I laid low for a few days, drank a bit, wandered down into the Casino a few times. Poker. Roulette. Blackjack. Lost some money. You can’t win in the long run - even the short run mostly. But the place was always overflowing with eager punters. Beats me why they all think they're the exception to the rule. On Monday night, I saw these two big Russian guys playing on one of the Texas-Holdem tables. They were betting big, playing very aggressively and losing. They didn't look very happy about it. It was Boris and Vadim but I hadn't met them at that point. I watched the nightly TV news. The fate of the elderly couple in Wagga Wagga dominated the headlines for a couple of days. Savagely axe-murdered. No-one knew why or, more importantly for me, who. Maybe just once, one evening, after a few too many bourbons, I even felt a bit sorry for them. Not a pleasant way to end your life. But there's no good way and the fucking assholes shouldn't have stolen my money.
Finally, it was Wednesday. I arrived at the Men's Club on Lonsdale Street just before 9:00 PM. I got out of the cab and strolled into the foyer. I love strip clubs and so does Charlie. You take a bunch of otherwise gossiping, scheming, manipulating females, strip them of all pretense and put them up on a table dancing in the nude for our pleasure and amusement. For a few extra bucks, you can get a private dance - not so much a dance really, just them rubbing their asses against your crotch and then rubbing their tits across your face. And they’re always begging you for the chance to keep going. At fifty bucks a pop, why the fuck not? Some cheap drinks, whisky and beer, while ogling the naked girls on the tables, and a few private dances, depending on your budget. My idea of a good night. And if you were still up to it there were several brothels within easy walking distance. Personally, these days, I preferred to just get drunk, and stagger out, half blind. There was an element of risk in that though, depending on the venue. If you staggered away from this place and blundered around the corner into King Street you'd be an obvious target. Easily get beaten up or knifed to death. So, it was always best to catch a cab at the door.
I paid the entrance fee and walked on in. Instant loud blaring music and naked girls everywhere. Whoa! There were a large number of men sitting around on chairs and couches watching the girls. A surprising number of them were wearing suits - but it was a Wednesday night and we were in the middle of the CBD. How else to unwind after a long day in the office? I went on over to the bar thoroughly enjoying the view. There were two blondes on the first table that I passed. Long hair, blue eyes, perfect tits, exquisitely shaped hips and butt, completely shaved. They could have been twins - easily my favorite combination. The music had suddenly changed to something that was a bit on the slow side but with a heavy beat. The blondes were swaying their hips around - looking just fucking gorgeous. On the next table, there was a young Asian girl - short black hair, small tits, slightly plump ass. Like all the others she was completely naked. She was smiling. God knows why. When I got to the bar I grabbed a double scotch with ice. I was feeling a bit hyper, a bit anxious. A few of these would slow me down, maybe even help me feel a bit mellow. That'd be good. I hadn't felt that for a while.
I wandered slowly around the downstairs area looking for Uncle Charlie. He was usually prompt and we had agreed on 9:00 PM. When I couldn’t find him, I went up the main stairway onto the first floor. More tables, more girls, more drunks. I couldn’t see Charlie anywhere on that floor either. I looked around again and that's when I first saw Natasha. She was dancing on a table on the other side of the room. She was naked too, and just achingly beautiful. Perfectly proportioned, perfect breasts just the right size, long brunette hair. A deep beautiful smile. She actually looked like she was embarrassed. She told me later that even though she'd been dancing here for months she still got embarrassed standing up on a table nude before so many men. She found it humiliating. Well I guess it would be. But I would never know. No-one was ever gonna pay for the privilege of staring at me, naked or otherwise.
When the music changed to the next song Natasha got down off the table and changed into a skimpy red dress. She'd seen me looking at her and so naturally came straight over to me to ask me if I wanted a dance. Obviously, I said yes. She took me by the hand and led me to one of the private booths. I sat down on the large chair provided. I told her my name, she told me hers. She took off her dress again and sat down on my lap, facing me, straddling me. Oh God. I hadn't been with a woman for some time. And so far, I'd only had one drink. I got an instant hard-on. She felt it and pressed herself up against it, smiling at me impertinently. She seemed impressed. I have a rather large dick. Tends to have that effect on women. I smiled back at her. She stood up, turned around facing her ass towards me. She swayed back and forwards a few times and then sat back down on my lap - this time facing away from me. She didn’t object when I placed my hands on her hips, holding her. Strictly speaking it was meant to be look but don’t touch. But ... for fuck’s sake. She moved her hips around, grinding into me. I groaned out loud. I was deeply aroused and I was not afraid to show it. I heard her laugh. She seemed to find me amusing.
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Meanwhile back in Natasha's apartment - less than a kilometer away in North Melbourne - Boris, Vadim and Constantine were in the process of murdering Wayne Cummings. Natasha had ordered Wayne to leave when they woke up on Saturday morning. But he had nowhere to go. He’d begged and whined. She’d given him one week to find something - but he had to sleep on the couch. She had made it very clear to him that it was over - that she thought he was a useless worthless little prick with no redeeming virtues, none at all. Boris, Vadim and Constantine had arrived in Melbourne on Sunday night. They were also staying at the Crown Metropol Hotel next to the Crown Casino. They had two separate suites on the seventh floor - Suite 712 for Boris and Vadim and the one next door, Suite 714 for Constantine. They were good rooms, facing south with a nice view of Phillip Bay and some of the beaches. It had taken them a couple of days to acquire some weapons using one of their local dealers. And then it took another day to track down the hacker, with the assistance of a couple of the local cops who were on their payroll. They'd spent some time in the Casino while they were waiting. Between them they were a few thousand dollars down - an amount which meant very little to Boris or Vadim and nothing at all to Constantine.
Boris had just punched Wayne in the side of the head, not hard enough to kill him but hard enough to send him smashing into the wall. Wayne crumpled into a heap. Vadim forced him onto his feet and shuffled him back to the couch throwing him back down onto it. Wayne was wailing and moaning. He already had a broken leg and a broken arm, a few nasty cuts and rapidly forming bruises, blood all over his face. He cried out,
"Please, please, don't kill me, I'll do anything, anything."
He started to blubber, tears mixing in with the blood on his face. Boris and Vadim looked at each other knowingly. This little turd was as weak as piss. Off to the side Constantine started giggling. They both looked at him. Yeah, he wasn’t much better. Weak, spoiled little prick. If he wasn’t the boss's son Boris would have killed him then and there just on principle.
Boris stood over Wayne and drew out his gun. He took his time attaching the silencer. Wayne stared at this, eyes wide, almost bursting with terror. Boris spoke sternly but with a tinge of wry amusement, completely lost on his victim.
"Are you sure you've told us everything?"
Wayne screamed out,
"Yes. Yes. Oh, please don’t, please."
Boris barked at him sharply,
"We have all the backups, there are no others?"
Wayne whimpered,
"Yes, Yes."
Boris looked over at Vadim. Vadim nodded. They'd interrogated a lot of people. They knew he wasn’t lying. Boris moved his gun around a bit and then pointed it straight at Wayne's head.
"Anyone helping you? Who lives here with you? Lot of women's clothing about. Bras, panties. You do a little cross dressing do you Wayne? Wouldn’t surprise me, you look the type."
> Vadim shuffled uneasily in place and looked away. Boris noticed this and rolled his eyes, thinking,
“Oh, for fucks sake!”
Wayne screamed out,
"Natasha. Natasha Brown. I'll tell you where she is."
Boris sneered at him, demanding,
"All right, where?"
Wayne pleaded with him,
"But you have to let me go."
Boris shot him in the leg. Just a flesh wound, but excruciatingly painful. He repeated himself,
"Where?"
And then he pointed his gun at Wayne’s other leg. Wayne screamed out, even more wretchedly than before,
"She's at the Men's Club - it’s a strip club in the city. She'll be there until 3:00 AM. There's a picture of her on the dresser. She helped me, no, no I mean she did most of it. It was her. All of it. I didn’t do anything. Please, please let me go, please let me go."
Boris was satisfied. He checked with Vadim. Vadim nodded. They had all they needed. He turned back towards Wayne. He mocked him.
"Times up, Wayne."
Suddenly Constantine spoke up.
"No. Let me do it. I want to do it."
He'd been watching the whole thing, giggling softly now and again, way out of his depth. Boris looked at him, shrugged.
"Yeah, all right."
They didn’t really have a choice. This was what Mr. Alexandrovistch wanted. They stood off to the side, watching carefully, weapons ready. They didn’t want to get accidentally shot themselves.
Constantine strode forwards, pulled out his own weapon - a standard model Glock - attached the silencer and then pointed it down at Wayne. Boris and Vadim had objected to Constantine being armed but Mr. Alexandrovistch had insisted on it. Constantine fired six shots in rapid succession - two in the head, three in the chest and one in the groin. The spread was more accidental than intended. He was just firing wildly. When he stopped he looked down at the bloodied corpse and started giggling again.
They cleaned themselves up as best they could. Constantine had to change into some of Wayne's clothes. Vadim checked the location of the club on his phone. Boris grabbed Natasha's picture so that he would be able to identify her. They left quickly - driving to the Club in their rental car. It only took a few minutes.
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I saw Uncle Charlie just outside the booth, walking around, obviously looking for me. Ever so reluctantly I separated myself from Natasha. Even from that very first evening there was just something about her, biting into me. We stood up together. I thanked her politely, turned, walked out of the booth. I wished that I could have stayed there with her for hours but I had things to do. I caught Uncle Charlie's eye. We walked together over to the side of the main room, shook hands. I got us a couple of beers and we stood there drinking, watching the naked girls on the large central table - six of them, all at the same time. For now, at least the music wasn't too loud. Uncle Charlie had shaved his head since the last time I'd seen him. He was ten years older than me but much fitter looking. I knew he put a lot of time into working out. He regularly practiced unarmed fighting - Jujitsu and some Muay Thai as well. I'd trained with him for a while when I got out of prison. He taught me some good moves. His business was selling illegal weapons - which in Australia meant just about anything more lethal than a pocket knife. But it was a competitive business, dangerous and cut-throat, not for the faint hearted. Charlie used to be a captain in the SAS. He was not someone to mess with. Faint-hearted was not a phrase that would ever come to mind when describing Uncle Charlie.
After an appropriate time, I handed him my list. He looked it over, raised his eyebrows, then turned towards me speaking just loud enough for me to hear, but no-one else.
"Fuck me, Brian! What are you gonna do with all this? Go on a fucking killing spree?"
I nodded.
"Yep."
He seemed puzzled.
"Why the fuck do you wanna do that?"
I replied simply,
"Cancer. Terminal."
He looked at me.
"Geez mate! I'm really fucking sorry to hear that." He paused to let it sink in. Then he told me, "All right, I can give you the lot at cost. Come see me day after tomorrow. Not the rocket launcher though, too expensive. Who the fuck you wanna kill with that, anyway?"
I said,
"Barry Robertson."
Charlie replied,
"Oh. That cocksucker was your parole officer too, wasn’t he? Yeah all right you can have the rocket launcher for free."
I smiled.
"Thought you might say that."
Charlie looked serious.
"Do him first though. Don't want you getting killed before you get to him."
I agreed. We shook hands again. Charlie made his way downstairs and into the bathroom. I followed him. We were alone in there for a moment. He passed me a package in a large brown paper bag. He explained,
"A Glock. A few clips. Keep you going until Friday. Pay me then. Stay out of trouble now."
Then he turned and left. I slipped into one of the stalls. Loaded a clip into the gun. Charlie had included a shoulder holster. Very convenient. I put it on, placed the weapon in it. Put my jacket back on. It always pays to be ready. And just as well in view of what was about to happen.
I walked back out onto the main floor. There were still beautiful nude girls dancing up on the tables in all directions, the same excessively loud music. The same hordes of drunk men sitting around the tables staring at them morosely, a few moving from place to place. But it all immediately sank into the background. Two large thugs in thick grey suits were walking towards me. A shorter weedy guy, quite young, was with them. They had Natasha. She was wearing jeans and a blue top. One of the big guys was holding her arm. She wasn't going with them willingly. She looked terrified. I was between them and the front door. She saw me, recognized me, looked at me pleadingly. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped in front of them. The short weedy guy pulled a gun on me and screamed at me,
"Out of my way dickwad."
Never draw a gun unless you're ready to use it and certainly not if you are standing too close. I hit out at his arm knocking it just slightly to the side. Amateur! If he was serious he would have had time to get a shot off. Straight into me. I grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling it down, twisting it and then jerking it down abruptly, snapping the elbow. The gun fell out of his hand. Thank you, Uncle Charlie. He fell over onto it screaming in pain. I snapped out my weapon and pointed it at the two large men who were just starting to reach for their own weapons. They were professionals. But a bit slow really. Maybe distracted by all the female flesh. They could see that I wouldn't hesitate for a moment. They stopped moving. Just waited. The little jerk rolled over the gun on the floor, grabbed it with his other hand and was starting to turn back towards me. I shot him in the head twice, killing him instantly, then turned back quickly to cover the two thugs who both seemed to be in shock. They let go of Natasha, who quickly moved away from them and went to my side. We backed away from them slowly. She opened the front door for us and we backed our way out into the foyer. No-one stopped us. I thought I heard a few screams and could see the beginning of a reaction. But it had all happened so fast that no-else there had a clue what was going down or what to do. We went out the front entrance. There were some bouncers but they saw the gun and backed off. We got out onto the street and then turned and fled.
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Boris and Vadim looked down at the dead body of Constantine Alexandrovistch not quite believing what they were looking at. They were both extremely upset and distraught, something neither of them had ever really felt before. Vadim looked over at Boris and expressed what they were both feeling.
"Oh man, we are so fucked."
Chapter 6. Svetlana. Psycho Bitch from Hell.
Dmitri Alexandrovistch had sent Svetlana Araknilova to track down and kill Serge Petrov. Petrov, a long-time associate, had finall
y succumbed to temptation and stolen money from Dimitri. Five million Euros! The penalty for this was death. It hadn't taken Svetlana long to find him, just a few days. He was hidden away in Podesk - a small village just a hundred kilometers south-east of Moscow. Now he was in a room in one of the village's nondescript houses, tied naked to a chair, legs spread, looking up into the severe and unforgiving face of Dimitri Alexandrovistch's most feared assassin. Then she smiled at him and Serge knew without a doubt that he was a dead man. He started shaking. He'd never really thought of himself as brave, and now he knew for certain that he wasn’t. He stared at Svetlana briefly. She was wearing plain light blue jeans and a thick black jacket. It was winter in Russia, cold and snowing outside. It was early in the afternoon. He couldn’t help but notice how devastatingly beautiful she was.
101 People to Kill Before I Die Page 4