Double Trouble

Su Lin was a paid killer. Murdering someone was never a pleasant experience, but it was satisfying to the woman with no heart. Rarely was it justified, but she figured when it was, one simply did it and moved on. Actually, Su didn't care one way or the other about her victims. Learning long ago that her journey was temporary at best, it didn't matter that she robbed the breath of people as the money dictated. In her business, everyone was constantly scrambling for a chair before the music stopped.

Hardened by a loveless childhood, she spent most of her adult life grinding axes and settling scores. She was thirty-four but rarely afforded herself a love life. Romantic relationships were like gears in an old pocket watch, she thought. They were always turning, some of the gears small and fast, others, bigger and slower. Some just didn't work at all.


Working as a fortuneteller and medium in her shop downtown, Su Lin was her own boss, capable of moving any way she desired at any hour of the day or night. She kept her body in shape at the gym and jogged a mile every other day. Having a good sense of humor, she could be funny, and then turn serious on a dime, stroke egos and still get her message across, without overtly pushing issues. Su had learned early not to go looking for trouble, yet she possessed a hair trigger when confronted with anyone looking to piss on her shoes.

It was hot and sticky, and Su Lin's red and gold Hilfiger t-shirt stuck to her body like wet Kleenex. She slid out of bed and went to the window. Nudging the drape aside, she gazed pensively at the front yard and street. Her wide, dark eyes seemed to capture every movement around her. She stood in the window and allowed a faint breeze to wash over her while she smelled air that held the fragrance of cut grass. The air was hot. Down the road someone was running a Weed-Eater that sounded like a dentist's drill. She heard the buzzing of bees, attracted by the trilliums and hydrangeas growing at the end of the yard.

Su Lin had coal-black hair and a wide mouth with a petulant lower lip. Her bosom was flatter than she liked, but she was grateful for what she did have. As a child, she imagined herself on the big screen, a real-life movie star. However, that world seemed both unfair and non-supportive. She learned long ago that if you wanted or needed anything at all, you had to work it out one way or another to get it, and even then, there were no assurances.

Maybe she would never be a star, but Su Lin wasn't nearly as incapable as people thought either; certainly not as helpless as her mother would have had her believe. In fact, housed behind her comely face was an intellect far more powerful than anyone could have imagined, and it was coupled with a shrewdness that allowed her to live by her wits.

She hadn't known a father, and her mother, Kin-Su, died nine years earlier. Serious differences had separated them, but Su Lin's mother was candid about her life, undaunted by hangovers and trysts with married men. She chose to laugh in a husky voice about the compulsions that often placed her in a hospital or treatment center. She'd dry out, and by order of the court attend AA meetings for a few weeks and then make love to the scotch bottle for another three or four months before trying rehab again. She ultimately killed herself with Johnnie Walker red before she turned forty. An Asian-American, she survived racism after the war, but her subsequent life had been wobbly; her distrust of men and the human race in general was passed on to Su Lin:

"Your Daddy wasn't a very good man, honey," she told Su Lin. "He didn't bother to hang around for you or me. Just as well, he beat the shit out of me most of the time anyway. I didn't need that. Neither did you. When he decided to go, he left town as fast as he could. Best not to worry about ever seeing him, again."

Su Lin had been self-reliant for most of her life, and that's the way she liked it. She even changed her last name legally in order to eliminate any stigma of her father's.

After her mother died, she moved away from Florida, slid into her unique career, and bought a place in a neighborhood of both old wealth and freshly moneyed families. Most were nestled within the graceful brick, stone and wood-frame structures of late eighteenth and early nineteenth century architecture. Su Lin's house was a bi-level structure--fancier folks might call it a colonial--the kind of place that had three bedrooms, one and a half baths, and a finished basement with a pool table. The expanded outdoor entertainment area included a stone pool house, a spa that could easily accommodate six adults, a roofed-in dining area and a massive oval-shaped pool outlined in brick and flagstone. Casual observers and friends alike, naturally assumed that Su inherited wealth from her mother's will.

Letting the drape fall back in place, Su Lin went down to the kitchen, made coffee and poured a cup. Getting comfortable at the dinette table, she lit a cigarette and stifled a yawn. A few minutes later, the ringing phone startled her. She checked her watch. Almost four P.M. She wanted to be at the shop in two hours. She snatched up the receiver:

"Hello."

"Su Lin?"

"Yeah."

"It's Gary. Can you talk?"

"Yeah, I just got up, but go ahead. Long time since you called."

"Okay, well, the word is somebody's got a mark out on you." He lowered his voice as if someone might overhear the conversation. Su Lin giggled.

"Says who, Gary? Sounds like the bullshit machine is working overtime again."

"Mmmm. Maybe. But, hey, don't take it too lightly, girlie. This stuff comes from a reliable mouth. You take up with Piranha fish, don't expect them to go on a diet, Lu Lu."

"I love it when you say things to make me feel like my ass is on upside down, Gary. So, who's paying and why? Did your mouth say? We've heard this shit before, you know."

"Aahh. I hear it's got something to do with that Weinstein job a few months back, but hell, I don't know. I'm not telling you to crawl under a rock, Su, but watch your pretty ass for awhile 'till we track things down. Know what I mean?"

"Got it. Is that it?"

"All for now. Isn't that enough? But, I might have a deal coming up before the first, though. Over in Norfolk. You interested?"

"Yeah, call me if you hear anymore, okay? I have to work tonight by the way. I won't be home, but you know how to reach me if you have to."

"Of course. Meantime, you lay low, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Bye, Gary."

Su Lin padded into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. "God," was all she could manage to say. Her hair was matted flat, her face a mess, and her brain felt like cement. Such a pleasant way to begin a day. She pulled her thick black hair straight back, tried a bun, but then knotted a French braid. Not satisfied with either of these looks, she finally piled her thick tresses on top and secured them with a bunch of bobby pins.

Her left eyebrow hiked as she mentally rehashed her conversation with Gary. Although she didn't let on to him, she was actually shocked. A full minute passed as numbing thoughts of betrayal swirled through her mind like confetti in a parade. Who in the hell wants me dead?


________*****________


On his way to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, Max Crockett rolled down the highway at precisely the speed limit. No sense in getting stopped for a heavy foot. His parole limited his travel to Alabama, so he was in violation already, but Max had decided long ago to take chances.

The air conditioning was broken in the fourteen-year-old Chevy, using it merely caused the slow movement of muggy air from left to right. Sweat trickled down his face, staining his shirt collar. With the windows down, the heat struck Max like a hand in the face. Not as bad as Alabama heat, but dense and sticky, smelling of burned transmission fluid, spoiled fruit, and bubble gum. He had been driving for six hours and was glad night was near. Soon the sun would drop and he might be able breathe again. He thought about the job he'd been paid for. His holstered Glock 9mm vibrated on the seat next to him. He touched it with his right hand, felt the coolness of the steel, the hardness of the grips against his skin.

I'll get this done and get the hell out of Dodge before the sun comes up. Should be a snap. I may not even need the Glock. Broads are easy. The deal is don't let the bitch scream if possible. It can get dicey if she shrieks. You just won't allow that, will you Maxey?

Max had been a wild one, who liked it all: money, women, gambling, cocaine and reefer and Saturday night fights in the gravel parking lots outside country road-houses. He had done time for armed robbery, but he never did pay for any killing.

He was good at what he did. Learning that the majority of murderers and other felons were usually uneducated or scared, or simply drugged-out punks or drunks terrified of their own shadows when off the needle or bottle, but so brave when they were high. They left many clues behind and were usually caught, or turned themselves in. Some were ratted out by their "friends." None of that pertained to Max -- he was a professional. It was all about education and implementation. He would be back to Birmingham before anyone realized he'd left, he thought.

Max's skin was chestnut brown and smooth. Squat and heavily built, with thinning gray hair, he had a tanned face scored with deep tracing of lines at the eyes and mouth, like whorls of a fingerprint. His was a thick face with eyes too closely spaced, a bony nose marked by enlarged pores and thin, pale-pink lips. His shoulders were somewhat rounded and therefore he appeared as though he was constantly leaning forward. He had hands the size of dinner plates and the stitched scar through his eyebrow was a cosmetic distraction from the physical confidence in his face. A hand-made silver earring, big as a wedding ring, hung from his left earlobe.

Pulling a cigarette from his shirt-pocket, Max lit up, and tried his best to relax despite the humidity and constant flow of adrenaline he always felt before a job. Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, he took a long, slow drag on the cigarette, hit scan on the radio and found "Light My Fire" by The Doors.


___________*****__________


By the time Su Lin got home from work, it was three in the morning.
She parked her BMW in the driveway, clicked the remote, locking the doors.
Going to the side door she put her key in the lock but found it unlocked. She briefly hesitated, the keys in her hand. Something's wrong.

Reaching inside her handbag, Su Lin wrapped her fingers around her .45 automatic. It was loaded, always. She chambered a round before she turned the knob and shoved the door open with her foot. As she entered, she swept the pistol abruptly to the right and then the left. The only light was the small one above the kitchen sink that she always left on. Su Lin skirted through the bottom floor of the house, deliberately checking every room and closet, at the same time holding her gun straight out in front of her, ready to fire at the first thing that moved. Even in her world of ultra-sophisticated peek-a-boo, this was odd. She started to turn on the light and then paused as a sound above her head caught her attention. Upstairs.

Who in the hell is in my house? She went back into the hallway and finding everything clear, she slowly climbed the stairs. Her bedroom door was open as she always left it. She darted into the room with pistol still raised and sweeping to the left and right.

Su Lin felt the blood rush through her ears, all senses elevated, the same way they were when she stalked her targets. Her own pulse bursting in her eardrums. Reality swept over her like a fire raging through a paper house. Her sense for the kill became absolute when the soft sound of footsteps reached her. And then, a loop of thick cord was around her neck, pulled tight, and Su Lin's breath was suddenly gone; her gun fell to the floor.

Max wore dark clothing, a ski mask pulled over his face. He was fully behind her. He had watched from the darkness beside the dresser and then struck. The cord had a piece of wood attached to it and Max was winding it tighter and tighter. Su Lin's face was turning blue; her senses were slipping away as the cord dug deeply into the skin of her neck.

She tried to punch the assailant but it was too awkward, her fists flailed helplessly, sapping away what remaining strength she had. She kicked at him, but he was too quick and dodged those blows as well. She dug at the rope with her strong fingers but it was so imbedded in her skin that there was no space left to get a grip.

Max felt her giving way, her vaunted strength almost gone. He yanked on the cord harder and harder.

"Die, bitch. Just give in to it. It's so easy. Just do it. You know you want to," he hissed.

Su Lin's eyes were close to erupting out of their sockets now, her lungs almost dead. She felt as though she was deep under water; she would give anything to take one breath, just one long drink of air. As she listened to those taunting words, she wished she had taken Gary's call more seriously.

From the corner of her blood-filled right eye she saw her gun. At that very moment and from a place so deep that Su Lin never even knew she possessed it, there came a rush of strength so unbelievably powerful that it almost knocked her over. With a shriek, she jerked upright and then bent forward, lifting an astonished Max completely off the floor in the process. She clamped her arms around his legs so she was carrying him piggyback style. Then she exploded backward, her legs pumping like a long jumper about to erupt into flight until she slammed Max violently into the heavy dresser against the wall. The sharp wooden edge caught him dead on the spine.

"Aahhh!" He screamed in pain but held on to the cord. Su Lin reached up and dug her fingernails into his hand. Max screamed again. "You lousy bitch!" This time he let go of the cord. Feeling the rope go lax, Su Lin whipped her torso forward and Max went flying over her shoulders and crashing into a mirror hanging on the wall.

Su Lin staggered drunkenly around in the middle of the room sucking in huge amounts of air. She reached up to her throat and yanked off the cord. Then her eyes settled dead center on the man.

Max grabbed at his injured back and struggled to stand up. It was too little too late, and with a guttural scream Su Lin pounced. She flattened him to the floor and pinned him there. Her legs clamped against his, immobilizing them. At the same time, she snatched the mask off of his head.

"Fuckin' bastard!" she screamed. Her hands encircled his throat and now his face started to turn blue. He looked into her blood-filled eyes, red with burst capillaries from her near strangling, and he knew there was no way he could ever break her choke hold. His hands groped the floor as she continued to squeeze the life out of him. A series of visions proceeded across his mind, but there was no rush of strength to accompany it. His body started to go limp. His eyes rolled in their sockets, his neck constricted to the breaking point under the ever-increasing pressure. His fingers finally closed around a bit of glass from the shattered mirror and held. He swung it upward, catching her in the arm, cutting through her clothing and into her skin. She didn't release her grip. He cut her again and then again but to no avail. She was beyond pain; she would simply not let go.

Finally, with the last bit of strength he had left, his fingers felt under her arm and pressed as hard as he could. Suddenly, Su Lin's arm went dead as Max found the pressure point and her grip was abruptly broken. In an instant, he had pushed her off and sprinted across the room, gasping for breath. He tried to snatch up her gun but Su Lin was one step ahead of him. Her leg flew up and caught Max, who had strayed a little too close, directly in the crotch. He bent down, groaning. Then he stared at her as though she had just been hatched from an egg.

Su Lin reached down and grabbed her gun, quickly aimed for his head and fired two rounds. The first one missed and shattered the wall behind him. He lunged for her and her second round hit under his eye and blew a chunk of his head off. Blood, flesh,and brain shot out, some spattered her as she jerked away.

Staring at the dead man on the floor, Su Lin backed up and sat on the edge of the bed. She turned the lamp on next to the nightstand. The absolute silence after firing her gun was deafening. Her arm was bleeding badly. She grabbed a towel she'd left on the bed and wrapped it. Jesus Christ!

All killers know when you point a gun at another human being there's a terrible adrenaline-fed sense of control and arrogance that you feel at that moment and the secret pleasure you take in the opportunity given you. Su Lin felt good. No remorse. Instead, she wondered who he was. Who hired him? Why?

She'd never had to kill on her own turf. I could tell the truth. The asshole had broken into my house, hadn't he? But then there would be too many questions, wouldn't there? Su Lin knew she couldn't afford an investigation anywhere near her. Never had. Never would. She couldn't allow herself to think any further.

She knelt down beside the body, taking care to stay out of the blood pool. She searched his front pockets. Car keys, change, and a roll of LifeSavers -- that was it. She flipped him over on his stomach and found a wallet in his back pocket. Standing up, she went back to the bed, put the gun down, and inspected the wallet under the light. The Alabama driver's license said he was Wayne M. Crockett. Crockett? Really? Initial M? Could that stand for Maxwell? A chill ran through Su Lin's entire body. Goosebumps. She studied the license. His picture was of the guy on the floor, alright. This bastard is my father?

Max had blown into her life like an exploding torpedo. First time he shows up in over twenty-nine years and he comes to kill me? She almost felt like laughing.

There were days when reality shoved her dreams sideways. Days when anger, confusion, and frustration crossed her features. But this? She almost shrieked as she thought about the reality of the situation. For an instant, her mother's face appeared in her thoughts. Tears glimmered for the briefest time in her dark eyes.

"I'm sorry Momma, I didn't have any choice." None of us know, when we open our eyes in the morning, whether we will have the chance to close them at day's end to sleep or have them shut forever.


Su Lin wanted to cry for some reason, although she didn't understand why. She hadn't made allowance for tears, particularly her own.


"I need to know who sent you," she whispered to the man on the floor.








.