Page 114 of Hit Man
“The crates are heavy,” Little-Man whines.
“Is that a no?” she demands.
“The cargo will be loaded and secured,” someone else with better common sense jumps in.
“When do you anticipate the ship to arrive in Cork?”
“Fourteen days. Departing and arriving on a Saturday.”
“Can you hold off delivery by one day? The port will be less busy on a Sunday, I believe. It is the day of rest, after all.”
I shake my head. Señora’s going to need a hell of a lot more than a visit to church to absolve her sins.
“I’ll notify my partner in Ireland to expect delivery two Sundays from this upcoming one.”
Her partner. No name. No sex . . . hell, she might be working with another woman. Damn it. Aside from confirmation that she’s not someone you underestimate, what new information have I learned?
Nada.
But as soon as I can steal inside her office next door . . .
“Señor Mendoza said you’re responsible for paying us,” Little-Man speaks up, recklessly.
“That’s correct. Thanks for reminding me.”
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
I stiffen, hearing Little-Man scream, “Bitch.”
Pop.
“I’m counting on you to communicate the new arrangements. For Sunday, understood?”
“Yes, Señora.”
“I’m about finished with tidying up loose business. Here is your pay along with these four fools. You’ve been the most reliable of helpers, Manuel. Now hurry and help my staff drag them out to the shed before you drive the van back to Acapulco. After we’re gone, you can bury them besides the others in the garden.”
I feel my eyebrows arch, high enough to touch the rococo-themed ceiling above. Exactly how many men has this bloodthirsty señora killed?”
“As you wish.”
“There will be flies now,” she murmurs.
I try not to react. She just killed someone and she’s worried about flies?
“It’ll be a few day until I close up the hacienda,” she murmurs. “My son and I depart on Saturday so long as this airport nonsense ends.”
Airport nonsenseis correct. And I question her judgment. Why she didn’t kill them out in the shed and leave less of a mess to clean up is a mystery to me.
“My son and his nanny will be returning shortly. I’m expecting company. Shall we?”
I hear them grunting as the take hold of the lifeless bodies.
“I’ll be in touch, Manuel.”
