My assigned target was Mr. Torn. He was in his fifties and married with two young daughters. Torn was a hedge fund boss and he'd expropriated significant numbers from his clients' funds. The missing billions had been wired into fat offshore bank accounts in the names of his wife and daughters. The whole thing irked me.
I began my surveillance. He kept his laptop with him in a briefcase, and he went to the same bar every Friday night. I watched from across the street as he left the bar week after week with a different young brunette each time. It wasn't my concern, but knowing that made my job much easier. My real concern was that the money he'd squirreled away in those offshore tax havens didn't belong to him.
* * *
I was finally ready to catch my prey. A few of the girls he'd left the bar with were wearing yellow, but there were no yellow dresses or accessories in my wardrobe. Yellow reminded me of vomit.
I did my make up, covered the crescent scar on my abdomen with concealer, and put my brown hair up in a sexy, loose bun. I wore French lingerie and stockings under my red cocktail dress, and I secured a black belt around my waist to offset the red and highlight my hourglass shape. I slipped my tiny feet into the blood-red platform stilettos that matched my dress.
I did a last check in the mirror before I left my apartment. A woman's got to look perfect to catch her man.
I hailed a taxi and went to Torn's Friday night haunt. Then I positioned myself at the bar and waited. I knew it wouldn't be long before he slithered up to me.
"Hey you seeexxxy hottieee," the money man slurred. "May I get you a driiink?"
"Sure, that would be nice."
I turned and flashed him a fake smile. His shifty face made him look like a shrewd snake, and his voice made me want to puncture his long neck with one of my stilettos. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have wasted a minute talking to him.
"How about a glaaasss of red wine?" he asked.
"Merlot, please."
The man had some class, but still, he was a thief who'd siphoned the hard-earned pensions of ordinary working people into his own pockets. He looked me up and down. His green eyes highlighted the sinister undertones of his classy guy façade.
"Veeery goood." He sat down on the barstool next to me and waved to the bartender. "Two glasses of Merlot. Sooo, what brings a seeexxxy girl like you here?"
"I'm new to the city, just checking out the bars."
"Manhattaaan is the place to beee." He sipped his wine. "Just loook aroound. It's the center of the worllld. There's money to be made on eeevery corner. You picked the right city to beee in."
"Perhaps, but I've noticed that there's a lot of homelessness ... and poverty."
"That's because they're the looosers at the bottom. This city is meant for winners." He flicked out his tongue and licked his lips. "Only wiiinners make it in the Biiig Aaapple."
"True." I remembered my younger days, sleeping in the subway like a pathetic sewer rat, almost starving to death. "We're all seeking the high life here."
After a couple more of glasses of Merlot, he was sloshed.
"Leeet's you and meee head somewhere else," he said, putting a cold hand on my shoulder. "You are increeedibly seeexxxy with that hourglass body of yours ... in that red dressss."
"Sure, why not? I have nowhere else to be."
"I'll keep you warm." He slid off his barstool and wrapped his arm around my waist. Then he zigzagged his way to the door and opened it for me.
I wondered if he was scheming to coil me up in his slimy body and I smiled to myself. He didn't have a clue.
He hailed a taxi and I suggested the hotel. The receptionist handed me the key with an approving smile.
We took the elevator up to the special suite that I'd used before. The moment we stepped inside, he stripped off his clothes and threw himself on the bed.
"Now, let the games begin," I said, feeling for the knife in the sole of my shoe.
"Bruuunettes and red ... simply hot, hot, hot," he hissed.
I lifted my red dress to reveal my slender thighs and black garter belt. Then I tantalizingly peeled the straps of my dress off my shoulders.
He was perched on his elbows, leering at me. The tip of his tongue appeared between his teeth, as if he was using it to pick up my scent.
With the top of my dress hanging down from my waist, I turned around very slowly and showed him my tattoo.
"A red ... hourglasss." He stared at me for a moment. His eyes went wide and he miraculously sobered up. "That's the mark of a black widow spider."
"Yes, it is." I grinned and bent down to take the blood-red switchblade from the secret compartment in the sole of my shoe. I flicked it open and the blade glistened as it reflected my pearly white smile.
He frantically leapt off the bed and bobbled to the door. He tried the knob a few times, but it was locked. When he turned around to look at me the panic in his eyes was unmistakable.
"It won't open without the key." I dangled the silver key between my fingers as I walked toward him, smiling. "Why don't you come and get it?"
He began quivering and grasping at the doorknob with both hands.
"You sly snake," I said as I grabbed him by the hair and yanked his greasy head back. I lightly drew my blade across his exposed neck. It was titillating. I wanted to lick the fear exuding from him.
"Please ... don't kill me," he groveled. "What do you want? What do you want me to do?"
"Everything I tell you to," I whispered as I bit his earlobe. Yummy. "Get in the bathtub or I'll slice my blade across that neck of yours."
I took the metal handcuffs from my clutch as he got to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. He climbed into the tub and I forced him to his knees.
"Turn around and face the wall you disgusting thief," I said as I shoved his forehead into the tiles. I pressed my blade into his neck and cuffed his wrists behind his back. "First, you're going to give me your offshore account numbers and passwords ... ALL OF THEM!" I ran my blade down his trembling spine and put the stopper in the drain. "Then, you're going to tell me where the accounts are. If I don't like what I hear, I'll open your throat and you'll bleed to death." I dragged my blade back up his spine, resting it at the base of his skull. "And don't even think of screaming. Got it?"
"Ye ... ye ... yes."
"Good. Just give me what I need, and everything will be fine."
After I got all the information about the offshore accounts, I turned him around and began interrogating him about his despicable behavior. Whenever he gave me an answer I didn't want to hear, I made little cuts and pokes in his skin. Thin lines of bright red blood were trickling from the wounds all over his chest and arms. I enjoyed torturing him-and making him kneel in his own blood and piss.
"Please ... please stop!" he begged. "We couldn't meet the bills ... I had no choice. I had to take the money."
"You're a LIAR!" I yelled, thrusting my blade toward his eyes.
"Okay, okay. I'll give you everything I have ... just let me live. I have more ... a lot more than what's in those offshore accounts. You can't kill me. I have a wife and two daughters ... they need me."
"Really? And does your wife know about your Friday night brunettes you pig?" I laughed and cut an X into his chest. His begging was futile but amusing. "Well, tell me how to get my hands on your other assets and I'll let you go home to your loved ones."
Between pleading for mercy and begging for his life, he began spouting off assets and investment accounts that were of no interest to me. The white bathtub was a dripping red mess as he squirmed and squawked. I was getting sick of hearing his pathetic pleas and pitiful screams.
"That's enough you filthy snake. Shut up!" I turned him toward the wall and gouged my blade into his right wrist with a hard twist. He screamed and I slammed the blade into his other wrist with another full twist. Blood was spurting out like two mini red waterfalls.
He began screaming nonstop. Echoes of screams from my previous targets raced through my mind. I knew he'd soon lose consciousness.
"I don't want to die! Don't want to die!" he shrieked as his blood pooled in the bottom of the tub.
The White Queen's instructions were clear. She'd hand all the information I retrieved over to the police. I used his laptop to test the passwords on the offshore accounts. They worked. I had everything now, and I wrote it all down on a piece of paper. Mission accomplished.
I shut the bathroom door and tuned the stereo to the classical station. I danced around in a reverie as divine music filled the room and my target's screams turned into quiet whimpers. I was floating off into the bliss of the heavens-where I was with my mother once again.
When I knew he was dead, I got my phone out of my clutch and called Vanus.
"It's done."