Chapter 1
RILEY
Riley awoke to the feeling of Matt kissing her on the back of the shoulder. It was early morning, with rays of soft, white light streaming through the sheer curtains casting the room in a heavenly glow. It was going to be a great day. Rolling over, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.
“Mmm, good morning” Her husband said with a dazzling smile.
“Good morning” She said, smiling back.
Staring into his deep blue eyes, memories of their wedding day flashed through her mind. It had been an absolutely stunning day. Ceremony on a white sandy beach. Matt, looking very handsome in a white dress shirt and tan pants, with his light brown hair and classic good looks; and her dress was a beautiful strapless, champagne extravaganza with a train and covered in lace. To hell with a traditional white dress. The reception was held at an exclusive restaurant. It was the perfect day.
“I have something for you” Matt whispered as he rose from the bed.
“Do you now?” He had a cheeky grin. What is he up to?
She watched him disappear into the walk-in robe and reappear with a silk waistband from one her bath robes.
“I can’t have you spoiling the surprise” His excitement was palpable as he gently placed the soft fabric over her eyes and tied it behind her head.
Riley startled awake, sat up in her bed and looked around the bedroom of her ridiculously overpriced, but impressive condo. It was just a dream. A memory, from what felt like a lifetime ago. Like every morning, she awoke before dawn. Who needs an alarm when you barely sleep to begin with.
Slowly, she turned to sit on the edge of the bed and her eyes caught sight of the spectacular sunrise. Beautiful, she thought with a small, sad smile. Watching the sunrise hadn’t been the same since Matt had died a few years ago, leaving her alone. They hadn’t had any children because neither of them were willing to give up their jobs just yet.
There hadn’t been any serious relationships since then. Sure, there’d been a few random men from time to time but none worth taking home to meet her parents, so to speak. They were simply a means to an end. To satisfy her urges, that’s all. She wasn’t looking for another husband.
Glancing at her watch, the time urged her to get ready. Shit. I need to leave. She stood and made her way through the large walk-in robe to the immaculately pristine bathroom. Walking to the marble vanity, she turned on the faucet, leant over and cupped her hands under the icy water, splashing her face. Straightening, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Staring back at her were blue eyes the colour of a glacial river, strong defined cheekbones, lips that were on the plumper side of ‘average’, a strong but not afeminine nose, set on an oval face framed by long, black hair that almost reached her waist.
Riley quickly combed her hair, sweeping it up into a neat pony tail. Walking back out to her wardrobe, she took a black suit, a white blouse, black heels and her shoulder holster out of the wardrobe and got dressed. Retrieving her cell phone and credit card from the bedside table, her experienced hands hid them away in a hidden pocket inside her blazer. Then, she opened the safe, hidden away in her bedside table. Inside was her pistol, a Sig Sauer P228. She removed it from the safe, ejected the magazine to check that it was full. Then indexed the tip of the first round, inserted the magazine and racked the slide jacking a round into the chamber in one fluid motion. Thumbing the safety, she then holstered it inside her jacket under her left arm. After locking the safe, she stood and left the bedroom.
Walking through the kitchen and quickly grabbing herself a breakfast bar, she heads to the elevator. 37 floors down, Nigel, the concierge, greets her.
“Good morning, Ms Johnson”, he says with a warm smile. Nigel has been behind the desk since long before she moved in. He is an older gentleman, around 60, with grey hair and a soft, approachable face.
“Good morning, Nigel. How are you?”, Riley asked, returning his smile.
“Getting old”, he said with a laugh.
“Don’t be silly, Nigel. You still have plenty of life left”
“I hope so, Ms Johnson. You have a great day”, he replies as Riley walks towards the front door.
“You, too. See you tonight”, she says as she walks out the large glass doors.
Upon exiting the building, a stunning matte black Aston Martin Vanquish rolled to a stop in front of her. The driver, a valet, got out of the driver’s seat and handed her the keys.
“Your car, Ms Johnson”
“Thank you”, she said, pressing a 50 dollar note into his hand. Life tip; tipping generously always ensures top quality service. And what’s 50 dollars to someone like her anyway.
Sliding gracefully behind the wheel and closing the door behind her, the keys are turned and the engine roars to life once again. Shifting the car into gear, she sped off.
Her eyes flick to the time displayed on the dash. 0730. Still plenty of time before her meeting but leaving early in a city like this was essential. Less traffic to deal with that way. She knew it would take 15 minutes to arrive at the meeting spot and that she wasn’t due until 0830. Time for a coffee.
Right on time, the Aston Martin pulled up outside the coffee shop. This is her regular stop when she’s home. Best coffee in the area. As she entered the cafe, the barista spotted her. His eyes widening as they droped down to look at her chest, if only for a second.
“Ah” he clears his throat, “The usual, Ms Johnson?” He squeaks.
“Yes please” she said, giving him a small seductive smile and sat down at her usual table at the far end of the cafe, well out of view from the street or surrounding buildings. While the skilled barista made her coffee, she surveyed the room and the people around her, evaluating every detail. 22 people in the shop. The barista is left handed. The guy sitting across the room is 6’2” and 220lbs. There’s a bulge in the small of a man’s back standing in line. Concealed carry, small pistol, she thinks, immediately recognising the shape. Glock 17, 9mm, 17 in the mag, 1 in the chamber. Nothing out of the ordinary. The cafe is small and despite being busy, her coffee is brought to her table within minutes.
“H-here you are, M-Ms Johnson”, the young man stutters.
“Thank you”, locking eyes with him, she took her coffee, making sure to brush her hand against his ever so slightly. His breathe caught a little before he turned and hurried back behind the counter. She smiled to herself knowing full well the affect she had on men, especially men like him, and she had grown to enjoy it.
Sitting, drinking her coffee, she continued to observe the room. After some time, a familiar man entered the cafe. He was dressed in a cheap navy suit that didn’t fit very well. Too tight in some areas, too loose in others. He wore far too much cologne. He glanced around the cafe and spotted her. Giving her a curt nod, he sauntered up to her and sat down on the opposite side of the table.
“Good morning, Riley”, he greeted her with a smarmy smile.
“What do you have for me, Robert?”, she didn’t particularly like her handler. He was just so arrogant.
“A new target”. The man slid an A4 envelope across the table, a single word, hand written on the front. Judith. She internally rolled her eyes. She’d always hated that damned codename. Ever since they assigned her with it back when she was first recruited. They had approached her not long after her husband had died, promising retribution. They had told her that if she joined them, they would help her hunt down his killer and let her have her way with him. Being a federal agent, they figured she already had some of the skills required, and now that she had nothing left to lose, they could use her. She accepted their proposal and began her training. Among it all were new fighting styles and honing her already proficient skills with weapons. It didn’t take long before rising to the top of the academy and becoming a lethal killer. When her new skill set was mastered, they gave her a codename and set her back upon the world.
“Judith?”, she had asked her superior when he had given it to her.
“Yes, it’s quite fitting really. It comes from the bible. She’s a fascinating example of a historical female assassin who believed that God would save her fellow countrymen from their conquerors. She set out to kill an enemy General and brought back his head. The act saved her country.”
Stupid, but fitting. I suppose, had been her thought at the time.
Mentally shaking herself, Riley blocked out the memory and opened the envelope. Inside, there was a photograph of a rather good looking man. What a shame.
“What’s his story?”, she asked while looking through the paperwork.
“He’s ex-Delta Force. He was part of a black ops, counter terrorism group. They were getting close to their target when this man turned and killed his whole team. We believe he has joined the terrorists. So we need you to track him down, gain his trust, get him to tell you everything he knows about the terrorists he’s been working with and then eliminate him”, Robert explained.
“Oh Robert, I thought you would’ve had a challenge for me this time. I’m a little disappointed.” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue as she spoke.
“Sorry Riley. Just another boring one for you. Are you in?”
With a small nod, she stood and exited the cafe. A new mission in her hands, her body sizzled delightfully with excitement. Funny. When did I start relying on this for fun? Oh well.
Back at the condo, all the necessary things were packed neatly into a suitcase. Clothes, some for grabbing attention and some for hiding from it. She didn’t pack any weapons. Too hard to get through the airport unnoticed. Besides, the operatives would have what she needed by the time she arrived. Time to go. After securing the Aston Martin safely back in the garage of the building and saying her farewells to Nigel, Riley found herself sitting in the backseat of a cab on her way to the airport.
She hadn’t even gotten through security yet, when her phone chimed. New message. Looking at the text, there was no number attached. It read:
“Judith,
Just received fresh intel for a target of opportunity (picture attached). He will be on your flight. Have arranged to seat next to you. All necessary equipment can be found in the 3rd stall of the women’s bathroom by your departure gate.
Good luck.”
Clearing security, she made her way to the dead drop. Inside the toilet stall, she found a large sealed plastic bag concealed under the tank cover of the toilet. Opening it, there was a blonde wig, an ornate pearl ring, brown contact lenses and a grey suit. Curious, she looked over the ring. The pearl screwed out and inside was a tiny hyper dermic needle with a little rubber bladder the size of a pea positioned underneath. With a light punch the needle would be forced back into the bladder injecting its contents. It was full of transparent liquid. Interesting. The ring was put back together and she unfolded a small piece of paper. In neat upper case handwriting it read
25mg EPINEPHRINE
Smart! She thought, remembering the picture of her new, last minute target. He was a fat guy. Probably on the verge of a heart attack anyway. A normal hospital dosage of epinephrine was about 0.3mg for anaphylaxis and 0.5-1mg usually administered after a heart attack. 25mg was more than enough to stop his heart. And if by some miracle he made it to the hospital, they would top him up and finish him off for her. That was typical heart attack procedure.
She slipped the new cloths over the top of her current outfit. Careful fingers slid the brown contact lenses in place. Tying her hair back, the blonde wig was placed over her black hair.
She glanced in the mirror as the toilet door swung open, she didn’t even recognise herself. Once the deed was done, she would depart the plane and disappear into the toilets to transform into herself again. A chameleon. By that time, the flight crew would have realised the fat man was dead. The description they would give to authorities for persons of interest that may have witnessed the event would be, a blonde woman with brown eyes in the grey suit. Meanwhile black haired, blue eyed Riley in the black suit would slip right through.
Her mind darted back to the task at hand.
Fuck I hate flying.
