Tanned Hide Read Free Page A

name of your own employer?”
    “ Yes, Mr. Weir,” I
confirmed. “Sorry, I’ve been busy.” I eyed the building. The
farthest one on my list. Of course. This wouldn’t be an easy
hit.
    “ Busy doesn’t cut it, son,”
Trecheon said. “You can’t just come and go as you please. I ain’t
running a country club, you know.”
    The code words and phrases bounced
around in my brain. “Son” meant small party – limited witnesses.
Restricted comings and goings meant high inner security. Unwanted
guests would not be allowed in. But it was the use of “country
club” that lifted some hope in my chest. Relaxed guests. No one
suspected anything. No rooftop guards. In other words, no one to
check the bullet’s trajectory and pin it on me, at least not if I
got off the roof fast enough.
    “ Yes, sir,” I said. “When
should I come in next?”
    “ The third,” Trecheon said.
“6PM. I’ve got a hell of a job for you.”
    Shit. Third floor, sixth window from
the right, difficult to see. I checked the window, but I didn’t see
anything. “6PM, sir?”
    “ Hmm, maybe 5PM,” Trecheon
said. “Six might not give you enough time.”
    I checked the fifth window. There she
was. Laughing quietly, sitting in a big plush red chair, drinking a
glass of some variety of mixed drink. Her earrings caught the low
sunlight. “Gotcha.”
    “ Don’t be late,” Trecheon
said. “This is your last chance before I just flat out terminate
you.”
    “ Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” I
double checked my magazine, tested the relative wind speed,
confirmed my math on the Coriolis effect with my phone, and prayed
the window wouldn’t send the bullet tumbling. One ear pointed
forward and one pointed backward, covering all angles. “I’ll be
there.”
    “ You better.” Trecheon hung
up.
    I waited a breath, then squeezed the
trigger.
    The bullet flew, triggering the smoke
bomb and explosion sounds behind me, successfully muffling the
rifle’s report. The glass window disintegrated in my scope, and
found its mark.
    The Matron’s head exploded. Just
exploded. I allowed myself half a heartbeat of disgust and shock
before backing off the rifle.
    Quickly, but calmly, I disassembled
the rifle and packed it up. Grabbing the spent casing, I waved the
smoke away from 42’s AC unit and started the electricity through
it. A second later, the remains of the smoke bomb and sound card
were also packed. I allowed myself a smirk as the unit started up
and then headed for the door.
    My earpiece vibrated. Breathless, I
answered it. “Mr. Weir?”
    “ One more thing, Brett,”
Trecheon said. “Make sure you come okay? You do good work. I’d hate
to lose you.”
    I pressed back the smile building on
my lips. Target eliminated. Magic hit acquired. Now it was just
time to bask in the glory and watch the dominos fall. “Yes,
sir.”

Three
    “ Oh, Neil, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice.” Mom’s
relief was thick, like honey in the ear, even through the phone. “I
was so worried for you when I saw the paper this
morning.”
    I entered my scruffy apartment,
careful not to dislodge the earphone from my ear. Mail in one hand,
a paper in the other, I swung my body around the cheap, particle
board desk that Trecheon had assembled for me last year. I
collapsed into the shredded chair, tossing the paper on the
desk.
    A handsome picture of Matron Fawn
placed next to a censored picture of the crime scene took up the
full top half of the front page. The words “Felicity Fawn, CEO of
Fawn Inc. Murdered” blazed above the pictures. It had been a week
since the hit itself, but I suspected that her presumed mob
affiliation delayed the papers’ reports.
    “ I don’t know why you were
worried, Mom,” I said, sorting through the variety of bills and
junk mail. “It’s not like I would be a target.”
    “ I know, sweetie, but I
also know your business frequently does work downtown,” Mom said.
“You could have been hurt!”
    “ The killer obviously had