Codename: Blackheart Chapter Four

Once I’ve checked out, I get in a cab and give the driver the address to a private airfield where my jet is patiently waiting. It’s a Gulfstream G550 and she is a beauty. I smile as I see Marcel stepping down from the jet. Marcel is the steward on my jet and has been for the past five years, but he’s practically family. In fact, he often spends holidays with my family.

Marcel is forty-nine with short, limp, dark brown hair fading to grey at the edges. He has a salt and pepper, trimmed beard and soft hazel eyes. Outside of the frown lines on his forehead he only has some slight creasing around the corners of his eyes, but no other wrinkles to be seen. He always dresses sharply and is currently in black slacks, black Armani dress shoes, a black pinstripe shirt and a black tie with a gold diamond pattern in the design. He’s also wearing his usual gold wolf cufflinks. He loves anything to do with wolves, he even owns one as a pet which he named Blade, who is absolutely gorgeous!

I step out of the cab as Marcel walks over smiling at me. “Did everything go well, sweet pea?” he asks me in Romanian. I have missed conversing with people in my mother tongue and am glad to be doing so again.

“A minor hiccup, but I handled it fine. As usual,” I tell him with a cheeky smile. He smiles in turn and gives me a warm hug. I return his hug, breathing in his familiar cologne. He uses just the right amount, so he always smells comforting instead of headache-inducing.

“Get settled on board while I grab your bag,” he instructs while rubbing my arms. I nod and climb up the stairs onto the jet as he turns toward the cab.

I love my jet. Crime really does pay well. The interior of the jet has black carpeting with a golden zig-zag pattern, white seats, and black walls. The cabin itself is about fifty feet by seven feet with a height of about six feet. It seats thirteen people and sleeps eight. There’s a kitchen bar and sink when you enter with black cabinets and a gun metal marble tabletop with a gold sink and faucet. The jet has plenty of seating space from couches to single chairs, tables, and a double bed, and has an exquisite bathroom further down the back.

I walk down and take a seat on the couch to the right, kicking my heels off as I put my feet up. I won’t have too much time to relax since we’re flying straight to Germany. While I was handling this job with Miroslav, I was also doing background on another contract I received. Actually, two contracts, which I’m on my way to handle right now.

Marcel enters the cabin with my suitcase and places it on the bed. “Anything that needs tending to?” he inquires.

“Please see to it that the items inside are destroyed. Not the purse though. I like the purse. And please hand me Crimson, she needs a deep clean.”

“Consider it done. I’ll go grab your cleaning kit. How about something to eat? A sandwich? You need to keep your strength up if you’re going to stay this busy,” he says with avuncular concern. I’m grateful for how much he looks after me. It’s true, I sometimes get so caught up in what I’m doing I forget the simple things like eating and drinking.

“Sandwiches would be great, uncle,” I say with an appreciative smile. He returns my smile with one of his own and gets to work.

As soon as we take off, I get up and walk over to the cabinet opposite the bed, open the drawer and pull out three burner phones, a laptop, and a dossier, then sit down in the single seat behind the bed, placing the items on a small table. As I’m opening my laptop I pick up the first burner phone and speed dial 1. While I’m waiting for it to be picked up, Marcel places a bottle of mineral water and a plate of delicious-looking roast beef sandwiches down and gives me a soft kiss on the top of my head. My mouth is watering and I’m dying to dig in.

“Cleaning kit is behind you,” he informs me in a whisper before sitting down in the single seat closest to the kitchen, putting something on the screen for himself to enjoy. I smile and nod at him in confirmation as the line finally connects, and I begin conversing with the man on the other line in Serbian.

“It’s done. Be sure to destroy the burner I have given you. I’ll be expecting the other half of my payment transferred into my account promptly,” I say impassively as I open the secure banking app on my screen.

“How can I be sure you did it?” asks the voice on the other side of the line in an irritated tone causing my jaw to tick. Zivko Krasiński is a prick who should be careful with how he speaks to me. My contract is complete, which means I can happily turn around and kill him just for kicks and no one would give a crap. The man drove me insane during our initial meeting when he hired me to kill Miroslav to the point I can understand why his partner was ripping him off. But these jobs are not personal to me. You hire me to do a job and I do it. So the fact this guy is questioning me pisses me off.

“If you’re so unsure of my ability to do my job, why did you hire me in the first place?” I ask coldly, a threatening edge to my tone. This fucker needs a reminder of who he’s speaking to. I hear an audible gulp on the other end of the line. Good.

“No disrespect Miss Heart. I just want to be sure he’s dead,” he placates nervously.

“Then call the Square Nine Hotel and ask if they’ve found a dead body. That should clear things up for you. Now I’ve done my part, you do yours. Or would you like to find out what I do to people who renege on a contract?” I question menacingly. The line is quiet for a few moments, but I can hear the sound of fingers flying over a keyboard. I hear a soft chuckle coming from Marcel indicating he’s listening to my call.

“There. I’ve transferred payment to your account per your instructions,” he says, sighing in relief. I watch my computer screen and sure enough, a moment later the payment shows up. Man just saved his ass.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I tell him and hang up. I toss the phone behind me, knowing I’ll be destroying it soon, and take a few bites of my sandwich. Marcel makes the best sandwiches on the planet. I’m so grateful to have someone as loyal as him. Marcel and my father go way back, so I’ve grown up with him. Uncle Marcel was known under the codename Aquarius, the sign of the water bearer since he had an affinity for drowning people. He retired from this life five years ago at the insistence of his wife, Vivienne, but it was hard for him to detach from his old life completely. So he offered to be a steward on my jet and kind of act like an assistant who travels with me for business. He doesn’t always join, which is fine with me, but the company is appreciated sometimes and he’s very helpful.

As I’m eating, I open up the dossier and go over the information I’ve assembled, and a stupid Cheshire cat-size grin spreads across my face. This is going to be fun. Very rarely do I get a contract that takes me by surprise, but safe to say these two contracts I’m about to take care of are incredibly entertaining.

“What are you grinning about?” Marcel asks me in an amused tone.

I look back at him, still smiling, “Just an interesting turn of events on this next one,” I explain with equal amusement in my voice. When it comes to work, I’m cold and methodical. Emotions need to be left at the door. But around those I trust I can be laid back and more myself.

Marcel smiles shaking his head, “You’re going to keep me in suspense I see. I hope you at least plan to fill me in afterwards,” he scolds, a playful lift to his voice.

“You’ll be the first I tell, I promise,” I say sincerely. He gives me a stern nod making me chuckle. Taking both remaining burner phones, I send identical text messages with a time and address of where to meet.