Ellen, "Can we dip down to New Orleans? Have some good food, screw around in the French Quarter?"
Katya is fiddling with her phone, "Twelve hours to New Orleans, it's already noon. Up all night and busy this morning. We will go to Tallahassee, about halfway. Tonight a simple room, Hampton or Embassy, New Orleans a suite in good hotel."
She surfs for recommendations.
Ellen, "It isn't right in the Quarter, just across Canal Street, I've always heard the Windsor Court is a great place, five star thing."
Katya doesn't bother with Hampton reservations, they'll find one with an available room. She calls the Windsor Court and books two nights in a club level suite.
"I see hotel website, looks nice, big room, view of city, private club bar, good restaurant. Harrah's Casino in the same block. We have never been to a casino, we will see, maybe better to go jazz club. Casino is everywhere and we do not anyway gamble."
They check in a Hampton, tired, hang the do not disturb, shut the curtains and crash. Leave in the morning at eight for the six hours to New Orleans.
Arrive at the Windsor Court at two, room is ready, valet makes the Escalade disappear, they take the small bit of luggage, bellman takes, unknown to him, boxed up money and packed away guns to the room. If he knew what he was carting it would make his job more interesting. They'll chance it that the stuff will be okay, it's a five star hotel, not an off the freeway Hampton. And it's better than leaving it in a hotel parking garage.
Katya, "Tip the housekeeper ten bucks every day to swap out towels. Then put the do not disturb on the door when we go out. We do not need sheets changed for two nights only."
Ellen, "I'll take care of it. Ready? Let's hit the streets."
They walk down Decatur to Jackson Square, buy three beers, walk across to the Moonwalk, sit and check out the Mississippi rolling by.
Katja, "I am never een city where you can walk down street wiz beer."
Ellen, "You can walk down the street with a large vodka in a plastic cup, it's perfectly legal."
Katya looks around, "All kinds of people come here."
"Yep, it's a tourist town, basically the whole economy."
Katja reads a sign, "What ees beignet?"
"Like a donut, fried dough with powdered sugar, come on, let's try one."
Even mid-week, the open air coffee shop is packed, there's a short line but they're seated in ten minutes. Ellen orders for them.
Katya, "Coffee is good, strong."
"Half coffee and chicory, half boiled milk, what about the beignets?"
Katja, "Hot, really good, such a seemple thing. Should we make at Katya Donut?"
Ellen, "I don't think so. They have a real short shelf life. You really should eat them fresh out of the fryer. Your donuts are more upscale and it's hard to get premium prices for beignets."
Katja, "Then we will not haf. We can come to New Orleans and eat fried bread."
French Quarter's a walking place, they go up and down on each street from Esplanade to Canal, wind up on Bourbon Street. It's still early, six thirty, a weekday, but the street is already filling with gawkers and partiers.
Ellen, "My granny used to talk about Pat O'Brien's and there it is. Let's see what it's all about."
There's a small, dark indoor bar to the left, a bigger piano bar to the right, then the hall opens to the courtyard. Better, outdoors, a pleasant evening, they find an open table.
Waiter comes over, "What'll it be ladies?"
Ellen, "Three double vodka rocks, dash of bitters in two," too much to hope for Russian Standard, she settles for Stoli.
He goes off, returns in a minute with the drinks. Ellen hands him fifty, the tab is thirty six, drinks are generous doubles.
He lays out fourteen, Ellen gives him ten, "Don't be a stranger."
"I'll keep an eye out, enjoy ladies."
Katya is surfing restaurant options on her phone, "Galatoire has good ratings, up Bourbon Street, no reservation."
Ellen, "I've heard about it, been open a million years."
Katja, "We will go, one more round first, nice out tonight, this place ees busy, relax at the same time."
"Guess it's called the Big Easy for a reason."
Ellen is sensitive to the twins, something with Katya, less serious, a comfortable vibe she usually only has when they are home on a do nothing Sunday.
Waiter shows up with their drinks, Ellen says, "Last round for us, be getting along to dinner in a bit."
"Where ya headed?"
"We heard Galatoire's is good."
"Excellent choice, totally reliable. You like fish? Freshest fish in the world, ever eat turtle soup?"
"Get some, let 'em add a shot of sherry wine. Shrimp Remoulade or crab salad appetizers. Bread pudding for dessert. You gonna love it."
"Thanks for the suggestions."
He wanders off, they chill into the second cocktail, Katya has the menu up, "Looks good, also seafood gumbo."
And it is. They try his suggestions plus gumbo, accompanied by a bottle of champagne. By the time it's dessert, they can only share a single bread pudding.
Katja, "That was best dinner een restaurant ever. You will make seafood gumbo at home, feesh amandine, remoulade shreemp also."
"I can do that honey, I got dozens of fresh techniques to try out from school, I am so glad you thought of cooking class. When we get home, I gotta get a whole new collection of pots and pans, upgrade all the knives. I think we need to put in a second stove, maybe with a grill. I need more oven space. Kitchen's pretty full now though, maybe we expand."
Even wonderful dinners have to end, time to go. Girls aren't in the mood for bars or dance clubs, certainly not strip joints. They return to the hotel. Time for showers, hair air dries on the balcony with a nightcap. The twins treat Ellen to a double tongue orgasm, after which they collapse in the big luscious bed.
Sleep in, skip breakfast, after coffee for Ellen and black tea for the twins, they head out at ten.
"What ees trolley car?"
Ellen, "Been a New Orleans thing forever, let's ride it. Doesn't matter where it goes, we just go to the end and come back."
Climb aboard, pay the fare and down St. Charles Avenue they go.
Ellen, "Nice houses, old time style, Oak trees everywhere. Look, Tulane University right next to Loyola. Must be fun to go to college in a party town like New Orleans."
End of the line, they transfer to a returning street car. The route is about forty five minutes each way, back on Canal by noon.
Ellen, "Gettin' hungry? Or wait for a while?"
"We will walk and see," Katya is studying her phone, "Good restaurant down Magazine Street, Bon Ton Cafe."
It's busy at lunch time, but they get a table in the corner. The menu is extensive and primarily seafood.
Katja, "What ees crawfeesh bisque?"
Waitress, "Stuffed crawfish heads in a delicious brown roux, so good it will make you cry, you gonna love it honey."
"I will haf. Also, what ees soft shell crab?"
"For the crab to get bigger, it has to lose its shell once in a while and grow a new one. When they catch 'em without the shell, that's called soft shell. We fry up the whole thing, everybody loves fried soft shell."
"That one too."
Ellen gets turtle soup again, Galatoire's made her a convert, Katya has seafood gumbo. After the soups, Katja tells the waitress, "Bring also more bisque for sister and Ellen, ees best ever zoup."
Waitress, "Told you honey."
Ellen, "Ohmygod, this is amazing, gotta be a recipe online, I am going to so make this at home."
Katya, "We will come to New Orleans and have, also beignets."
When entrees arrive, the girls decide they've landed in food heaven. Beside Katja's soft shell crabs, Ellen has fried oysters, Katya fried speckled trout, they share tastes.
Ellen, "Good Lord Katja, that crab is another best thing ever."
Waitress checks in, "Did I lie?"
Katja, "Ees best ever with bisque zoup. Everything here ees good."
"Glad you like it baby, good to see girls enjoy their food. How 'bout dessert, bread pudding is good, butter pecan ice cream too."
Katja, "We will share one bread pudding and one buttery pecan."
Waitress, "You got the cutest accent, and twins too. Where you girls from?"
Katja fudges location, "We leaf een Arizona, sister and I are from Belarus. We are American now."
"And the knockout?"
"She ees Arizona girl, we all leaf together. On vacation, first ever treep to New Orleans."
Waitress, "You picked the right spot babys, be right back with dessert."
Bread pudding last night, again for lunch, but it's really good, and they only shared one. They love good food, they also love slim figures.
Walk, walk, walk the Quarter, stop for coffee at Cafe Envie on Decatur St., then walk some more. Katya is interested in the old houses that jam the residential area of the French Quarter.
Ellen, "I read someplace they have courtyards in back, some even have extra space that used to be slave quarters a long time ago."
Katya, "I will look up at home, see what houses are like inside," she checks her phone, "all boxes delivered. We will go home in the morning."
Katja doesn't say anything, but she senses a combination of curiosity and something she almost never sees in her dead serious twin, a flicker of enthusiasm. The lazy old dysfunctional city has caught Katya's attention.
Back in the suite, long showers followed by drinks and a light room service dinner. Ellen services twins into a slow series of soft moans, asleep by eleven.
Up and out by eight, drive five hours to Houston. While they have the rental, they split up. Katya and Ellen take their cars, Katja keeps the Escalade, they round up the boxes and bring them to the house. Ellen follows her to the rental company, turn in the Escalade, go home.
Ellen, "Lotta driving, but we have every box, intact, no problems."
Katya, "I ordered safes, deliver over next few days. At least if house burns down, we will not lose money. Tomorrow, sister and you will open more bank accounts. Deposit nine thousand every week. I have decided not to open more business. Licenses, taxes, city sticks nose in. We will accumulate cash in bank accounts in our name, also in fake names. Anything we can pay cash for, we will. It will take time, but eventually we will have millions in bank accounts, all clean. Until then, we already have good credit with two banks for home mortgage, building mortgage and credit cards."
The safes arrive, Katya decided on three to avoid the obvious. A good safe cracker might, in time, break into one, but not three. She also has them installed by three different companies. Two hour fire resistance, digital key code, secure from almost all types of burglary attacks including power tools and cutting torches. One is in Ellen's bedroom, it serves as a fabric covered end table, the other two in closets.
They don't use a home alarm, at least not one that goes to any company. If someone breaks in, alarms screech in the house and they get simultaneous alerts on their phones, along with video of the interior and exterior. All with a battery backup, pulling the breaker outside or cutting a cable line doesn't do jack. If they are all out of town, they can call the police themselves, no different than a common alarm company would do.
Katya, "One day we will hire private jet, take a few million to Cayman Islands, let it sit, then wire it back to US banks over time. Remember Ellen, tell no one about money, even when we have it cleaned up, money is nobody's business."
Ellen, "Got nobody to tell but I get the point, money is an asshole magnet."
The next few weeks are quiet, they don't alter routines, the twins look after the shops, Ellen goes to sommelier class at LeNôtre. It's basic, but she learns the fundamentals, then takes LeNôtre Sommelier I, a focus on the wines of Europe with a study of the professional duties associated with a wine steward. Then LeNôtre Sommelier II, wines of the new world and the production, service, and regional styles of other beverage alcohols including cider, beer, sake, sparkling wine, and a wide range of distilled liquor.
It isn't for her to make a production of having wine at home, or to become a sommelier, Ellen is just interested in all things food, including beverages. If a bit of knowledge can help her select good wines to accompany the dishes she makes, it's another way to thank the twins. They could have treated her like a hired hand, and she would have gone with it. But they didn't, they treat her like an equal. They don't abuse, they also know Ellen doesn't want equal. She likes to be told, not asked.
"Ready for an assignment? Good money."
Katya, "Be over in an hour."
Penny fills her in, "An interesting one. A twenty something, rich, handsome with the slim three day old unshaven look that seems to wet women's panties. A tech start-up multimillionaire. Not Facebook or Google rich, but rich enough, a little research says a couple hundred million. Some kind of game kids play on their phones. Anyway, he likes rough sex, real rough, sadistic. In my former life I came across these assholes, took more than a few punches and slaps before I could run. Pimp says he protects us, bullshit. Street whore is on her own. Anyway, that's blood under the bridge, you got me outta that life."
Katya is waiting, she's learned that people need to tell their stories in their own time, she's letting Penny's unfold.
"The target got busted for sexual battery once, lawyered up, paid a settlement, the dust settled and he walked. Then he put an alleged girlfriend in the hospital, girlfriend as engaged to be married. She claims they were playing and it got out of control. Cigarette burns on her vagina and bloody lashes down her back and buttocks say otherwise, but she refused to press charges. Fortunately for her, daddy isn't letting him off the hook. Since the target is a name, I said two hundred grand, daddy didn't miss a beat. First hundred arrived yesterday, your fifty is in the envelope with photos, address, the usual."
Katya, "Any time frame?"
"None specified, sooner he's dead, sooner we get the rest."
Katya leaves, hops on her Vespa and scoots home.
"Ellen, book flight to San Francisco, first available first class, return flight two days later. Hotel for two nights, Redwood City, rent an SUV. If we have to stay longer, we can make changes then."
Ellen, "What equipment?"
Katya, "Forget commercial, find a private plane, I read about Blue Sky, fly on four hours notice. We can take guns broken down in baggage, they do not screen luggage on a private flight. Take three Glocks, one rifle. Book in fake names. Then get ID out of the safe."
Ellen fishes around, finds Blue Sky, sets up an account, books for tomorrow at nine.
"This costs a ton, like ten grand."
Katja is looking over the site with her, "Ellen, we haf millions, we can pay ten thousand a hundred days a year and ees only one million. Private will be better, no airport line, and they will arrange car, haf lunch on plane, sister and I want filet steak."
Ellen, "Yum, me too, " she clicks off then finds hotels, "There's a place that will work, Sofitel on San Francisco Bay. Big commercial place for corporate meetings, nice and anonymous. Want a suite?"
Next day, four hour flight to the left coast, pick up two in time zones, arrive at three. Tahoe is waiting, bags in back, on to the hotel.
Katja, "Good peek. Plenty of business person wiz name tag hustling around, suite ees good, corporate boring."
Ellen giggles, "True, nice though, even if it has zero personality."
Katya, "We are not on vacation, personality someplace else. Bar is stocked, time to work. Let's go see the house and business office. Business office first."
Ellen, "This SUV is cool, bucket seats front and rear, leather everything. I gotta get one of these suckers."
The target's name is Serge Brin, vaguely Slavic, which won't endear him to the twins. There is limited parking, buses roam the city at various pickup points and drop off engineers at the offices. It's a mini campus, nothing like Google or Facebook, a campus for several tech companies, not just NanoBot.
Katja, "What ees NanoBot?"
Katya, "Made up name. First game was to make tiny robot that infiltrates computer systems and start to take over from within. They are small, like tiny ants. The bot crawls electronics and infects them. The object is to save the world from it taking over all systems, financial, political and military. Game player has to collect antivirus and other junk to kill off bots."
Ellen, "People spend money for it, on purpose?"
Katya, "And a lot worse. The game got good write up because it teaches computer technology and coding. Something educational kids would actually play. NanoBot has other games, not just little ants, but things that teach more extensive coding and hardware. His business intention is good, his weakness for abuse is getting him dead."
Ellen, "Do you know why the girl stays with him?"
"A hundred million reasons, some of which went to a Porsche for her. She lives in the mega mansion, plays tennis when she's not shopping or going to a SPA."
Ellen, "They aren't married yet."
"No, I doubt Brin has any intention of getting married. She's a hot minor pro tennis player, the ring is for show. If he does marry her, you can be sure there will be a tightly written prenup. She won't get jack in a divorce."
"What if they have kids?"
"She had a hysterectomy, no kids."
"You sure know a lot about them."
"Most of it was online in gossip rags. I was curious. Does not change anything, we will kill him, go home. What happens to her is her problem. Maybe new boyfriend is not as rich, also maybe he does not burn her vagina with cigarette."
"Wait out here, I am going to apply for a job."
Katya goes in the building, receptionist calls HR, a stocky woman troglodyte shows up. Katya reels off popular game codes, C++, html and Java script, Python, says she can code in all of them. She also claims to have discovered a bug in the original NanoBot game that allows players to skip levels, but rack up points as if they had actually played them.
HR Lady has no clue, calls a junior engineer. He comes down, listens to Katya's story and sneers."
Katya, "You have game console?"
Of course they have game consoles, it's a game company. He leads HR Lady and Katya to a cubicle.
"You've played it, so load up and show me."
Katya clicks a few keys, "This is not public version, what you sell to people. This is stripped down nothing version."
He shrugs, HR Lady apparently outranks him, "Jerry, quit fucking around, she either knows something we need to know or she doesn't."
He clicks her into the full version, Katya plays a couple of levels, Jerry says, "See, nothing, this is common intermediate level, she's played it before, but she hasn't hacked it."
Then Katya is on level six, Jerry shuts up. She stops, shows him the scores of levels she didn't play. He stares at the screen in the hope he will wake up from his nightmare."
HR Lady, "Sit down Jerry," she dials a number on her cell, "Morris, we have a problem, come to two-twenty."
A bearded dweeb shows up, HR Lady says, "Tell your boss what happened Jerry."
Jerry's mouth opens and closes, like a dying fish, Katya shows Morris the problem in the code, she busted in the back end waiting on him to show up.
"Holy fuck. Jerry, you're fired, we'll ship you your shit, check him out Marge. Come with me please..ummm..."
"Okay, Valeria, can I get you something, coffee, tea?"
"Red Bull must be a staple around here, the sugar free kind."
He dials a number, a minute later a kid shows up with a can of Red Bull and a napkin.
"How about a glass for our guest, idiot?"
Katya pops the top, "Not necessary," she chugs the thing and plops the empty in his trash can.
"Don't mind me, I work with engineers, we call each other names all day."
Katya, "Couldn't give a shit. I can fix the hole in your system. I'm not the only one who found it, you have a lot of top players who couldn't get past level three otherwise. Bad for the stock price for this to get out."
"Is this blackmail?"
"No, only pointing out the obvious. Eventually some hacker is going to short your stock and release the story. I could have done it myself, I came to you for a job instead."
"You're hired, hundred thousand to start, options after sixty days."
Katya doesn't plan on collecting checks so she agrees, "Short tour of the facility?"
Mark, "Sure, I got a meeting, can Shelia take you around?"
Katya nods assent, a young hottie appears, it's tech, she's in jeans, a simple peasant blouse, sneakers.
Sheila, "I've never seen you before, they never hire anyone without a half dozen interviews, you got pictures of the boss on a compromising position?"
Katya, "Better. Where does boss work?"
"All over, he doesn't have an office, he wanders the floors, eats all his meals in the cafeteria. He comes in at some ungodly hour and leaves at nine or ten most nights. He does take Saturday afternoon and Sunday off. That's company policy."
"He come up with that?"
"No, HR, Marge is a drill sergeant, but she runs a clean shop. And she doesn't allow any macho geek crap directed at women. All the engineers are autistic assholes, and they give each other a hard time, they leave the admin staff alone. I used to work at another tech company, a big one. I got every kind of harass there was and nobody would do anything about it. In Silicon Valley, if you can write code, you can kill babies on the side, nobody cares. Marge at least keeps them off our backs. You're a hot girl, but an engineer. You get the abuse, but not sexual innuendo. They'll call you dork, idiot, fuckwad, but it's the same stuff they call each other. They won't hit on you or talk about tight jeans or tits or ask you what color your panties are."
Katya thinks to herself, 'No matter, I would kill them and they do not anymore make stupid comment.'
Sheila, "Well, well, here's God himself, hello Serge, meet your newest employee, Valeria."
Serge wears circular shades, not dark, kind of light gray, "Welcome, I just spoke to Mark, you may have saved my life. I'm on my way to a meeting about the problem, got any thoughts?"
Katya (Valeria), "I will fix the bug, do not do anything. Some players exploited the hole, so you will have a few with great scores they did not earn. But with six million players, twenty or thirty with fake scores is not going to mean anything. The main problem, a public announcement and a stock slide, goes away with the fix. If there is no money to be made, no reason to go public, the leak will look like it is from some stupid or malicious person."
Serge, "Then let's fix the code, right now."
Katya mentals Katja, "Going to be a while. I have new code already written, but they will want to test it. I will be out when it is done."
There's a board room with a half dozen engineers, Serge and Morris are the lead dogs.
Morris, "We have a fuck-up, and Valeria came to us to tell us about it. Valeria, I've already described the problem, we took a look at the code, but can't find where the hole is, it could take a while."
Katya, "Maybe five minute."
One of the geeks snorts, "Gotta see that."
There is a machine set up already, reviewing code is an integral part of the work. The screen is a seventy inch flat screen so everyone can see the lines as they scroll down.
Katya types in a jumble of letters, numbers and symbols, "What happened is not so much that your system is bad, but it has open gateways. Someone got to the guts and entered a few lines that allow for the cheat. It is here..she taps the enter button."
"It looks like...nothing."
"If I remove it, it will shut down the entire system."
Mark, "Oh shit."
"So I wrote a program to cancel that order and delete the bad code, you may want to review before I implement."
Serge, "Yeah, we do. Go over what you have and let us digest it please."
She does, it's about forty lines, and it's complicated, but they don't see any obvious flaws.
"I suggest you announce regular maintenance. The excuse you want to make sure players have a seamless experience usually works and will not scare anyone."
Matt, "Put up the normal announcement, give them a half hour, then take it down. We can put in the new stuff and test it. It's all backed up, if the new code is a problem, we don't lose anything."
An hour later, Katya walks out of the front entrance and to the waiting car.
Ellen, "Any problems?"
"Nyet, they want for me to go have drinks, I said I have to make arrangement to move and it will be a week before I can start."
"They haf camera all over, inside too?"
"Yes, I do not care. Tomorrow we swap car, I have temp hair color and glasses, plain jeans. Video they have is useless."
Ellen, "Serge is going to see you again? Maybe that's good, he knows you, or thinks he does."
"No matter, he will be dead, you might do it, or Katja, who will not look like the person he saw today. Drive to house, we should see if there is a better chance there."
The house is a no go. Gates, cameras, solid security system and two Rottweilers. The only way in would be for Katya to wrangle an invitation and that could take too long.
Ellen, "Let's go back to the campus, see what happens when he leaves. Then we pick him up leaving the house in the morning and get a sense of his route to work."
"The girl, Sheila, said he comes early and works late, eats all meals at the cafeteria. Our best shot is to or from work."
Back to the NanoBot offices, Serge's road rocket is still in its covered spot.
Ellen, "What kind of car is that?"
"Lamborghini LP 700 Roadster, four wheel drive, top speed over two hundred, zero to sixty in three seconds flat."
Ellen, "Fuck me sideways, what does that monster cost?"
"Four hundred thousand."
"And to think, last year we couldn't dream it, today it's pocket change. What a world. I'm still getting my SUV."
Katja, "Maybe I will buy, I want to go two hundred."
Ellen, "Where you gonna do that?"
"Anyplace I want, who ees catch me?"
They sip coffee, the clock ticks, then Serge comes and fires up his toy. For all the car's capability, he's a sensible driver. No screeching exit, goes the speed limit, uses blinkers.
Ellen, "He must have someplace to go that works the car. It's not built to cruise. Must be private tracks around to give it exercise."
Serge goes straight home, the big iron gate clicks open, front lights up like a stadium, he pulls in, garage door opens. There's one side of a Mercedes visible, it's a four car garage, no way to tell if there are four cars in it. The lights go out.
Katya, "Too risky here. Retrace the route. There were stoplights with nobody around. Three of us, each take a spot. If he stops and it's a clean shoot, problem solved. After we look, go to hotel, it's late and we have had nothing to eat since plane."
Ellen, "We gonna follow him in the morning?"
"Da, maybe something falls into lap, or he has a morning routine we can exploit."
They stop for pizza, take it to the room and open beers from the minibar. Been a long day and they're getting up in six hours, asleep by eleven thirty.
Before dawn cracks, Ellen has coffee and tea ready. Her Russian dolls drink inky black tea. Ellen prefers power coffee with cream.
After they follow Serge to the office, Ellen drives them to the rental company and swaps for two mid size sedans, unremarkable Buick somethings.
Katya, "Nothing on his way to work, he takes the same route in reverse. It is too much daylight, better to do at night. There are four possibilities. Tonight, drop me off at the third, Ellen takes the first, Katja the second. If Ellen has no chance, she goes to the forth. If Katja has no shot, maybe I get one. In any case, she picks me up at number three. If he's dead, we call Ellen and go. If not, he is a lucky man but still has to get past Ellen."
"They're all stoplights, what if he just gets lucky and catches the green?"
"Then he gets lucky. He cannot get lucky every night...wait...no, if area is quiet but light is green, shoot tire. He does not speed. Guns are silenced, he will think he got a flat. When he gets out, take him."
"He's gonna stay in the car and call somebody."
"Even better, shoot him een car, no dead body on street."
They hang out all day alternating spots with a view of the campus. Serge's car stays put.
Ellen is in one car with Katja, she mentals her sister, "Katya, we go for break."
"Da, okay, I am watching."
Ellen drives to, where else? Peet's. They return with yet more coffee and tea.
"If we go one more time, we will haf backseat covered een cups and wrapping."
Ellen laughs, "This is the first day my breakfast and lunch came from Peet's. We went, what, four times so far?"
"Haf to pee someplace, Peet's ees okay, not Katya Donut, but anyway okay."
"Yeah, think how good one of the sandwiches would have been, overstuffed toasty croissant with ham and cheese, fat powdered sugar raised, dang."
Katja lets her sister know they're back. They've been listening to a public radio station all day.
Ellen, "Geez, we're gonna be the best informed people in Silicon Valley, mostly about the Middle East. Don't those people do anything but kill each other?"
Katja, "Women are property of men. I hope men all keel each other."
"That's a thought. And here comes Serge."
"Katya, Serge ees leaf, we must go."
Katja switches to Katya's car, she takes her to spot three, returns to two.
Ellen calls Katja, "No chance, going to four," she clicks off.
Katja is parked next to a dumpster, she can see the road and the light, the Lamborghini comes into view. She steps out of the car. He's got a green, it jumps to yellow but he's right at the intersection and continues through.
"On his way to you. I'm coming now."
The third opportunity is a light just before an underpass. It's the most dark and shadowy, the problem is the light doesn't change very often. Katya hears the growl of the car, the same moment she spots the pedestrian button to cross the street, she pushes it.
Nothing, nothing, the flash car is a half block away, yellow, then red, the crossing signal goes to its ten second countdown.
Another car is coming, three blocks, Katya is alongside a stretch of bushes. She fires three times, Serge has a rather messy and sizeable hole in his head. She turns and scoots into the shadow of the underpass.
The approaching car makes a left a block down. Katya's Glock is suppressed, maybe they didn't see the small muzzle flash, and the bushes kept her out of the line of sight. Katja is across the street, pulls the sedan to the curb, Katya gets in and they disappear.
Katja calls Ellen, "To the hotel."
Over vodka, Ellen wants to know how it went. Katya recaps, they toast a second fifty grand payday. It's late, and later in Houston, Katya will call Penny tomorrow.
Ellen, "Last night in the hotel, sex anyone?"
Since Katya completed the contract, she gets double teamed. After a third orgasm, she drifts off to sleep. Katja decides it's an excellent opportunity to ravish Ellen, a ravishing ravishee. By midnight, all the death girls are snuggled, happy dreams of assassinations yet to come.