by Marnie Perry
He keyed some figures into the computer on his desk then turned it around so that it faced Hennessey and said, ‘would you enter your number and password please then press enter.’
Hennessey did and Glissando turned the computer back round, ‘well another mission and another transaction safely accomplished. The money will be in your bank account within minutes as usual.’
Hennessey nodded but did not rise from his seat; his gaze seemed riveted on the view from the window behind Glissando’s head. Yet there was really nothing to see, just well kept lawns and a tennis court, where two men and two women knocked a ball back across the court to each other. He could tell they were laughing although they could not be heard through the soundproofed glass. Hennessey had no doubt that it was bullet proof too, it needed to be.
Glissando was hated and abhorred by high and low alike. The low because he had once been one of them and now had what they did not, and used them to get it. The high because he was not one of them and never would be, no matter how rich he was or how high he rose. This house was a symbol of the kind of man Glissando was, crude, pretentious, ostentatious and vulgar.
Hennessey did not hate Glissando; he had no feelings about him one way or the other.
He worked for him from time to time because he was useful and he paid well, but for the right price he would not hesitate to extinguish him too, he might take more pleasure in “doing him” than he usually did, but then he would forget him just as he forgot the others. The joys of having a selective memory.
But for a man who usually didn’t give a fuck about his clients, or anyone else come to think about it, Hennessey’s natural curiosity caused him to wonder what it was that had made Glissando so angry. And he knew he was, as good as Glissando was at hiding his feelings; Hennessey was finely tuned to the emotions of others.
He studied the people outside; none of them were the girl that usually hung around. Although Glissando always told her to beat it when he was here, obviously she was not privy to Glissando’s secrets, but he had seen her with Glissando out in the garden or in the pool area every time he had been here. Except for that time just over a year ago, and today of course.
He shifted his gaze from the window to Glissando who was watching him intently a malevolent gleam in his eyes. He rose and said, ‘until next time then.’
Glissando did not rise and did not offer to shake Hennessey’s hand; it was not that sort of relationship. Besides he did not know where his hand might have been, or he did know and that’s way he did not want to touch him, he did not want to be tainted by the blood on this man’s hands. Glissando did not let himself dwell on the fact that it was blood that he had paid Hennessey to shed therefore was on his hands too. He said, ‘until next time.’
Hennessey turned and walked across the room opened the door then turned back to and said, ‘I hope you sort out your trouble, Mr. Glissando.’
Glissando raised his eyebrows in surprise then narrowed his eyes and for a moment Hennessey caught a glimpse of why people trembled in his presence. He himself was only amused by the look and he did not tremble, but then he was not “people” was he. He turned and walked out of the door closing it softly behind him.
Glissando stared at the door as if he could see Hennessey through the wooden panels and if he concentrated hard enough he could cause him to fall down dead. How he despised that guy with his supercilious arrogance. If he wasn’t so damn useful he would have him removed…permanently.
But even as he thought this he knew it was not that simple, Hennessey was just too good, too damn suspicious and cautious, he would never get caught unawares. Besides, he was very good at what he did, he never left a trace behind, he cleaned up after…after he did what he was paid to do. He never asked questions and he would never rat out a client if he was ever caught, which was highly unlikely. No, he would tolerate him…for now. But there would come a time when he would dispose of Hennessey, before Hennessey disposed of Glissando.
He leaned back in his chair and returned to what he had been thinking about before Hennessey’s arrival. Desi, that traitorous bitch, that ungrateful whore. He had been her friend, her benefactor, her saviour, and how had she repaid his benevolence? By lying and stealing and ultimately running from him. She had humiliated him, and that was not to be born. Oh, how he would make her pay. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern had better find her or he would be using Hennessey’s services a lot sooner than he had intended, for them as well as for her. He would do it now but that would deprive him of the fun he intended to have with her.
He swivelled his chair around and stared through the window. The sun was shining; his guests were still at play in the gardens and on the tennis courts. The peacocks he had had brought here from Australia were strutting their stuff on the newly mown grass, but he saw none of these things, he just saw Desi’s face, Desi’s lovely, angelic face flushed pink when he complimented her or when he entered her body. Desi’s deep brown eyes cast down as he stroked her hair, or kissed her forehead or gripped her small but sweet breasts. Desi’s full sweet lips swollen with the force of his kiss or when wrapped around his dick.
Then he visualised her face swollen and bloodied and distorted with agony. He saw her lovely hair matted with sweat and heard her screams of pain and her pleas for mercy as he took her again and again, from the front and from behind. He became hard just thinking about that, about having Desi in his power again. His erection was almost painful as he visualised her in his fun chamber. Oh, what he would do and how she would scream and beg, but this time he would not weaken, he would never let her leave that place, he would keep her there forever and visit her when it suited him.
Yes, he would control her every move and Dashiel Glissando knew just how to control his women.
And if he discovered that the woman who had helped her that night was still helping her, she would keep Desi company…for a time. He saw the woman’s face in his minds eye, pain filled and terrified. And along side her face that of Hennessey in his final moments, shocked and disbelieving that Glissando had gotten the better of him at last. Glissando felt better, much, much better.
*********
Meanwhile Hennessey was in the elevator in his apartment building. Although he could feel two pairs of eyes on the back of his neck, two female pairs of eyes, he did not turn around but looked directly ahead at the elevator doors. He knew they were assessing him just as he knew that they liked what they saw, most women did. He could easily have turned to them and started a conversation that would have resulted in one of them sharing his bed for the night, maybe even the next few nights, maybe even both of them for the next few nights. His libido was always pretty high after a hit but these two giggly girls did little for him, even two giggly girls of different colours.
The black girl said to the other, ‘you seeing Tress later?’
‘Huh, huh. You seeing Matzo?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Matzo is cool.’
‘He’s okay.’ A pause then, ‘he’s a kid really, not experienced, not like say, an older man.’
The other girl giggled, ‘yeah, older men now, they got something don’t they?’
‘Experience.’
‘Yeah, that’s it, experience.’
More giggles. ‘They knows what they’re doing, knows how to please a lady.’
‘Oh too right, except you ain’t no lady.’
They both laughed heartily at this. Then the first girl cleared her throat and addressing Hennessey asked, ‘uh, you live here?’
He did not turn to them but said, ‘no.’
The second girl said, ‘visiting someone?’
‘No.’
‘Then what ya doin' here?’
‘Minding my own business.’
‘Oh ain’t we antsy.’
‘Yep.’
‘Perhaps we can, uh, cheer ya up, like.’
‘Like?’
‘Yeah, ya know, like you could take us to dinner and a club, then ya know, like.’
They both giggled some more, ‘then later we could go back to our place…or yours… and have some more fun.’
He shook his head thinking that one day these two would ask the wrong guy to “ya know like.” He was the wrong guy of course, but not in that way, no, he was not into young kids.
One of them said, ‘got any stuff on ya?’
‘Stuff?’
‘Yeah ya know, stuff that makes ya feel gooood. Stuff that makes ya fly.' Both girls giggled uncontrollably.
Hennessey said, ‘oh, that kinda stuff. No, I’m not stupid.’
‘Oooh, get him Vonnie, ain’t he all saintly and law abiding.’
‘Like a catholic priest.’
‘Not like my catholic priest.’
They fell against each other laughing.
Hennessey closed his eyes. Vonnie said, ‘ya sure you don’t wanna go have some fun?’
‘I’ve never been so tempted in my life,’ the sarcasm was obvious even to two girls high on God knows what, ‘but unlike your catholic priest, I think I’ll resist the temptation.'
The second girl angry sounding now snapped, ‘you fuckin’ around with us, pal? 'Cos I got friends, friends that won’t take kindly to me being ridculed.’
He was in two minds whether to correct her grammatical error, but decided that would be taking the piss again so refrained.
Vonnie said, ‘I think he been pissing around with us since he got in the elevator, Sonnie. Maybe we should get the guys to pay him a visit, teach him some manners like.’
Vonnie and Sonnie he thought, sounded like a comedy double act, except these two weren’t funny.
He turned round slowly to face them, he took in their over made- up faces, their glassy eyes and their hostile expressions. He looked into Vonnie’s eyes then into Sonnie’s and watched as the hostility turned to apprehension then to fear, he watched as they both swallowed hard. As stoned as they were, they could not miss the cold, malignant look in those deep blue eyes. As stupid and ignorant as they were they could not help but notice the deadly undercurrent resting in their depths. They both took a step back. He studied them a while longer before turning back to face the doors which opened as if he had commanded them too. He stepped out then turned back, they both moved away so that their backs were against the far wall. He smiled, ‘another time perhaps. Goodnight…ladies.’
They looked fit to faint as he walked down the corridor to his room. He checked the hair he had wound around the hinges of the door noting that it was still in place, no one had entered his abode whilst he had been gone.
He unlocked the door and entered his apartment, he had lived here for ten days and it was time to move on. One, because he had spent long enough here…he tended not to stay more than two weeks in any one place. And two, because those girls might really have “friends” and they might just be stupid enough, or high enough to goad them into taking him on, which would be bad news…for them. He had nothing against those girls, they were young and silly and just now realising their power, their power over men. But maybe, just maybe, he had frightened them enough to think twice before trying it on with another stranger, a stranger who would do more than “have fun” with them. Maybe, but probably not.
This made him think of Glissando’s girl, or more appropriately Glissando’s slave girl, Desi, or Desdemona. Fucking Shakespeare again. His instincts told him that his troubles concerned the girl. He wondered if she had run away again. He recalled the last time that had happened, about a year or so ago. They had brought her back and he had heard she had been out of sight for several weeks afterwards. When he himself had seen her again she had had bruises on her arms, neck and shoulders, after almost four weeks they were still visible so they must have been pretty bad to begin with.
She had been subservient and submissive, although that was nothing new. But there had been a new meekness about her, a kind of defeated air that had not been there before. Or maybe he with his heightened sensitivities had been the only one to pick up on the crafty, slyness in her demeanour that had been present until then; she certainly must have kept it well hidden from Glissando for a long time. But that seemed to be absent now, beaten out of her probably.
She had never spoken to him but she had looked at him once or twice from under those dark lashes and he had seen fear as well as hatred in her eyes before she had lowered them. The last time he had seen her, a week ago, she had done the eyelashes thing, looking at him as though she expected him to draw his weapon and shoot her dead right then and there, before looking swiftly away, but not before he had seen something in her eyes.
He had stared hard at her willing her to look at him again but just then Glissando had approached, kissed her forehead and patted her ass before telling her to leave; she had obeyed with even more alacrity than usual. He could have told Glissando then that she was up to something, but why the fuck should he. It was fun seeing the bastard upset, and he also enjoyed being proved right. But he hoped he was wrong about the kid this time because if he was right, and he usually was, her timing couldn’t be more off.
He sighed heavily. It was frustrating to say the least, it made things far more complicated, but what could he do now but wait and see what transpired. In the meantime good luck to her, she would need it.
He walked over to his stereo and switched it on; the soft tones of Karen Carpenter filled the room. He went to the cupboard and took out his gun cleaning kit then sat down on the armchair and began cleaning his weapon. He did this gently and lovingly much as a mother would handle her baby. He loved this weapon, a Glock 18, semi automatic, illegal of course in this country…but then so was killing people for money, except if you were a cop of course…and had cost him a small fortune. He had had the Glock modified to fit a silencer, illegal too of course; oh he was a naughty boy.
He finished cleaning the gun, paying particular attention to it’s gold handle and mahogany grip, and slipped it into his shoulder holster then got himself a beer from the fridge, sat down in the armchair and closed his eyes. He was tired, tired and bored, a bored assassin that was one for the books, maybe he should try therapy, the thought made him smile.
He reached down to the coffee table and picked up the map of the world he carried with him. He always liked to take a vacation after a job and this time he might try Idaho or Maine, somewhere cooler. Or maybe abroad, Norway or Denmark or perhaps Ireland. He had never been one for the usual holiday destinations like Florida or California or the Caribbean etcetera. But he always tried to visit the Scandinavian countries or Europe. But first he had another job to do, a very personal job that had been a long time coming. But after that he would find a place to relax and unwind.
He was just glancing through the map and sipping his beer when a thumping could be heard over his head. He closed the book impatiently on the fingers of one hand and looked up. The bastard was at it again.
The thumps continued then the inevitable cries of the woman. Then there were sounds of things being thrown against walls and glass smashing and more cries from the woman before Hennessey heard the usual thud, then the springs of the bed creaking violently followed closely by the moans of the woman. He did not have to be an expert in sex noises, or to know this woman’s particular erotic cries to know that they were not moans of ecstasy.
He had seen the guy, whom he later learned was called Gus…he had heard the woman scream it enough times…in the elevator on his first day here. The man had tried to engage him in conversation but Hennessey had ignored him; he didn’t have to speak to him to know that he was a first class prick, and he’d been proved right. The man had asked what his problem was and Hennessey had not answered, it seemed a rhetorical question anyway since it seemed quite obvious that his problem was standing right next to him. Gus had called him an asshole and walked out of the elevator ahead of him through the foyer to the street door but not before Hennessey heard him say, ‘fucking prick.’
Now he thought about going up there and
punching the guy’s lights out, not for any chivalrous reasons, just for some peace and quiet.
It went on for five minutes, not as long as usual, maybe the guy was tired. After the third time of listening to him punching his wife’s lights out followed by the rapes he had considered putting a bullet in him, but that would be a waste of ammunition.
Maybe he should shoot her, put her out of her misery.
He heard the woman crying then the slam of the door; he picked up his earphones put them on and opened his map again.
Little did he know that less than one hundred miles away a man had already made a decision that would leave a scar on Hennessey's soul for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER 7.
Adela and Olivia sat either side of the table eating a salad they had prepared together. As they ate Adela was laying out the other part of her “cunning plan” for Olivia.
She said, ‘tomorrow I’ll go into Tallahassee and buy some new clothes for you, plus sunglasses and a new hat, those men might recognise the other one now. I’ll also buy a hair dye. What colour do you fancy?’
Olivia didn’t answer that but instead asked, ‘you’re determined to go through with this aren’t you.’
‘Of course, it’s part of the plan.’
‘I’m not talking about buying hair dye, I’m talking about this whole helping me thing.’
‘Yes, I am determined to go through with it. Olivia, I’m not just going to turn my back on you, not after everything you’ve told me about this Glissando person. You have to get away from him, as far and as fast as possible. And you can’t go around in those clothes; those men spotted you from two hundred yards away. They might have noticed your ill fitting clothes so they have to go and you have to have new ones,’ she smiled, ‘ones that actually fit. And your hair is very noticeable so that will have to go too, do you want to cut it short or just dye it? It’s up to you.’