She lit a cigarette while waiting for her ride. Her phone said the car was fifteen minutes away. It was a hot summer day and her white shirt showed signs of perspiration, especially on her armpits and back. She leaned back on the street lamp by the road while swirling grey smoke about her face. The call came early this morning and she didn’t have time to think, as she got ready for the job. She usually gave her actions a considerable amount of thought. She glanced at her wrist again. Time was ticking away slowly. There was a distant blare of traffic from the main road. Her thoughts drifted to a conversation she had with a friend few days ago.
“I don’t think I care particularly for animals considered as pets like dogs and cats, if they were farmed as food I would be okay with that.” She made the statement so nonchalantly that her friend looked disturbed.
“I am not quite sure about that. I mean I can’t eat anything that I would humanize...” He said softly. Jo looked at him sharply, ”So you are okay to dehumanize animals and slaughter them? Does that make it better? I would say that takes away whatever conscience and emotion you might feel while consuming such an animal. Did you know in old days, people would pray and pay their respect to the animals before hunting them? I think if you take away the fact that all animals have feelings as people do you would feel no responsibility towards them when you kill them for food. It’s better to respect them and maybe that’s why it is easy to commercialize food industry to such a giant scale and people think averting eyes frees them of all repercussions and responsibility.”
Her friend looked puzzled now, “This is a very strange thought, on one hand you are saying that you are okay with killing house pets as food and on the other hand, you are asking to feel for the animals farmed for food? You do realize the contradiction don’t you?”
Jo smiled at his simplicity, “There is duality in nature. Human beings are the only animals that hunt for sport and kill more animals that they can consume. There is no shame in eating animals, our ancestors did that too, but the practices need to be humane and one needs to respect the animal. There is a blatant disregard of Nature and her laws; humans really feel they are above the law that petty animals and other beings need to follow. A sense of gratitude and empathy towards other beings is the need of the day.” She decided to stop there, since it seemed her friend had lost his interest in her monologue and was more absorbed in his coffee. She smiled at the common fallacy of humans and their constant need to buy their head in sand; if I close my eyes it goes away, this is not concerning me.
A sudden beep broke her train of thoughts her ride was here. She looked at her watch again it was on time. She stubbed whatever was left of her cigarette on the pavement with her heels. Soft classical music filled her ears as she slid into the back seat and closed the door. She took out the file from her black satchel and started reading about the job. The car moved slowly through the afternoon traffic, the noise of the city muffled by the windows drawn up. The file provided all information about the target, a businessman who worked his way from rags to riches. The job was simple, she were to kill him on his way to meet his mistress in the hotel Rio Grande at 3:00 pm. Her weapon of choice this time was poison, strychnine, homage of sorts to all detective stories she had read in which this poison featured as the star. The means to administrate required a little bit of reading up that she had done few nights before in anticipation of the job. She always changed her MO, this was her style and she usually spent a lot of time researching the means to end someone life. She also had procured all sorts of paraphernalia of poisons, knives and revolvers from what she had read and researched on, so that she may access to say a type of chemical or a specific knife or revolver if she sought it for her job. She took her job very seriously and was immensely proud of her body of works. While reading up on strychnine poisoning she came across a mention of a serial killer from the late 19th century, Thomas Neill Cream who used strychnine to murder several prostitutes on the streets of London. She wasn’t sure of his motives for the killing spree nor was she sure if did he bother to understand his victims before he did the deed, as she did for her job. She read the file avidly, picturing the life of the businessman and why she had decided to end his life. Although, the job came to her and she didn’t go looking for it, her employers knew she needed to know every detail of the intended target and the reason to snuff out a life. The reason needn’t be moral and noble, conversely corrupt and selfish reasons resonated to her more, because they rand truer than the altruistic claims that sometimes her employers made. She knew they wanted this man gone for purely reason of profit and that was okay, but there had to be a reason and she would take her time to contemplate her decision. This was her way and this was the way it had to be done. Pay her respect to her victim. In return, she would divulge her MO and her weapon of choice for the intended victim with them. They made sure things fall effortlessly into fall for all party involved in the little game of life and death.
The car came to a stop in front of a large driveway leading to the lobby of the Rio Grande. She looked up from her file, she was on her own now, they would sent another ride in one hour to pick her up after she was done. She sighed and climbed out of the non-descriptive black car. Picking up her stuff and her satchel she closed the door. As soon she stepped out, the engine started and the car vanished in a puff of grey smoke. She walked briskly to the reception desk; the lobby was expansive and ornate. It was unusually empty and she saw very few people lounging on the sofa, waiting to either check-in or out. Before she could ask the person behind the desk a question, the phone on the counter started to ring. She picked it up without thinking,
“He is heading towards the lift, you must go now.” The line went dead. Miss Jo carefully put the receiver back. The man at the desk didn’t bat an eyelid. She turned and made her way quickly to the lift. She saw the lift doors almost closing on her, “hold the door please!” She ran in and thanked the man inside; he smiled at her. He looked different from the photo, leaner and grey, but it was him, her job of the day.
“Which floor, Miss?” he smiled disarmingly. Miss Jo wondered was his ruthlessness reason enough for him to die? “Twelve, please, thank you”. He nodded, pushing the button; he was supposed to get off at ten. She moved to the back of the lift, there was just the two of them. The hunted, unaware and whistling a merry tune, and the hunter, looking for the syringe in her satchel that would inject the poison in the bottle of wine he held in his right hand. The lift moved up seamlessly and Miss Jo waited for the opportunity to slide in the needle in the cork of the bottle. The lift suddenly rumbled and the lights flickered, it stopped with a large thud. She was surprised, was this part of the plan? He pushed in some more of the buttons, nothing happened.
“Can you believe that? Let me try to call for help” He picked up the receiver on the panel near the buttons, putting the bottle down. Miss Jo acted instinctively, bending down as if to pick up something and injected strychnine into the bottle of merlot through the cork. She got up, shook her bangs away from her eyes, hiding her weapon inside. The dice was rolled and the stage was set. It was a matter of waiting. The lift started moving again; he smiled at her. “I am not fond of closed small spaces but you made it bearable” He was charming, she wondered how charming he would be when contorting in agony to his way to death. The lift chimed and stopped at the tenth floor, he nodded at her and walked out. She watched walk down the corridor holding his bottle of wine in his arms. She smiled to herself, this was quite easy, but something bothered her. She couldn’t out a finger on it, a nagging doubt. Like when a chewing gum had got stuck to her shoes the other day and she had to scrub so hard to get all of the disgusting bits off. Did his mistress drink too? What if she has put two people to death instead of one? Collateral damage? Should she go back? The lift chimed and stopped at the twelfth floor. She pushed in ten again; she had to make sure he was dead. She got out at the tenth floor and walked to room 1001. He always booked the same suite. She rang the bell, tapping her heels. A woman, draped in a silk kimono opened the door, looking at her quizzically.
“Who is it?” He asked from the bedroom. “No one, don’t worry…” the woman said sensuously. “Your work is done, what are you doing here?” She whispered furiously and closed the door on Miss Jo’s face.
Miss Jo stared at the closed door for a moment, so the woman knew, a multitude of events had lead to this man’s death. It seemed she was no longer in control nor was she the lone wolf hunter she had thought herself to be. She slowly walked back to the lift and pressed the button for the lobby. As the lift moved down, she thought about what her friend was saying few days ago.
“It is easier to be removed from some events in order to function in life. A little bit of abstraction is required. One need not know how exactly the mechanisms of each part and gears work in order to drive. I understand your point about empathy but if we are too involved we cannot function in an orderly way. So you may smile smugly and say things like pay tribute to all animals before eating, but if I do so, I can’t in my right mind consume meat.”
Miss Jo realized the trap she had set for herself and how close she had come to a blunder. Such a mistake would be unforgiving, leading to her being the target for someone else like her. The irony of it all caught her in a laugher, she indulged in a dry hacking giggle. The lift came to a standstill and the doors opened. Miss Jo walked out of the hotel.
