by C R Martens
“I did everything you’re expected to do when approaching a new assignment; I learnt all I could about my target, his culture and his habits. Then I learnt the geography of all the places he frequented often. And I memorised it so I didn’t have to rely on technology to get around – technology can be tracked. I created a backstory for myself, one that didn’t differ too much from my own. If you want to lie well, lie as truthfully as you can. I was thorough in my research. At first, the brief was to get close to the family, and to him in particular, which was easy. Then the brief changed just as I was leaving for Rome, I was now supposed to get him addicted to stronger drugs, get him further into his drug addiction and then expose him to the media. The blame for his addiction was going to be put on someone else in the syndicate. I was going to make a dent in the otherwise tightknit family. The purpose was of course to start a chain reaction of destruction within the syndicate, ultimately leading to its demise.” Eve didn’t question the order then, she was too eager to please the firm. But she didn’t tell the psychologist that, of course.
“I was more excited than nervous when I left for Rome. I had my background story in place – I was an art student there for an internship at a prominent art gallery. The gallery owner had previously been under investigation by FIA but his connections to the black market turned out to be quite valuable so he was turned into an asset for the firm. It was three days after my arrival that I caught Francesco in my net. Even though it was early spring, the Mediterranean warmth was making its presence known. Personally, I like the heat, I like what it brings with it. It’s more than warmth, it’s a feeling. You feel hot, your skin is moist and glowing, the heat is sexy. All of a sudden, everything is possible. Affairs you didn’t think of blossom, you meet someone by chance, someone who changes you. Electricity is in the night air, all of a sudden in a crowded bar you feel a stranger’s hand on the small of your back, you shiver and your body starts to pulsate and your breathing becomes slower. All because of one touch and three whispered little words, ‘I want you’. And he did. We spent the evening at the club moving closer and closer to each other, when finally the magnetism between us became so strong it pulled us right back to his penthouse flat – well, the balcony of his flat; it was too hot in the bed. It was 3.30 in the morning when I left my number on his dresser and left his flat. As I was walking home from Francesco’s, heels in hand, I felt the lines blur. My reality and my job weren’t two distinct entities anymore. I was my job now and so was the Italian.
“My job, however, was made easier by Francesco. Never had I met someone who moved as fast as the Italian did. Three weeks into my assignment and Francesco had laid his claim on me, not knowing who he had let into his life. It didn’t take long for me to be introduced to his family, who were ecstatic, as they had never met a ‘girlfriend’ before. I, however, was just a small part of his larger plan, a plan to seem more grown up and responsible in the eyes of his family. I was nothing more than a prop. Which was fine by me.
“Everything was going to plan and two and a half months into the assignment the time came for me to introduce him to more serious drugs. He was already a confident user of cocaine so the jump to a stronger substance wouldn’t be suspicious. It was a Saturday and we had already been out at parties on the Thursday and Friday. Francesco was coming to my flat to pick me up as we were going to yet another party. I had staged my flat so that Francesco would find the new high-grade lab-created drug patches. I had tried not to make it obvious, though that I wanted him to find them. They were just like morphine patches, but smaller and containing cocaine, only a much strong dose. I knew they would appeal to the Italian’s vanity, his image was everything, and though he was addicted to the party drug already he certainly didn’t want to look like an addict – and snorting drugs up your nose definitely made you look like one.
“‘Hi Francesco,’ I said, standing in the open door, wearing my silk dressing gown and little else. ‘Come in.’
“‘Ciao, you look even more beautiful than last night.’ He gave me a kiss and came in.
“‘Do you want a glass of wine?’ I asked, walking into my bedroom.
“‘Yes,’ he said from the living room. I had put the patches on the coffee table slightly hidden under some magazines, only slightly visible. I could watch him looking around from the bedroom while I finished my makeup. It didn’t take long for him to spot the half-hidden patches. I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen to grab the wine and glasses, and when I came back out he was standing facing me with a patch in his hand.
“‘What’s this?’ he asked. ‘Are you in pain? Are these for pain relief?’
“‘No, I’m not and they aren’t,’ I said, putting the wine and glasses on the coffee table. ‘These are why I don’t snort cocaine. They are cocaine in a patch.’
“‘Cocaine?’ He looked at the small patch with some interest and a little scepticism. ‘I haven’t heard about these.’
“‘No, few have.’ I took the patch out of his hand and handed him the wine to open. ‘Most people like the instant kick – that is why they sniff the drugs. These patches take a little longer to kick in but they get you higher for longer.’
“That was it, that was all the sales pitch he needed. We sat down and started on the wine. One glass later and I felt his fingers playing with my hair, gently touching my neck, his eyes on me. I was looking at a magazine but I wasn’t paying attention to it because I knew what was about to happen. I could feel every breath and my chest moving up and down, my teeth biting my lower lip and my tongue playing with my lips. He moved in slowly and I could feel his lips grazing the skin on my neck. He bit the strap of my top and bra, pulling them off my shoulder, kissing my shoulder, and slowly moving his lips up my neck. The silk dressing gown slipped off my shoulder. My entire body was vibrating; I could barely contain myself, all my senses were screaming. They were screaming for him, I was screaming for him. He turned my head and with teasing lips and a firm grip, he pulled me in and kissed me. With one hand on my neck and the other on my hip, his fingers pressing firmly into my thigh, tickling me from the outside in. My hands gripped his arms and I could feel his muscles flexing. In one smooth motion, he pulled me down on the sofa, I felt my dressing gown drop off my thighs as he pushed down on top of me.
“He kissed me deeply and passionately as he opened his trousers. My head wanted to hold him off for a little while, tease him, but my body wouldn’t let me. He pushed his hands down over my thighs, down under my bum, tightly grabbing my lace knickers, pulling them off in one easy move. Starting at my knee, his tongue played its way up between my legs. His tongue was making my body tremble and shake; the sensation I felt was incredible, never before had I felt pleasure like this, for that long.
“I found myself begging him to let me come. He kept teasing me. Then he stopped, pulled open the dressing-gown tie, stood up and let his trousers drop. What happened next was an hour of divine delight; he did everything I could have wanted and more.
“After cuddling on the couch, naked and sweaty, Francesco got up and got the patches. Moments later I was applying the cocaine patch on his shoulder and then he unknowingly placed a placebo patch on me. I didn’t know if sex was a necessary part of my job but it had felt natural in the moments it had happened and even if it wasn’t specified in the brief I had a feeling it was an unwritten part of the deal. How else was I supposed to get close to him with the brief the firm had provided for me? And I wasn’t one to be weighed down by regret.
“‘Let’s go have a party.’ Francesco smiled at me and I had to tell myself that he was an assignment and that this would end soon.
“A week later everything changed. I was called back to London, which is just not done when you’re in the middle of an undercover assignment unless something vital to the case has been uncovered or you are in immediate danger. I told Francesco my aunt had died, which was the story Harlow had given me as an exit plan.
“‘Please apologise to your family,’ I t
old him as I was packing my bag. ‘I’ll be missing this week’s family dinner.’
“‘I will,’ he said apathetically, not really caring about my dead aunt. ‘When will you be back?’
“‘In two or three days, I believe,’ I said, with my fake tears streaming down my face. ‘I can’t take any more time off work.’
“‘Good,’ he said. ‘Do you have more of those patches?’
“I looked at him with all the dislike I could muster; I had just lost my aunt and all he could think of was drugs. I gave him the one I had with a promise of getting more.
“The plan was running along as planned so why the disruption? As I boarded the plane I was only too aware of the two men following me. They were from the Marullo cartel, they were Francesco’s men. Not the ones he usually called on, but I had definitely seen them before around his family. They were about as stealthy as a trash truck. I let Harlow know about the tail I was carrying; she needed to adjust our plan to make my cover plausible. If I thought my life had changed after I had started at FIA, I was about to learn otherwise.
“‘The brief has changed,’ Harlow said when she met me at the airport back in London. ‘They no longer want Francesco incapacitated. They want him dead.’
“‘Why the change?’ I asked. ‘And where does an order like that come from?’
“‘The order has come from Zurich and they are also the only ones who know who requested it,’ she said. Zurich was where FIA’s headquarters were, London was just a sub-branch. ‘You’ll do fine.’
“‘I know I will,’ I replied, albeit a little sceptical of my own abilities. ‘I’m just questioning the motive for killing someone who should be tried in a court, sentenced and put in prison.’
“‘This happens more often than you know,’ Harlow said calmly. ‘What are you thinking?’
“‘Can’t you tell?’ I asked, looking out into the park, keeping an eye on my tail in the distance.
“‘You know I can’t,’ she replied, putting her arm around me as if to console me. She was acting out the part of my grieving sister for my tail. ‘You are the only one I can’t read.’
“‘Then perhaps it’s best if you don’t know,’ I said, resting my head on her shoulder. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll get it done.’
“My tail followed me everywhere; I could have slipped away from them but it was decided to let them pursue me. Harlow was my pretend sister for my stay back home. She had found a fitting funeral and we faked and acted our way through it, not knowing anyone, but they received us like family. I didn’t often feel in the wrong when I did this job but this was one of those occasions. The next day, early morning before I left for the airport, I went to my supposed dealer to get new supplies. By now it had become obvious that my tail was not a threat. I left my dealer, an undercover FIA agent, and minutes later he had a visit from the Marullo thugs. Their real agenda was quite clearly revealed – they had followed me to get to my supplier, they wanted to make a large order of patches and enquire if it was possible to make other versions. FIA was only too happy to supply their request. This meant a direct connection to the cartel, even if it would only be for a short period. The FIA dealer made sure to keep them entertained for long enough for me to get to the airport and board an earlier plane. I was unsure of myself and I felt nervous; I had lied to Harlow when I told her I could handle it. This was new territory for me in this job. My FIA dealer had supplied me with heroin and needles as well as patches with heroin instead of cocaine. I had two tickets booked for going back to Italy under two different names. Before I got in the taxi I put on a wig, changed my eye colour and put on a pair of glasses, along with an outfit change. I was going back to Rome earlier than what I had told Francesco. And I was going back as someone else. FIA wanted him dead and they wanted it done now.
“I arrived at my little flat in Rome and started to pack the few personal things I had there, leaving other things to indicate I still lived there. I cleaned the entire flat wearing rubber gloves and being careful not to rub up against anything; everything I had touched was wiped down. Then I went back to the airport, stored my things in a different locker another place in the airport and went and got the one with the drugs in it. Still wearing my disguise, I went straight to Francesco’s flat, only removing it once I was in the building. When he opened the door he was clearly surprised at me being there, but he didn’t question it. He kissed me and we had sex. Somehow it didn’t feel strange – it was a job and everything I did was on autopilot.
“‘Did you get any?’ He asked, lighting a cigarette.
“‘Yes, I did,’ I said. ‘And more is coming soon.’
“‘Let’s get a patch then,’ he said. I patched him up but I fitted him with a heroin patch instead of cocaine, which would make him drowsy much quicker. Then I waited.
“‘Do you want a drink?’ he asked.
“‘It’s not even noon,’ I said while getting dressed. I could hear him getting shaky, the bottles and glasses rattling when he picked them up.
“‘This patch is hitting me harder than usual,’ Francesco said.
“‘Really?’ I said. ‘I’m not feeling anything.’
“I walked out into the living room, wearing dark blue jeans, a tight long-sleeved black top tucked into my jeans and my black, flat ankle boots. My hair was pulled back in a tight bun. As I walked over to him I prepared for the final task in my assignment – putting on black latex gloves. I couldn’t have looked more different from the flowery dress-wearing, curly blonde-haired, carefree art student he had met.
“‘What are you wearing?’ He looked at me confused and dazed. ‘You look different. I don’t like it.’
“‘Well, this is how I look usually,’ I replied while I slipped on the last glove. ‘When I am working.’
“‘I’m not feeling so good.’ He dropped the glass he was holding and knocked over a bottle.
“‘Please, let me help you,’ I said calmly. I took him by his arms, sat him in the armchair and brushed his hair away from his face. I started to roll up his shirtsleeve.
“‘Wait, what are you doing?” he asked, trying to resist but drowsy from the heroin. “What do you mean working?’
“‘I am rolling up your sleeve,’ I said. And then I got up to get the drug paraphernalia. ‘So I can give you a little injection. Don’t worry it won’t hurt.’
“‘What?’ He had panic in his eyes but his body didn’t have the power to act on it. ‘I don’t understand.’
“‘No? You are my work. Everything about your family’s business has been my job for several months.’ I started. ‘All those family dinners with delicious food but it all came on the back of someone else, paid for with money made from selling people, drugs and general nastiness. Did you think you could go on like this forever?’
“‘Who are you?’ he stammered. ‘Who are you working for?’
“‘All those questions you should have asked me months ago.’ I smiled at him. It wasn’t easy for me so I dug out the most evil version of myself from within and channelled that. ‘No one. I work for myself and then I am hired for my skills.’
“‘Who hired you then?’ He clearly had hopes that he would get out alive. ‘I can pay you if you let me live. Whatever you want. You know my family is good for it.’
“‘And take your blood money? I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I may get paid for this but I do actually have ethical standards that I adhere to. I’m a superhero looking to destroy all evil, that’s how I choose my cases. And you are evil.’
“‘But you love me,’ he said, trying to make me sympathise with him. His beautiful dark eyes flickered trying to focus on me.
“‘No I don’t, it was all a lie,’ I replied, holding his head up by his chin to look him in the eyes. I really had no feelings for him. ‘I wonder if your mother knows you sell children. No, she doesn’t, does she? No, I definitely don’t think so. Well, that’s interesting. But she does know that the family business is corrupt, so she isn’t good either.
’
“Even when heavily sedated by the heroin, I could read his face like an open book.
“‘Don’t touch her.’ He was struggling to keep his eyes open. ‘They will find you and they will kill you.’
“‘Yes, you are right in one of those statements. They will find me but only to bring dear Abigail the news of her boyfriend’s death.’ I sat on the coffee table with the little vial in one hand and a needle in the other withdrawing the heroin. ‘Don’t worry, I will cry. But you forget one thing, no one is expecting me back until tomorrow.’
“‘Someone will have seen you entering the building.’ He had slumped down in the chair. ‘Or at the airport. There are cameras everywhere.’
“‘Hmm. No.’ I wasn’t worried. Cameras are easy to get around and people aren’t reliable when it comes to witness statements. I stretched out Francesco’s arm, he didn’t fight me. ‘I won’t touch your mother, but your death will break her heart.’
“‘They will find me,’ he whispered, his eyes closed.
“‘Yes, but you don’t have any plans until tonight and by then you will have been dead for several hours with no chance of revival. Life expired.’ I spoke calmly as I aimed at his vein. Considering what I was doing, it was quite easy. ‘Bye, Francesco.’