"Am I right or what?" Dani asks as I stare at the photo. I just nod. It's hard not to drool as I take in Isaac Diaz, one of my multi-million dollar targets. With his deep blue eyes, dark brown hair, tattooed arms, and short scruffy beard, I'd be lying if I said he isn't one of the hottest men I've ever seen.
"Maybe I could at least bang him before he dies. You know, take one for the team?" She grins.
"As tempted as I am to fight you over a romp in the sack with him, you know we don't mix business with pleasure." I take the envelope from her.
"You also said you don't make contracts, yet here we are," she mumbles.
"Well, fifteen million dollars is a pretty compelling argument for bending the rules a bit," I retort. I flip Isaac's photo over to read the handwriting scrawled on the back.
According to the notes, Isaac was born on October 31st, 2020 making him twenty-four—about one year younger than me. He's resided in Colombia his entire life with Diego Diaz—his uncle and my second target. The two of them live in the general Cartagena area. I shuffle his photo to the back of the thin stack of papers and move on Diego's picture. He's forty-nine and handsome in a similar way to Isaac except his eyes are brown, his hair is black, and he's obviously older. I ruffle through the remaining papers and find nothing but two plane tickets, a map of Cartagena, and hotel accommodations.
Smith did not give me much information to go on so I'll have to run recon for a few days before making my move. I need to know where my targets live, how closely they adhere to their routines, how frequently they go in and out of their living quarters, and any and every other detail that could possibly be relevant.
When I decide the time is right to act, the last thing I want is any surprises. To my targets' great misfortune, I am a master at obtaining information on people who don't want to be found.
I shove the papers back into the envelope and stow it in my jacket pocket as we walk through the mist back to our hotel. This wasn't what I was expecting when we showed up for the exchange, but I'm certainly not disappointed in the prospect of a fifteen million dollar payout. It's disconcerting to be locked into a contract, but I've dealt with far worse than Smith.
I've dealt with the boogeyman.
•••
"Okay, esta es tu parada señoras," our Uber driver calls over his shoulder.
"Gracias," I reply as I push my door open. I step onto the sunny cobblestone street and reach into the trunk of the vehicle, handing Dani her suitcase before grabbing mine. We step onto the curb, and I raise my eyebrows, taking in our temporary home. The hotel is four stories tall, covered in chipping graffiti paint, and crammed in between two other worn down buildings. I grimace when I notice there isn't a closed window in the building. Given our proximity to the equator, it seems crazy to live without air conditioning, but beggars can't be choosers. I'd endure far worse than no A/C for fifteen million dollars.
"Well this looks fun," Dani mutters behind me.
"It's certainly off the radar," I state, crossing the sidewalk to pull open the front door to the hotel. I approach the concierge desk and exchange a few words in Spanish with the young girl checking us in. She smiles and hands me our room key, gesturing towards a side door that we discover leads to a rusting outdoor staircase.
As we painstakingly make our way up the steps, I pray that the interior of the building is in better shape than its exterior. We reach the fourth-floor landing and make our way to our room, suitcase wheels clicking across thatched, red Spanish tiles bleached by the sun. I unlock and push open the white painted door, resignedly taking in the bleak room. Scuffed white walls, questionable white sheets, dirty white floor tile; it's like the worst shades of white all came together in this room. I sigh as I flop my bag onto one of the twin sized beds, and a small mushroom cloud of dust drifts into the air.
I scrunch my nose and open the room's sole window to flush out some of the stagnant air. The humid heat outside does not provide much relief, but I need some sort of circulation if I'm to have any hope of sleeping over the coming days or weeks.
"So when can this recon start?" Dani asks, futilely attempting to brush a layer of dust from the quilt on her bed.
"It starts right now." I rifle through my bag for Smith's envelope and then withdraw the map, splaying it out on the bed's sheets. Dani walks over, and I point to the red circle I drew earlier that day, indicating a clump of buildings where I suspect Diego and Isaac reside.
While Dani was passed out on the long plane ride over, I perused the chat rooms of the dark web where the most useful intelligence tends to accumulate. From the information I gathered, I was able to narrow our search to a circumference of about ten blocks.
"There's a cafe in the middle of this cluster of buildings, so let's get some food and start there," I say, and Dani nods.
"Sounds good," Dani replies, changing her jeans for a pair of denim shorts. "And Blair? After we get this fifteen million dollar payout, we should seriously consider taking a permanent break."
"What if I don't want to take a break because I like my job?" I counter, changing into a pair of black denim shorts as well. It's far too hot and muggy here to wear anything else.
"You're a fucking assassin. It's not like you're saving the whales." Dani turns to face me, her arms folded across her chest.
I shrug, refusing to take the bait. "Once this contract is over, you can go home, and I'll start taking clients alone."
Dani rolls her eyes and grabs onto my forearm to turn me to face her. "That's not what I'm saying, B. I've agreed to all of this just as much as you have, and I'm not leaving you to fend for yourself. You can't go into the AP without me for backup. Someone's got to be ready with the epinephrine in case Orias comes back."
"We don't even know if the epinephrine theory will work," I refute.
"Well, it's better to have that as an option than to be stranded in the AP with no way out."
I take a deep breath and nod, secretly relieved that she isn't going to jump ship. Even though I know she wants nothing more than to go home, Dani won't leave me to astral-project without a failsafe.
My body is distinctly vulnerable when I astral-project. Unless I am near my physical body in the AP, waking me up is next to impossible. Because of this, Dani engraved synced-up digital watches that we both wear so she can track my heart rate for any random spikes. She even built an emergency button for me to tap while I'm in the AP to alert her if needed. Her theory is that she can use liquid adrenaline to forcefully yank my astral body back to my physical one as a last resort in case I hit the emergency button and need to be woken up.
Of course, that is pure speculation. We've never had to use the adrenaline before so we have no idea if it works or not. We know that the emergency alert system on our watches works, but casually injecting myself with epinephrine to see if our theory is viable is dangerous. There's really no point in dragging Dani to the ends of the earth for a backup plan that may or may not actually work.
It's been fifteen years since I encountered Orias. Even if he does show up again, I'm far more capable of defending myself now. I was just a kid the last time he materialized in my life, so my fear of him was amplified by my immaturity and irrationality. I understand where Dani is coming from and how much stress this portion of my life causes her, but I can't give up astral-projecting. I won't give it up, not for her or anyone else.
I don't want to do this alone, but if I have to, I will.