It was 1997.
I was 19 years old and on a train making my way downtown. I was exremely nervous and excited because I finally had the opportunity to help my mentor, Bunchy. He was in trouble and I was in a position to not only help him, but prove my worth and usefulness to the shadowy Russian syndicate he worked for. I thought back to last week, when I went to his house. It looked like he left the apartment in a rush. He had taken only some of his valuables. I knew this because not only did I have a spare key
to the front door, I also had one to his safe, in case of emergency. Bunchy knew he could trust me, so I didn't understand why he would up and leave like this without letting me know something.
Now granted, he is a grown man, who often went away on "business trips" for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Being a contract killer made for a itinerant lifestyle and while he was training me in the art of being a hit man, he told me to never make my movements predictable. That's why I would have normally chalked this up to nothing extraordinary until I saw he left his special pager and new Russian sniper rifle behind in the safe. I also saw that the same number had been paging him over and over with the 911 code behind it. I knew that was the number to his contact, so that was a little cause for concern. The pager suddenly died in my hand as I was going through the numbers, so I searched around the house until I found some new batteries to replace the old ones.
Because I talked to the contact a couple times and even met him once before, I thought it might be ok to call him. The raspy voiced old Russian was a former Spetsnaz special forces operator, so I knew he was nobody to be fucked with.
The one time I met him he was bringing Bunchy a gift, a VSS Vintorez assault rifle equipped with old school iron sights and a built in suppressor. He had taken it out of the sleek compact briefcase it came in and piece by piece showed Bunchy how to put it together. He also had a box of heavy subsonic 9x39mm SP-6 cartridges with blue tip armor piercing bullets.
What was also memorable about that day was that the old Russian had brought along his daughter, Natasha, who had remained in the car. She was a striking young woman with dreamy eyes and pouty lips. She oozed innocence and sex appeal at the same damn time.
I glanced over at Bunchy to see if he might have had the same tingling in his loins that I had. I was shocked to see not lust, but fascination and infatuation.
"Is that your daughter? Man, she's beautiful!"
said Bunchy, as he made eye contact wth the stunning beauty.
Suddenly, the old Russian grabbed Bunchy's wrist and hissed barely above a whisper something to Bunchy in Russian that ended with "Blacky!" the usually humorous nickname he gave him because of the difficulty the old Russian had pronouncing "Bunchy."
This time though, there seemed to be an underlying message in the way he said that word. My eyes literally started stinging from the tension that was in the air. As the two men locked eyes for a few moments, Bunchy finally dropped his gaze and mumbled what I assumed was an apology in Russian.
"Besides," said the old Russian, once again returning to the jovial mood he was in before Bunchy's violation.
"She marry son of very important man in Russia next month. Now, tell me, how's it feels to be the only chernaya persona in the world to own VSS Vintorez!"
He punctuated the exclamation with a hearty laugh and a playful slap to Bunchy's clean shavened face.
A little after the old Russian left, Bunchy and I headed to the outdoor range to practice with his new toy. I asked him what did the old man say to him in Russian. I knew Bunchy was almost fluent in five different languages, but I knew he had just started learning Russian not too long ago. He shrugged, "He said something like, stay away from her, she not for you....."
"Blacky," I finished with a laugh. "He said that name a little different that time."
"Yeah well, the way she returned my stare, he better make sure I don't run into her again," he said with a far off look in his eyes.
"Oh yeah," I said, curiosity getting the best of me, "What does chernaya persona mean?"
Bunchy thought for a minute and said, "Not sure. Black person.... or nigger!" We both laughed knowing how very true that could be.
"Now, enough with the questions. Adjust your sights and hit the target this time!"
I smiled to myself as I thought of that day. My daydream was abrutly cut short by the sudden vibration of the pager. It was the number of the Russian, and I immediately ran to the nearest pay phone to call the number back. The other line picked up on the first ring.
"Leo?" asked the raspy voice that I recognized as the old Russian's.
A little startled, I answered, "Yeah, this is him."
"Good. Blacky is in trouble. He was locked up a couple days ago with an attempted murder charge of a high official. His bail is quarter million dollars."
"WHAT!? HOW!?" I interuppted, totally confused.
"No time to explain. I have client willing to pay top dollar for job. You have necessary tools to fullfill contract, no?"
"Uh, yeah, but..."
"Good. We will need funds to help pay bail. Your mark will be gentleman with full beard and mustache, usually wearing white baseball cap. We have 24 hour surveillence on him so we're tracking his every move. Call this number back in half and hour and someone will give you location of hotel and room number you will go to."
As the train pulled up to my stop, I readied my mind to complete my first contract killing. It wouldn't be the first life I snuffed out, but it would be the first I did for money. I caught a cab to the hotel where the front desk had a key for me. I used an alias to get the key and I was wearing a diguise with lifts in my shoes that made me appear 2 inches taller. When I got to the room and opened the door, the first thing I saw was a piece of paper with instructions for me on it.
It said I would see my quarry with or without a female companion around 5 oclock entering his hotel room across the street. It also said harm to the female companion or any other collateral damage would not be tolerated. I carefully put the sniper rifle together and loaded it with the lethal blue hollow tip bullets. It was a cold winter day and by 5 oclock it was already dark. I sat by the open window with the rifle at the ready and my eyes watering up from the cold.
At about ten minutes after five o'clock, I saw a couple with matching blue down goose coats, step out a taxi and walk huddled together towards the hotel entrance. The young bearded man had on the white hat I was told about. My eyes started to water something awful, so I had no choice but to grab the bottom of my shirt and quickly wipe the excess moisture from my eyes. By the time I looked back up, they had already entered the building. I trained the rifle on the window of the room I knew they would be entering into momentarily. I knew I blew my best opportunity, so I hoped I would get one more chance with Mr White Hat.
Sure enough, a couple minutes later, I saw the light come on and saw the white hat move towards the window. My eyes were watering up again, and through blurred vision, I took the shot and prayed I hit my target. I was sure this would be my last shot, literally. I wiped my eyes and looked through the binoculars I had beside me, to confirm my kill. To my utter horror, I saw the crumbled human form on the floor was a female! Worse still, when I zeoroed in on her face, she looked. Like....
Natasha!!
She must've put the hat on before they walked in the room!
I knew I fucked up, but I figured I better finish the job, so I turned the weapon on to my intended target. The bearded man, who cradled Natasha's lifeless body in his arms, looked up out through the window, seemingly staring right at me. He looked down into his free hand where he was holding the bullet fragments. I looked at the pieces of blue and gold in his hand and was momentarily paralyzed.
I zerored back onto his face as he slowly laid the body on the floor and stood up. For a second, I thought he was staring back at me, even though I knew it was too far away a distance for him to make out who I was. Suddendly, he ripped off the fake beard and mustache.
Bunchy?!!
