The Inept Assassin
Alyssa looked on at the mysterious young man getting off the train, as he seemed to be ogling her. She stared back with a sultry gaze as if to suggest that she could be available. The young woman was used to such attention from men; she often turned heads as she entered a room. Her petite frame was perfectly proportioned, and her alluring eyes had a come-and-get-me look. In fact, her nickname in high school had been Alluring Alyssa.
The stranger was in his mid-twenties and about her age. His long hair reminded her of someone in a rock band. It wasn’t long before he disappeared into the crowd of holiday travelers. As she daydreamed about how it might be if they would ever end up in bed together, she got distracted by her boss, the depot supervisor, and was sent on an errand.
Alyssa had worked at the train depot for most of the summer and planned to return to the local community college in the fall. She was an average girl with no special skills other than being a quick learner, very intuitive, personable and unusually perceptive. She could generally tell what a person was thinking, and frequently finished strangers’ sentences for them.
Her new task took her over behind the depot’s trash containers, well away from the crowded platform. Her heart raced a bit as the long-haired young man suddenly appeared in front of her. She was expecting him to hit on her, when instead he hit her, revealing a gun with a silencer on it. He looked her in the eye as he punched her hard in the face.
“You hit me!?” she stammered in a startled state of amazement and bewilderment as she fell to the ground. There had been several attacks on local girls lately, so Alyssa had recently taken a rape prevention course offered at the community center.
The malicious character began rifling through her clothes as if he were looking for something in particular. “Where is it?” he asked in an excited manner.
“What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?” she mumbled in her weakened, groggy state.
“Tell me what you’ve done with the Sinclair!” he demanded. His hands began exploring under her clothes.
“Rape!” she attempted to call out as he covered her mouth, muffling her appeal.
He probed every crevice of her body, and then pushed up her blouse. A look of astonishment came over his face as he declared, “Oh my God, where’s your tattoo, Rose? You’re not her!”
Alyssa instinctively employed her rape prevention training as she struggled with the stranger. She wrapped her hand around the weapon as a shot fired; his body went limp on top of hers.
No one had yet noticed her predicament, and the large dumpsters shielded them from view, so she took some time to go through his belongings. Alyssa had a curiosity which occasionally got her into unique situations, and today would be no different as she stuffed his wallet, gun and keys into her jacket’s large pockets. One of her old boyfriends had been a gun buff, occasionally taking her to the firing range. She had come to feel comfortable using one and recognized this one as a Glock. A twinge of excitement came over her as she looked down at the man she had just killed. Her foot pushed up against his side, and she rolled his remains into the nearby retention pond.
Her shift was ending, so without a word to anyone about her scary experience, she went searching for his backpack that she had noticed as he had gotten off the train. She guessed that he had been an amateur, because it had been so easy to take him. The backpack was found nearby and its contents consisted of a passport, a list of addresses including hers, a gun cleaning kit, and a leather pouch. The passport showed his name as Bret Billings. A pang of excitement swept over her as she unzipped the pouch and discovered five bundles of hundred dollar bills! Having grown up in foster care, she had led a life of frugality and had never seen this kind of money before.
As her thoughts drifted back to the attack, she replayed in her mind what the fellow had said. Why had he been so convinced she was someone else? Who was this Rose person? Having never been able to learn anything about her family background while in the foster care system, Alyssa had often fantasized about having a brother or sister somewhere. Now her imagination raced over the possibility of having a twin.
Her next stop was the library. She used one of the public computers to search for any information on Sinclair and on a woman or tattoo called Rose. Nothing of use came up on the latter, but she hit pay dirt on the other. The Sinclair was a large diamond not too dissimilar to the great blue Hope Diamond, and had been stolen from the prominent Sinclair family of Chicago. There were some vague references to the family’s possible mob affiliations. The computer also had information on her new gun; it was an Airsoft Glock 18c, ‘Assassin’ model!
The whole scenario began to greatly intrigue Alyssa. She had no strong ties to the area, and wasn’t all that interested in attending the community college any longer. Her new goal in life would now be to locate her possible long lost twin. She deposited nine thousand dollars of her new-found bankroll into an account with one of the national banks, put thirty thousand into a safe-deposit box, and decided to carry the remaining eleven thousand as traveling money. She had heard that deposits over ten grand attract federal attention and preferred to avoid that. Her new ATM card could come in handy for emergencies, but she felt it best not to use it, figuring it could reveal her whereabouts to whomever might be pursuing this Rose woman. Because her address had been on Bret’s list, Alyssa promptly terminated her lease. She put her important things into a small storage bin, then either gave away or threw away the rest. Her next stop would be Chicago.
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