Monday, August 19, 2013


It was over. After all these years. The execution had been finally carried out and he could relax and let life get back to normal. He had sat glued to the television and didn't really believe it until he saw the video clip of the hearse pulling out of the prison.
Tim had been true to his word. He never rolled over and snitched on him.
It had been a chance meeting. The two had met at a gun show in Michigan and had haggled over the price of a Russian combat knife. One thing had led to another and they had wound up at a local bar, slamming down pitchers of draft and talking about mutual interests. Guns, the Army, the Gulf War, how the government was fucked.
They had stayed in touch after that, and about a year later Tim had gotten hold of him while he was down at Ft Bragg. He had a proposition for him. Tim had met a guy who needed hard to get items. Automatic weapons. M16s. Tim's contact would pay top dollar on delivery.
It had been almost too easy. He had cased a small town National Guard unit for a week. An infantry unit. He had walked in the office wearing his cammos with all the patches and the armory sergeant had almost shit all over himself listening to his stories of the Gulf and airborne training. 
After two cups of coffee he had talked the young sergeant into letting him take a look at the armory's gun vault. Once he was inside and had seen what he wanted, he had shot the young man in the back of the head. He drove away from the armory with eighty brand new M16s and twenty 9MMs. When he delivered the weapons to Tim he had been paid with a wad of cash as big as a baseball.
Two weeks later a Federal building in Oklahoma City blew up and Tim was all over the news.


The Green Beret was no fool. You couldn't do the shit he had done in his life and be an idiot. But he could not believe that a woman this gorgeous would ever be sitting across a table from him. She was blonde, beautiful, and built like a brick shithouse. Really built, almost like she pumped iron.
When he saw her staring across the bar at him, he actually had turned around and looked behind him. He couldn't understand why she was looking at him. He was in good shape. Had to be in his line of work. But he had to admit that he was not what most woman would consider good looking. He was balding, had horrible acne scars from childhood, and a slight hair-lip.
She had walked over and asked if that seat had been taken. They had been talking for almost three hours and drinking like it was their last night on earth. Iced vodka. It wasn't his normal drink of choice, he was normally a beer man, but it was her choice and that was AOK with him. But fuck! She could drink it like a longshoreman. He was getting awfully fucked up. But not so fucked up that when she asked him if he had ever killed a man that he let the cat out of the bag. He had just acted coy and gave her a sly wink.
He had killed a man. Actually, he had killed fourteen men. Three ragheads during the Gulf war, ten government contract hits, and the armory sergeant. 
That had rubbed him the wrong way, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. The money was good and he didn't have much choice in the matter anymore. He tried to make himself feel better by rationalizing that he wouldn't have done it if he had known what Tim had been planning. 
"Let's go up to my room."
That got his attention back.
"Yes, mam." He tried not to stagger as he stood up.
As soon as they walked into her room she pulled her dress up over head, revealing that she was wearing nothing but black nylons and a matching garter belt. Shit, she was even wearing high heels. Just like a Penthouse magazine model.
"I've got some great coke." She smiled at him.
"I don't do drugs. Piss tests and all."
"I only fuck men who do coke with me. It makes it better."
"OK." He didn't care if she wanted him to smoke her tampon, he couldn't let this opportunity pass. Piss test or not.
She gave him a smile. "Take off your clothes while I get it ready."
He pulled off his clothes and even though he was totally shitfaced, his cock was as hard as a glass cutter.
She had pulled out a silver vial and cut four long lines on a mirror for them with a razor blade. She handed the mirror and a rolled up fifty dollar bill to him.
"You first. Just plug one nostril and inhale the line. One for each side."
He snorted up both lines like a good soldier. The effect was immediate. The room began to spin and his whole body felt like rubber. He felt a rush to vomit but when he stood up his legs gave out and he crashed head first into the wall. He barely could make out the woman getting dressed and walking by him.
"Where? Where are you going?" It sounded like he was talking in a tunnel. He heard the television come on. All he could see was her stiletto heels until she squatted down and her face came into his field of vision.
"You are a tough guy, aren't you? You just snorted up two lines of absolute pure China White heroin."
Her face disappeared from the tunnel and when it reappeared she had a pistol and was fitting a silencer on to it's barrel. 
She looked back down at him. "I'm sorry. I am really am. But you're a pro and I'm a pro and business is business."
Her face disappeared again and he could feel the silencer sliding up his anus. He struggled to look up at her. She was flashing that smile again.
"They don't want anyone to ask any questions. If I do it like this the cops can blame it on the Mob and no one will be the wiser."
She fired off four quick rounds, wiped the gun and silencer off with a towel, and slipped it into her purse. Before she stepped out the door she gave the room another quick glance to see if she had covered her tracks.
The news was on the television. The hearse was pulling out of the penitentiary again.