THE HITMAN

DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

2005-12-03T14:41:00.000-05:00

Spain

Early 2000

I have no attachments. Oh yes, I've sort of "adopted" Victor, and I live with an aging but still vibrant woman, Corazon, but I have no attachments. Don't misunderstand, there is nothing between Corazon and me; I brought her in because I owed her a favor, she took responsibility for Victor when he was younger, and I like her. Certainly I've thought about romance, but that would mean getting attached. I have no attachments.

Which is why it wasn't difficult to do what I had to do. I noticed that some of my files have gone missing. I keep a few files around as insurance, blackmail material against any former employers who might try to eliminate me. Then I caught a glimpse of someone going through the things in my bedroom.

Then one night, while I was in a club in Madrid, there was a woman paying me especially close attention. I was cautious at once. It's a rather exclusive club, yet I'd never seen her before. I let her think I was interested. Unknown to her, I determined that she had a gun in her purse. I recognized it. It was the kind Interpol agents carried around with them. I pretended to be drunk and convinced this woman, Sandra, she called herself, to come back with me. Once I had her on my property, well, she talked. I knew everything. Corazon had been selling my secrets to Interpol for months, and now they wanted to capture me. I told her that was never going to happen.

I called Victor and told him to attend to Sandra, he didn't ask me what was going on. Good man, and indeed he was a man. He trusted me. I went into the house, and found Corazon, reading a book in bed like nothing was wrong.

"So, you've betrayed me?" I asked, seating myself on the edge of the bed.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, getting up and reaching for her bathrobe.

"You know. The stunt with the girl was particularly foolish, even for you. What? Did you think I'd be duped by a pretty face?"

To her credit, she didn't try to pretend any more.

"It seemed to work for everyone else."

With that she pulled a gun from her robe pocket and attempted to fire at me. Except the gun was empty. I had removed the bullets from the gun the day before, when I had caught the glimpse of someone in my room. I wasn't taking any chances.

"Do you know what I do to women who cross me?"

Corazon simply spit at me.

The gun was in my shoulder holster. I didn't hesitate.

At that moment, Victor walked in. He had disposed of the girl without a second thought. Yet the sight of his surrogate mother lying on the floor was too much for him.

He looked at me, hatred in his eyes. He knew what I had done. He knew why. Inside, he knew I had no choice. But that did nothing to cool his anger.

The next day, he was gone. He left a note, thanking me for my help, my training, and my money. He asked that I not pursue him.

I honored that request. Victor is a good man. He is no longer my son. But he will always be my brother.

I have no attachments.

WOMEN

2005-11-29T15:39:00.001-05:00

1998

Bejing, China

I had heard rumors in Paris. Rumors about top members of certain Eastern European governments. Many of them had changed major policies for no apparent reason. Others had disappeared. I knew a girl in Paris, Giselle. She has her hands in many different lines of work, and apart from being a very old acquaintance, she is a very useful source of information. Her apartment had a wonderful view of the entire city. At sunset, it's as if one is standing in the clouds of heaven. Giselle is a magnificent woman. But I digress.... She told me of a secret, almost cultish, group of terrorists. They are comprised of young women from no particular nationality, they dress completely in black, and leave almost no trace. Their assassins could supposedly get access to any of the world's most secure locations. Their leader was mysterious, and no one seemed to know where their base of operations was located.
Giselle suspected that they were located somewhere in old Europe. I trust her instincts.

Now, here I am, staring at one down the barrel of my sniper rifle. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Also one of the most well armed. On her back was a rather large looking Rocket launcher, and in her hands was a sniper rifle rather similar to my own. Victor is beneath us, watching the target up close. Xang Jao-Jah, the largest propment of Chinese dimilitarization in their history, was standing in the courtyard below, giving a speach to the assembled union representatives. He was as close to a revolutionary as the Chinese have ever had since Mao. Saddly, few outside of his own country knew of his existance, and I am here to make sure it stays that way.

Which begged the question, why is she hear? This shadowy, deadly beauty, equally ready as I am to kill in cold blood. To all appearances, my equal. Hm, or is she? The silencer on my rifle won't give away my position. I slowly move my rifle from the floor below, and aim it at the roof tiles directly in front of her. I pull the trigger, and soundlessly, a spark lights up in front of her. She doesn't jump; she doesn't even flinch. She just rolls over, aims her rifle at where the shot originated (me) and fires, hitting the tile in front of my face. I smile. She's good. I look at her through my scope; she winks at me, and aims back at the crowd. Since she's obviously not my enemy, I decide to put down my rifle, and watch what she does. Victor gives me a signal through my earpeice, but I ignor it. Sure enough, the lovely killer fires her weapon, and Xao falls dead. Before I can finish marveling at the precision of her shot, she is gone; no where to be seen.

Giselle was right. These assassins are a very talented breed. Ah Giselle.

2005-10-23T10:03:00.000-04:00

IRAQ

2005-09-24T00:25:00.000-04:00

1991

I slipped past the U.S. recon post into enemy territory. There was a war going on, but I really didn't care. My quarry was a Russian arms dealer by the name of Ratkonekoff. Rat boy as I called him was slippery but selling weapons to Saddaam was his first mistake. Not that I was chasing him down for political reasons, he just happened to spurn the daughter of a high member of the Chinese politburo. Remind me never to make aquaintance with the daughter of a politburo. Regardless, I knew he was at a small air field behind the Iraqi line. I was there in about fifteen minutes. The target was conversing with an Iraqi intelligence officer. Through my nightvision binoculars I could read his lips. Something about Austria and nationalism. It looked like he was talking about a Soviet refugee group setting up in Austria. I'll have to check it out. But right now, my quarry awaits. I could take him out with a sniper rifle shot, but my employer was explicit that it be done at close range. Personally, I never get personal, and I try not to get close. But it was the job.

I don't really get pleasure from killing a faceless person, one who means absolutely nothing to me. So after I eliminated the Russian idiot, I looked about me for some diversion. I figured the Americans wouldn't mind the hand, and it would be an impressive light show, if I detonated some of the fuel canisters near by. I rationalized it as "creating a diversion," but in reality, I was bored. I planted my charges, and was on my way, when a member of the "Battle hardened republican guard" came up behind me. Kenpo and Jutitsu, when coupled together, can make a deadly combination. But while they made short work of the guard, it wasn't long before the entire camp knew I was there. Machine gun fire was everywhere, while everything from "stop" to cursing was being blared over a loudspeaker in Iraqi. Suddenly an Apache helicopter flew by overhead and the ground was strafed with machine gun fire. A small missle made quick work of the fuel canisters I was going to blow up, and an emergency ladder dropped down to me. I grabbed it, and looked up to see Victor.

Victor Craven, my protege, my brother. I don't know if I can claim raising him, but I certainly could make a good case for it. The boy had turned into a young man, and that young man was spraying the camp with machine gun fire. I don't know why the Americans didn't hire us to fight this war for them. The British almost hired me to assassinate Sadaam, but they feared blame might fall on the Mossad. (I have encountered them on occassion as well.)

Victor pulled me into the helicopter, and I saw Corazon at the controls. Corazon had been doing more and more work with us over the years, as the Spanish conflict seemed to be going nowhere. Flecks of gray in her hair, she was still a very attractive woman, and her skin was still unwrinkled; assets we have used in our various opperations. While there was still a certain tension between us, she had become almost a mother to Victor, teaching him things I never could, and giving him defenses to all my weakness; thus giving him weaknesses of his own.

I think too much. Iraq is boring. Perhaps a trip to Paris.

OBSERVING

2005-09-18T22:02:00.000-04:00

LITTLE WOMEN 2

2005-03-20T08:15:00.000-05:00

Well, that was too easy. I couldn't get that kid who got arrested out of my mind. Something about him stirred something in me that I don't experience very often: pity. So I busted him out. We were chased, but I illuded them with ease. Unfortunately the kid doesn't speak a word of english, spanish, french, russian or any other language that know. All he speaks is the tribal tongue from the area in which his parents died. From what I gather, he says his name's Ve-hek-tah-or. I'll have to change that. He's a bit too old to pass for my son, but a younger brother might pass as a suitable cover until I get him back to Basque. Fortunately, he is old enough to appreciate the finer things in life. Once he learns a European language, he should be just as capable as me when it comes to the social warfares.

Just so I can leave South East Asia.

SRI LANKA

2005-02-20T18:59:00.000-05:00

I hate these communist types. I took out an opposition leader for them and all they can do is shoot at me and chase me out of the city. I need to stop working for communists. Since the end of the Reagan administration communists have become less and less trustworthy. I often wonder.... what's that? Hehe, this kid across the street is ripping the tires of a car. Uh-oh, its a police car. Poor kid. Here in Sri Lanka he'll probably die in prison for it. Kid's got guts though.

SMALL VICTORIES

2005-02-15T19:00:00.000-05:00

I've never been afraid of death. The ETA had bigger problems than they thought. After I executed my first assignment I was paid handsomely, but then one of their lower ranking officers offered to pay me to execute his superior. I don't know whether its because I have some sort of moral compunction against betrayal or because I wasn't about to execute the head of the ETA and expect to get away with it, but I said no. Corazon later told me that it had been a test of intelligence. Her superiors had determined that I was an asset to be saved. They provided me with a mansion in a secluded area of their controlled area. It has become my home. I've never had a home, but here I am protected by those who have set themselves in authority. Corazon will bring me assignments from time to time, and i have the freedom to turn them down for any reason I choose. Corazon is a beautiful woman but I sense she could be very dangerous if threatened. It always seems the prettiest flowers have the sharpest thorns. That's nature's wisdom I suppose.

Ah, the door chime. It must be Martha, my maid. She is a very old woman, a grandmother I believe. She comes by about once a week and probably has no idea the type of man she works for. Neither does she ask. She does her job well. I think I will make sure her grandchildren receive an education. There's a good lesson to remember: reward those who serve you well that they may continue to serve you well.

I should take up teaching.

SPAIN

2005-02-14T23:07:00.000-05:00

1989

French Secret Service was stupid enough to let me through their defense net: again. It shouldn't surprise me, but still, I'd appreciate a challenge now and then. I've been contacted by a member of the ETA , named Corazon. She's asked me to take a job for them. Perhaps I will. I don't ussually involve myself with political dissidents, but private hits are getting harder to come by. I suppose for a price, anything is possible.

THOUGHTS

2005-02-14T09:25:00.000-05:00

I look back on my life. I ask myself questions. What you will see on this blog are excerpts from my own personal journal that I've managed to keep locked safely away at my mansion in the Basque region. The cotents of this journal could get me convicted of dozens of crimes in any civilized country in the world. Of course, they hardly need the journal. Read them at your own risk. Perhaps they will cause you to question whether or not your side is worth believing in.