His eyes focused as he looked about the room constructed of cinder blocks. A lone soft bulb hung from a wire in the ceiling.
She walked up to him, the red dress replaced by jeans and a black turtleneck. She checked his pupils, they were still slightly dilated.
"I apologize," she said. "I must have used too much; you were out for four hours."
"Too much what?"
"Amazing stuff really. Concocted by a close friend of mine. It comes in two parts. Each part harmless by itself but when mixed together it attacks the central nervous system."
"Two parts?" he managed. "What the hell is going on?"
"Good, you’re coming out of it."
"Out of what?"
"I slipped you a mickey," she confessed flatly.
"Why did you do that? What kind of call girl are you?"
"The really weird kind." She toyed with him.
"Is this some sick sexual thing?" He looked around the room. "Because if it is I’m starting to like it."
"Let me explain it to you this way, you are in an old utility room in an abandoned building on the other side of Washington. It has been scheduled for demolition in about thirty minutes."
"Shit lady, you’re kinky!"
"Yeah and it gets better, this building has got just enough TNT strapped to it—in very strategic places—to bring this ol’ bitch down on your skull, crushing it to oblivion."
"Risk factor. Got it."
In one hand she had a very imposing gun. She attached a long silencer to it with the other.
"What’s with the gun?"
"I’m going to shoot you, three bullets center mass."
"Role playing?"
She laughed to herself. She couldn’t believe this egotistical bastard. "Yeah, that’s it, role playing. You’re my target and I’m your assassin. And, let’s see, I’ve been hired by a certain powerful individual, that shall remain nameless, to kill you which will in turn keep you from passing a very damaging piece of legislation."
"Who, a tobacco big-wig?"
"Whatever, Senator. Take your pick I’m sure you have many enemies."
She pointed the gun at him. "Any last requests?"
"Yeah, can I suck your toes?"
She squeezed the trigger three times ZIP, ZIP, and ZAP! Lorcan’s chest exploded just as many times. His head fell to one side, eyes still open.
She stuffed the gun in her pants and grabbed a duffel bag sitting by the door. She opened it to walk out but stopped. She turned to the dead Senator, "stupid mutha’ fucker!" She left his corpse in her wake, locking the steel utility door behind her.
Twenty minutes later, after a modest explosion, several tons of concrete and steel came crashing down.
Three days later, in a remote part of the country thousands of miles from Washington D.C. via fiber op, class one: secured.
Q: Mission Status?
Ebony: Complete.
Q: Liability?
Ebony: Terminated. Payment?
Q: Usual manner.
Ebony: Thank you.
Q: Next assignment?
Ebony: Vacation.
Q: Bonus, six zeros.
Ebony: Vacation?
Q: Did I mention six zeros?
Ebony: Intel?
Q: Usual manner
Ebony: Thank you!
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