The door opened soundlessly into the empty office on the seventh floor. I stepped onto the plush carpet and smiled at the soft luxury I felt beneath my Saint Laurent-Maurice thigh boots. My favorite boots, paired with a black leather midi dress, made me feel like I belonged in an office like this, giving orders and running a business. The outfit was perfect for me. I stood an even five foot nothing, my red hair cut short with side-swept bangs, and the left side of my head buzzed tight. I smiled to myself as I took my black leather backpack and set it down softly on the floor. I moved back to the door, made sure it was locked, then set about assembling my pride and joy, a Remington M24 SWS (Sniper Weapon System). I put the weapon together with careful precision, each piece put in place with tender care. The last item assembled was a custom suppressor on the end of the barrel. No need to alert everyone in the building that shots were being fired.
I walked to the windows of the office, choosing the one that gave me the best angle on the building across the street. The two buildings were brand-new in Harlingen, TX, and only around sixty percent occupied. Brand-new offices upstairs, and storefronts on the ground floor, both buildings sported reflective windows for privacy and heat resistance in a state that was in the eighties and nineties six to eight months of the year. I took my glass cutter out of the front pocket of the backpack and removed a circle of glass about eight inches off the floor. I then took my baby and set her on the front legs and checked her sight. I wasn’t worried; I had just spent several hours zeroing my Remington two days before.
Everything ready to go, I sat on the plush flooring and leaned against the support between the windows and pulled a bag of O positive. As I sipped from the bag like a kid with a Juicebox, I watched the building across the plaza. As the day slipped into the late afternoon, I put the empty container away and rolled into position on the floor. I shifted about just a bit to make sure I was comfortable and unlikely to move unexpectedly. I put my Remington into place on my left shoulder with her barrel peeking out the hole in the window. There was a meeting going on in the office I was facing, but I wasn’t worried. I was happy to have a few people see what was about to happen. I couldn’t see the meeting, all the windows in these twin buildings were mirrored, but I knew the meeting was going on and had planned accordingly.
I had been lying in the empty office for about ten minutes when the transport basket of a lift moved into view. Two men stood in the basket with all the supplies needed to clean the windows. The basket was turned parallel to the side of the building so both occupants could do their jobs. Juan Ramsden and Eduardo Alveraz were both of Mexican descent. Eduardo was a man of average height and weight, dark hair, with brown eyes, and Juan Ramsden was a slimeball. Ok, that might have been a bit subjective, but I stand by my assessment. He stood five foot eleven and weighed all of a buck fifty.
I set my crosshairs on the back of the head of Juan Ramsden. Juan dipped down as he washed the lower part of the window he faced and then came back to his six-foot height as he cleaned the upper part of the window. He put the scrubber he had been using into the bucket of water and pulled his squeegee off his belt. As Juan reached up to start the pattern that would remove the dirty water from the window, I let out a breath and squeezed Rem’s trigger. The back of Juan’s head didn’t show any sign of being struck with a high-speed bullet, due to his long hair. The front of Juan’s head, though, exploded outward, splattered into the room he was facing along with the glass that shattered into the room. I watched for only a few seconds and then ejected the spent casing and began disassembling my sweet Remington.
I smiled and talked softly as I went about my chore, “That was perfect jentebaby, you did a wonderful job as always. When we get home later, I will clean you up and make sure you are well oiled, including your wooden stock.” As I said, this particular Remington was a custom build, and the stock was a light Birch that was stained baby-blue. I kept her well oiled and cared for. After finishing taking Rem apart and stowing her in her backpack, I glanced back at the job I had just finished.
Juan Ramsden’s window washing partner was on his knees in the basket spilling his guts all over the deck. The people in the meeting were split between those also spewing their breakfasts and those on the phone. No one seemed to want to look at Juan dangling from the basket by his safety line. I picked up my backpack, grabbed the spent casing, and set it on the floor pointed at the scene. I wasn’t worried about any fingerprints; I didn’t have any when I loaded the weapon. I had a wonderful gift that allowed me to make my fingers and lips completely smooth when needed. I could, with effort, change my fingerprints to different patterns, but I usually saved that for when setting someone else up to take the blame for something.
I walked out the door of the office and headed to the service elevator waiting for me. The janitor stood where I had left him holding the elevator. I had him get out and wiped any memory of me or why he was on this floor. As the elevator took me to the retail level of the building, I pulled out my phone and put my earpiece in place.
“Bondevik Security, Danielle Bondevik speaking, how may I assist you?”
I smiled, my great-niece, times about 55 greats, was a wonderful young lady. “Dani, it’s Anna. Please send the packages out now.”
“Hi, Anna, I would be happy to send the packages out. Especially for this particular piece of work. Do you want the usual precautions on this mailing?” Dani was smiling, I could tell. The girl was brilliant and knew what was required to send out the packages we were discussing.
“Yes, Dani, please use the standard procedure. The job went seamlessly, and I want the press and the courts to know why Mrs. Juan Ramsden is now a widow and her children fatherless.”
“On it immediately, Anna.” I was about to hang up when Dani spoke again, “Mother told me to ask you if you would please come to dinner on Saturday. She has something she would like to discuss with you.”
I knew what Dani’s mother wanted. I had been having this same discussion fifty years ago with Dani’s Grandmother. I sighed.
“Tell your mother I will be there.” I shook my head at Dani’s giggle. “I want you there, Dani. If I am going to have this same argument every generation, I might as well nip yours in the bud and have you listen in.”
“No problem Aunt Anna. I have heard mom and grandma talking about it before. I would be happy to back you up.” Dani then disconnected the call so she could get the packages sent out.
I knew it would only take about an hour for the four packages to reach their destinations. One packet would be sent to each of the major news stations in the Rio Grande Valley, and one would go to the McAllen Municipal Courthouse. Each parcel was a comprehensive collection of the evidence of Juan Ramsden’s guilt in the abuse, rape, and murder of twelve teen girls. Much of the evidence was not admissible in court, as I had acquired it without warrants or authorization of any kind. Juan had gone to court, his trial had been short, and the charges against him dismissed.
The District Attorney’s office wasn’t to blame, nor were the police officers who investigated the crime and arrested the man. The fault, in this case, was with Juan Ramsden’s defense attorney. The man was a slimy example of the justice system. He had gotten most of the evidence against his client excluded on the smallest of legal loopholes.
Shaking my head, I cleared my mind of the anger this entire situation brought up. Marco Lamas was an expert at exploiting the justice system for his clients. Marco, some would say, was a slimy toad that deserved retribution. I couldn’t think about that. Marco did things that made me want to scream, but he did it all within the halls of the courts and had never done anything illegal. Morally reprehensible, yes, but not unlawful.
Juan Ramsden, on the other hand, had been a monster. He preyed on children and caused the kind of harm that no bandage in the world could ever fix. I had already found the names of every child Juan had ever harmed and arranged an anonymous charity to send money to the families for things like medical and mental health costs. There was only so much even someone with my financial abilities could do for them. Thus, I had just put a bullet through Juan Ramsden’s skull. Juan was the thirty-second person to die at my hands for crimes against children. Well, at least here in the British Colonies. Yes, I still thought of the United States that way.
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I am not advocating that a person accused of harming a child should be immediately killed. I observe these kinds of events, and if a person hurts a child or group of children, is captured and found guilty, and is sentenced to punishment, I leave them alone. If a person is arrested and tried and found to be innocent of the crime, I leave them alone. If a person is guilty of the crime they are accused of against a child, and the legal system allows that person to go free due to some “technical” reason, I removed them from the ranks of the living.
The elevator arrived at the retail level, and the doors opened to a maintenance hallway. I shouldered my backpack and entered the door to a sandwich shop, made my way through the kitchen and into the customer area. The servers at the counter all waved to me and wished me a good day. They all knew me as the representative from the corporation that owned Sliders. I had come in a couple of hours past to look over the books and the maintenance logs. I did this routinely for all of the Sliders in South Texas, so I knew that no one would ever be poisoned in one of my restaurants. Casa de Hogar, the company that owned Sliders, was, in turn, owned by Bondevik Security as a food service company. Casa de Hogar owned the chain of sandwich shops called Sliders and several catering firms throughout Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern California.
I walked to my Mini Cooper in the parking lot, and with a chirp of the alarm, I opened the door and slid in. Setting my leather backpack on the passenger seat, I looked in the rear-view mirror and sighed.
“What do you want, drittsekk?” I stared at the man in the backseat and kept eye contact.
“My employer wishes to speak with you, Aryanna Bondevik. He has a job he needs doing, and he wants you to do it.” The sneer on my passenger’s face made me want to laugh.
“You can tell your employer that I do not do work for others. My skills are my own, and any work I do is for myself.” I put the key in the ignition and started my car.
“Mr. Andross isn’t going to accept that answer. You will do the job, or your people will pay for your refusal. Your building, the one in Harlingen, is now sitting on five tons of TNT. I don’t report that you have accepted the job within the next hour, or if you fail to carry out the job, your offices and everyone within dies.” My passenger held up a phone to illustrate what he was talking about.
I put my Mini in reverse and backed out of the spot I was parked in. I put on my seatbelt and advised he do the same. “You might be a big, bad, enforcer for Mr. Andross, but I am not getting a ticket because you refuse to put on a seatbelt.”
“Just drive. The Marriot Suites, four blocks from here, is our destination. Now drive.”
I raised an eyebrow and then dropped the clutch and put the gas peddle to the floor. In eight seconds, my Hardtop John Cooper Works Knights Edition 2-door Hatchback reached sixty mph. Just seconds after that, I slammed on the brakes, and the drittsekk in the backseat came flying forward, between the front seats. I grabbed the phone out of his hand and wrapped my arm around his neck. I waited until my captive stopped struggling and released him to fall back into the narrow backseat. Stepping on the gas again, I maneuvered the car into traffic.
I set his phone in my cup holder, pulled my phone from the front pocket of my backpack, and put it into its holder. I hit the speed dial for Dani and tapped my earpiece to activate it.
“Bondevik Security, Danielle …”
“Dani, call Johan into your office, now please.” I interrupted her, something that I despised, but this was necessary.
“Hold one-moment, Aunt Anna.” Taylor Swift’s Everything Has Changed played in my ear. I was not too fond of canned hold music, and thus an individual Pandora station played for my phone system.
The music stopped. “Anna? Johan, here, what’s happening?”
“I have a smelly drittsekk in my car that just informed me that there is a large amount of explosive in the basement of Bondevik Security. It was put there to secure my cooperation to do a job. I fear to have you evacuate if they are watching and will detonate in that instance. Take your team and check it out while I deal with my dinner. Call me as soon as you have things secured.” I was calm as I gave Johan my instructions.
“Got it, boss lady. I will call you back asap.” I could hear Johan on calling out to his team as Dani came back on the phone.
“How would they have gotten explosives into our basement Aunt Anna? There have been no unknown people in the building today, and we don’t allow maintenance people into the building as we have our own.”
“It may be bluster sweety, but I am not about to risk you, Johan, or anyone else in this family without checking all possibilities. I am hanging up so Johan can reach me.” I disconnected the call and pulled into a parking lot next to a recently abandoned restaurant. I parked behind the building in an enclosed area that used to hold the dumpsters. I reached into the back seat and pulled my passenger forward. From the cup holder that wasn’t holding a phone, I pulled a baby wipe out of the dispenser. I used it to clean my passenger’s neck. I then tilted his head back and letting my fangs extend, I punctured his carotid and began to drink.
I am a vampire of extreme age and thus can go up to two weeks between feedings. I enjoy the taste of O positive blood as it tends to have a light flavor and always makes me happy when I indulge. I can, however, gorge myself on the blood of up to four full-grown adults at any time. Filling myself like that leaves me with the same feeling many people describe after Thanksgiving dinner. I will be lethargic and want nothing more than to nap and let my system relax. That being said, a single human, thoroughly drained, will set me up to not experience cravings for at least a month.
I drained the drittsekk, waiting for the sound of his heart to slow to a survivable level and then licked the wounds. The two puncture holes vanished due to the healing properties of my saliva. I drove the two of us across the Mexican border and dropped him off at a Comisaría federal.
I left the parking area of the Comisaría federal and headed back across the border. I next hit the nearest Whataburger and got myself a Diet Dr. Pepper, two orders of large fries, and a hot apple pie. I may have just drunk my fill on blood, but the man was about as tasty as cardboard. There was something very unappealing about B negative blood that just left the palette wanting. I wanted something that had some flavor and lots of salt. I sat in the parking lot of the Whataburger, savoring my fries when my phone rang.
“Anna, here.”
Johan’s voice came across the line. “We did a full sweep of the basement levels, the parking level, the sewer, and utility tunnels beneath us and every floor. There are no explosives present in the building boss.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Johan; I will let you know later what is going on.”
The drittsekk’s phone chose that moment to ring. I answered it.
“This is Aryanna Bondevik speaking. Your messenger is, unfortunately, no longer able to use the phone. Is this Andross?”
The man who spoke had a deep, raspy voice, like someone who was having trouble with his breathing. “This is Benedict Andross, yes. Ms. Bondevik, where is my messenger?”
“He is enjoying the company of the policia federal at the moment. I have diplomatic ties in Mexico, and your messenger forced me to drive across the border and was caught trying to end me.” I tsked over the phone. “The current Mexican government frowns on the attempted murder of people who do business with them.”
Benedict groaned. “Estúpida, estúpida idiota! Ms. Bondevik, I must apologize. I do not know what my idiota Sobrino was thinking, but I never authorized a threat to you. He was supposed to deliver a simple invitation to meet with me so I could talk to you about a job I wanted you to deal with. Maldita sea!”
I shook my head. “I apologize for having him arrested, but if he knew who I was, he should have known better than to sit in a car with a vampire and issue threats. Especially since it was me specifically, he threatened. I take the safety and security of my family and employees severely, and it is difficult to maintain that if I am dead.”
“Ms. Bondevik, did you just admit to me that you are a vampira?” He sounded surprised.“If you are coming to me offering work, I must deduce that you have done your homework, Benedict. I would be a fool to think anything else.”
“You are correct. I did know this. With the bulk of the supernatural world revealing themselves, it is becoming easier to see folk like yourself who have spent decades switching identities and leaving their fortunes to a child that appears out of nowhere very suddenly.” Benedict sounded tired. “Please, Ms. Bondevik, I know my Sobrino did not paint me in a positive light with his attempt on your life, but would you be willing to hear my proposal?”
“Honestly, Benedict, I do not do work for others. I work for myself and my family, and the jobs we decide need to be done. I am willing to let your nephew’s mistake pass, but I don’t want to lead you to believe I am for hire.”
“Ms. Bondevik, the job I have in mind is your kind of situation. A priest in the employ of a relief organization I run in Brazil is kidnapping and selling children into slavery and possibly worse. I cannot allow this to continue. I also cannot send any of my people as rumors spread quickly, and the man in question would vanish. I need your expertise.” Benedict sounded desperate.
“I will look into this. Send the information on this employee to my email address that I will text you with this phone. I will look into the circumstances and see if it is something I would be willing to take on. What do you want me to do with this phone when I am done with the text?”
Benedict sighed, “I will send you the information. As far as the phone, I don’t care what you do with it.”
I drove to a house I owned on the outskirts of San Benito, and after setting the electronic alarms, I dropped my clothing to the bedroom floor and slipped into bed, exhausted.