Diary of a Hitwoman (Part 2)

There were no major criticisms of including a story and some people wrote in to say they liked it, so here is Part 2. Here are a few bits of information regarding the story.

The 'whodunnit' element of the story is introduced at around Part 4.
The ladies name is revealed around Part 7!
To keep interest I have included a few scans which would be hard finding a suitable categorization elsewhere. Some are thumbnails and some full size.
Because the scans are from different and diverse sources don't expect much continuity where faces or other recognisable attributes are displayed particularly with regard to the heroine (or should that be anti-heroine).

PART 2 - THE BODYGUARDS

Monday PM... The same day.

The Parisian restaurant was crowded and obviously very exclusive. A strange place for them to meet but then again where is a normal place to discuss the business she was in? She was immaculately dressed for the occasion and could feel the weight of the stares from the male diners as they were ushered to their table.

"Here is the dossier. His name is Albert Delôn and getting to him won’t be easy" he said.

Friday PM... The same week.

As it happened getting to know Mr. Delôn was not such a problem. He was, she decided, vain and extremely arrogant. Just the kind of man she hated. Snaring him had been easy once they had accidentally bumped into each other at the night club. The difficult part was picking the moment for the coup de grace. The dossier had told her that he was a rising star in the Parisian underworld but she had not expected the 2 bodyguards who accompanied him to be in such close attendance all of the time. It was a good job that tonight was just a reconnaissance mission. Phillippe and Gérard had made a thorough job of checking her purse and person for anything untoward before allowing her into the room alone with their boss. Like their boss the two men were immaculately dressed and groomed and were the epitome of politeness and French charm. She had, however, now been in the business long enough to sense how dangerous and violent these men could be if the need arose. ‘Yes I’ll have to take care of them as well’ she thought to herself.

Albert Delôn handed her the drink she had requested and moved closer to her on the sofa. His breath was warm on her and the expensive aftershave had obviously been reapplied during his absence in the bathroom.

‘Not tonight but soon’ she whispered to him.

Friday AM... One Week later.

Her contact had been on to her again. Apparently the contract had to be completed tonight or the whole deal was off. She hated being rushed but she knew she was taking too long. Even though she had seen Albert nearly every night for the past week Phillippe and Gérard were still meticulous about searching her for hidden weapons. Well she had tried to be subtle about this task but if they wanted the job done tonight then she would need to change her plan of attack. She picked up the phone and dialed the number ‘Albert, I must see you tonight, I’m going to deliver on my promise’.

Friday PM... The same day.

She looked stunning. She had spent hours on her appearance. If this plan was going to work the two bodyguards must have absolutely no inkling of her true intentions. Every hair was in place, her nails were finely manicured and every drop of makeup immaculately applied. The designer gown she was wearing might prove to be a hindrance but this was more than compensated for by the element of surprise her looks would give her.

Trigger Happy Albert Delôn lived in a huge and opulently furnished house in one of the most exclusive suburbs of Paris. Each room was tastefully decorated and more importantly, from her point of view, had very thick wooden doors. There could be World War III going on in there and nobody would be any the wiser she mused. Just as well because by the time they had found the bodies it would look like World War III had taken place.

She entered the house as arranged and as usual Phillippe and Gérard were there, at the base of the huge stairway She couldn’t help but notice the knowing looks and sly smiles they gave one another.

‘So you think you know why I am here’ she thought to herself. ‘Well very soon you’ll have to think again’.

She walked smartly towards the men, the gun concealed within the folds of the fur stole she had wrapped around her neck.

‘I am sorry Mademoiselle but you know the routine’ said Phillippe, the larger of the two men.

‘Of course’ she said and gave him the broadest and most disarming smile she could muster. Her left hand which had been holding the Gucci handbag suddenly seemed to lose its grip and the bag dropped to the floor. Gérard, as French and as gallant as ever, immediately leant down to retrieve it for her. In an instant her right hand emerged from behind the folds of her stole, gun clenched in her petite palms. The trick with the bag gave her the element of surprise and the vital few seconds she knew she would need in dealing with the two men. Gérard’s head was level with her gun and the two point blank shots left him prostrate and lifeless on the marble floor.

For a moment Phillippe was dumbfounded. For a second the sudden attack had left him unsure what to do. Then, realizing what was going on, he reached into his evening jacket to get his gun.

‘You are dead if you do that’ she said simply. The sight of her coolly pointing her gun at him made up his mind for him and his hand retreated from the direction of the jacket pocket. She briefly remembered the smirk on his face he always had when he intimately searched her each time she had seen Albert.

‘Mind you, you are dead if you don’t’ and with that she pulled the trigger three times. Phillippe fell to the floor. She retrieved the handbag from Gérard’s dead fingers and reloaded from the bullets stored within it. She couldn’t be sure but Albert would probably be waiting for her in his bedroom. That was situated to the rear of the house with several heavy doors between the stairs and his room. It was a fair bet that he hadn’t heard the commotion going on downstairs.

TO BE CONTINUED