

  Mary Jo had to agree. It did feel fantastic. Usually killing a target didn’t feel this good. But they hadn’t actually killed their target.

  At least not in a way that would make it easy on him.

  But they had made sure he knew who had done all this to him. And having him know felt perfect.

  Three months later, she and Jean were looking over the empty condo and the recently cleaned hot tub of Stanton’s former love nest. They had just bought the place and the two of them were planning furniture and acting like excited schoolgirls getting ready for the first day of school, especially around the wonderful rooftop hot tub.

  Mary Jo loved the city.

  Mary Jo loved Jean.

  And they both loved the condo.

  And surprisingly also important, Mary Jo had realized that she loved vodka and orange juice even more when she had someone to enjoy it with.

  PART SEVEN

  A Disturbance

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THEY HAD A stalker.

  Mary Jo needed to tell Jean. But she didn’t want to. She knew what she had to say would change everything.

  And the last year had been wonderful. They even had planned a night on the town for the second anniversary of The Event. Mary Jo had never imagined herself being so happy, so content with a life.

  Both of them in the last year had turned down offers for targets. Both of them just wanted to enjoy the time for as long as they could.

  But Mary Jo had no doubt what she had seen would change that and change everything.

  So that morning, while they were both eating a light breakfast of eggs and toast around their small, but cozy, kitchen table that looked out at the rooftop garden, Mary Jo just blurted it out.

  “We’re being followed. Maybe targeted.”

  Jean glanced up from her iPad, her toast halfway to her mouth. Mary Jo could see instant worry in Jean’s wonderful green eyes.

  “It’s a pro, I’m sure,” Mary Jo said. “Maybe from the order.”

  “Why would anyone hire an assassin against one of us?” Jean asked.

  Mary Jo shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe our last client decided to finish the job before we finished him and the assassin was never called off. You know how patient we can all be.”

  Jean put her toast down and sat back, staring at Mary Jo with her intense green eyes.

  Mary Jo hated to ruin such a perfectly good day, but they had to work together now to solve whatever was happening. That was one of the hardest things Mary Jo was trying to adapt to, that there was two of them now. She had a partner and she actually loved that fact, something she never would have thought possible before.

  “Describe what you saw, exactly,” Jean said.

  Mary Jo nodded and went carefully through the details of spotting the stalker three different times. The woman following them was as short as they were, with short black hair and a dark skin. The woman had all the traits of an assassin of the order.

  Jean listened until Mary Jo was done, then said simply, “I’ve seen her as well. But didn’t realize she was following us. Very good observation.”

  That shocked and worried Mary Jo even more.

  “You ever targeted another order member?” Jean asked. “I haven’t.”

  Mary Jo shook her head. “Never. Can’t imagine it ever happening.”

  Jean nodded. “So first we find out if this person following us is an order member.”

  Mary Jo watched as Jean stood and vanished into the side room where she kept what little personal things she had kept from their last job. She came back a moment later.

  Mary Jo couldn’t imagine calling the order for anything, but clearly Jean didn’t have that problem at all. Mary Jo had a phone with a direct link to the order just as Jean did, but she always kept it turned off and in a heavy metal box.

  Jean smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her green eyes. Then she punched one key.

  After a tense moment of silence she said, “Freyia Mist.”

  Mary Jo knew that was Jean’s order name. Mary Jo’s order name at the moment was Angela Sea. It had been numbers of others o
ver the centuries.

  “I am with another order member,” Jean said into the phone. “Angela Sea. Are we being targeted by an order member?”

  Jean listened for a moment, then said simply, “Understood.”

  She hung up and put the phone on the table.

  Mary Jo just sat, waiting as Jean took a deep breath.

  “We are not being targeted by another order member and it is against order rules for one member to turn on another for any reason.”

  Mary Jo felt a huge sense of relief.

  “Thank you,” she said to Jean.

  “So any suggestions?” Jean asked, smiling and this time the smile reached her eyes.

  “Now that we know that critical fact,” Mary Jo said, “I think we need to invite our stalker to the party.”

  “We’re throwing a party?”

  “I think we should,” Mary Jo said, smiling. “A very intimate party with just you and me and our stalker.”

  Jean laughed. “Think she’ll like vodka and orange juice?”

  “If not,” Mary Jo said, “she won’t be allowed to stay.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  THE FALL DAY was perfect in the city, with temperatures just over sixty and a slight breeze. The trees in the city hadn’t started losing their leaves yet, but Jean had no doubt it wouldn’t be long now.

  Today, she was in disguise. She had on a red-haired wig and wore older jeans and a T-shirt with a denim jacket. She would never go out like this normally, but today she and Mary Jo had what they called “Invite Day.” Their stalker was going to join them even if she didn’t want to.

  After that morning, they had double-checked their condo’s security for any unwanted bugs and also checked other apartments for line-of-sight watching, just as Mary Jo had done when good old Stanton had used this condo to meet his mistress.