Banjo & Cross
an excerpt

Chapter 23
I knew that this meeting was going to be very important, and I took the time to prepare for any eventuality. I didn't know what the Buyers would do, and was a little on edge as I got ready for what I expected to do once I got there.
I had purchased, at great cost and trouble, a very good poison. This had been used by the soviet assassins for years, but had not been available in the United States. Getting it here had taken several months, but now that I had my hands on it, I had to be very careful. This was a poison that entered through your skin, and caused death within minutes, or even seconds if the dose was high enough.
I was going to make sure the dose was sufficient. I wanted no time for them to try to hurt me, to call out for help, to use their cell phones, heck not even time to take a last breath.
I got a big pot, and filled it with hot water and the small vial of poison that I had acquired. I was wearing my rubber gloves, a work shirt with long sleeves that I would soon discard, and had a face mask over my mouth and nose. No time to take chances, I figured. No reason to kill myself because I was just clumsy. It would not do for me to end up as the final victim, although I guess there would be some poetic justice in it.
Before soaking the gloves, I had sewn some small barbs into the palms, barbs that would readily absorb the liquid in the pot, but that I manually fill with a more pure version of the poison just before I left. They were very small, smaller even than the little BBs I had played with as a child. Something that would not readily be seen, but that packed the punch I would need.
I loaded three small single dose diabetic syringes as well, just in case. These were placed into a plastic bag, and then into a small metal box that I would carry in my pocket. I made sure everything was clean, so that the chances of contamination, or contact with my skin, would be next to zero.
Unless God wanted me to go, this would be all about their departure today, not mine.
When everything was ready, I changed my clothes, throwing all the ones I had worn to prepare the poison into a garbage bag, tied tightly, and then placed into another plastic grocery bag for me to carry to the dumpster outside. I wasn't one to allow collateral damage, so I had to be sure no one else could accidently get hurt.
I had purchased new clothes for this hit. I put them on slowly, enjoying the unusual feeling of new clothes on my skin. It felt nice, something I could certainly get used to.
I put the killer gloves into a bag using some tongs, which were then placed into the bag with my discarded clothes. I went outside to the dumpster, got rid of the bag, and then slowly put on my gloves. I had decided this was the best idea, so I wouldn't leave any residue on the door knob, or anywhere inside.
First I put on rubber gloves, the thin surgical kind, that would protect well but give me good flexibility. Being a little but anal with this final hit, I wore two gloves on each hand, and then carefully put the real winter gloves that I would wear over the top. I bought the gloves a little large, knowing they would have to cover these layers carefully to look natural.
I started toward the park, being careful to keep my hands out of my pockets, and away from my face. No accidents. This was important, and I was a professional. No mistakes. I had one more task to perform to clean up this city, and it had to be done right.

I got the the park at about quarter to one, and sat on a bench behind the one where the men were expected to sit. I wanted to see them arrive, to see if there was any preparation on their part that might be detrimental to my health, or my life.
Nothing special happened. They just came from the direction of downtown, walked across the grassy parkland, and sat together on the bench. Two men.
Only two men. Where was the third?
I waited until four minutes after one, and then approached.
"I thought there were three of you?" I said.
The men looked up at me in tandom, as if they were part on an underwater polo team. One was tall and lean, dark hair and hard, dark eyes. He wore all black, even his shoes, and sat on the left. The man on the right was something I could only describe as normal. Both men were probably in their mid-forties or early fifties, but this man was certainly not showing it as well. His hair was almost all gray, his beard scruffy. He wore jeans, nice jeans, no holes or tears, the bottoms hemmed cleanly without any wear, and sported a pleasant plaid shirt, colored with dark green and black patterns.
The man in black answered. "Our third partner is ill today, and cannot make the meeting. I hope you will be able to forgive him, and be happy with what we can provide."
I was angry, and I'm sure it showed on my face at first. But I tried to compensate quickly with a big smile. "Of course, I understand that sort of thing."
"Would you like to sit with us?" asked the man with the gray hair.
"No, this won't take long." I walked over to him, and stretched my hand forward to shake his. Tentatively, and very slowly, he raised his hand. And took mine. Tightly. As I hoped he would do.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I have been wanting to thank you both for giving me the opportunity to make a difference in this city."
I let go of his hand, and reached to shake the hand of his partner. The man in black took my hand, and leaned forward, expecting a kiss for himself. He didn't want it on the cheek, though. I hesitated a second, thinking about how quickly the poison would be in his blood. How quickly it would get to his lips, and possibly cause me harm. I thought it would be safe, so I kissed him full on the mouth.
It was a nice kiss, actually. Too bad he was the enemy.
"So," said the first man, certainly jealous with the attention his partner was getting. "Is that all you wanted?"
"No, not completely. I wanted to let you know that I think I need to retire. The hits have run their course, the last one being due today. If I go on, I'll need a new MO, and I'm getting kind of old to keep up this pace. I wanted to see if that would be alright with you."
"We were thinking the same thing," said the man in plaid. "You have been the most consistent person we've ever worked with. And certainly," he looked at his partner, the kiss still on his lips, "the first one that has given us a kiss."
"Is there somewhere you would like to live?" asked the man in black. "We have made arrangements to get you anywhere you'd like to go."
"Anywhere?"
"Yes. The only catch is that you naturally forget all that has happened, and keep your money out of site."
Safron looked at them both as she thought. There were a lot of places she'd like to go. "Can I take my family with me?"
"What family?" asked the plaid man, worry starting to crinkle his brow. "I thought you were an independent."
"I am. But over the years, I've made some friends that I don't really want to leave behind."
"I don't think that is possible." The man in black was obviously the muscle in the pair, the plaid man more of the negotiator. I didn't really need to continue this conversation, I knew, but I wanted to see how far I could push them before they realized what was really happening.
"So my only option is to go alone."
"Yes." He answered as if his answer was final, but the other man put his hand on the bare arm of his companion and started to protest.
"Well, maybe," he said, looking at the other man. "Perhaps we could work something out for one additional passenger, but that would have to be all. Do you have a place in mind?"
What was the most outrageous place I could ask for? "How about Alaska?"
Both men started to nod their heads, glad that I was finally acting the way they expected. I didn't expect a lot more, figuring that the whole purpose of this episode was to get me somewhere and get rid of me. Of course they would take a close friend. It made loose ends easier to clean up. If I had talked to a close friend, one I was close enough to that I'd want to take them along, there could be a leak otherwise.
"And my friend can go?"
They looked at each other for a moment, and then both turned to look at me, some nonverbal clue allowing them to agree.
"Of course."
They looked at each other again. The man in plaid was starting to look a bit listless, like his vision was maybe blurred. He shook his head, trying to clear his view. He leaned back, and started breathing more deeply. The other man looked at him, tried to ask what was wrong, but couldn't get the words out.
He looked at me, suddenly panicked. The man in plaid was starting to slump, the breath coming harder and louder each time it went in or came out. He tried to stand, tried to reach for me, but I backed up a few steps, and he slumped back onto the bench.
He stared at me, his voice silent, his eyes asking, "Why?"
"You guys have had me on a string for almost fifteen years. There are two things that could come out of this meeting. Either I have to get rid of you, so you can't say anything about who the Cross really is. Or you have to get rid of me, so no one ever finds out who has been finding these hits. You came here with one option in mind, but I tend to disagree."
The plaid man's head was now lolling back on the back of the bench seat, spittle drooling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were still open, but they no longer moved. The other man, face still a mixture of panic and anger, was fairing a little better, but wouldn't be for long.
"I hope you enjoyed that kiss," I said. "Haven't you seen any of the old mafia or assassin movies? The kiss always goes to the hit. You I wanted to hit really bad, so you got the best kiss. Your buddy here," I motioned to his inert partner, "was just doing his job, so he got the typical kiss on the cheek."
The man's eyes had started to tear, droplets of salty water racing down his face and dropping into his lap. Then his head started to fall forward, and then jerked back. Finally, with one final look at me, his head fell forward and he was done.
I waited a few minutes, looked around the park for anyone who might be watching. No one seemed to be around, so I put these two into position for my last time.
Since they were both seated, and still mostly upright, I didn't have a lot of moving to do. I moved their arms up onto the back of the bench, as if they were stretching, enjoying a pleasant afternoon in the park with a friend. Well, maybe a little more intimate, since they were side by side; they ended up with one arm out, and the other wrapped around their partner.
I crossed their legs at the ankles, and then put their heads into a position that looked more natural.
Finally, I realized that I was finished. I was now retired, and had gotten the pension that I wanted from these jerks of bosses. They had never done anything specifically to me, but all the lives they had played God with made me cringe. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who ever did work for them.
But I had to hurry. I remembered the note I had sent to the detectives, and knew they would be arriving soon. Too late, but soon enough to call this case a victory, the perps here on the bench, dead and no longer able to attack the innocent victims... well, not so innocent victims ... that they had prayed on for so long.
I know, I had something to do with it as well. But I was going to make it up in other ways.
I pulled the tainted gloves off, and placed them in the lap of the plaid man. I took off the outside pair of rubber gloves, and put them in a close by trash can.
Using the last pair of rubber gloves, I took an enveloped note from my pocket and left it in the man in black's lap. A quick note for the detectives.
Then I walked back to the room I had rented, took off all my clothes and the last set of gloves, put them all in another plastic bag, and got in the shower. It had been a long time, and the water felt warm and wonderful as it cleaned the grime and last fifteen years from my now aging body.
At last I got out, dried with a large hotel towel, and got dressed in my old street clothes. On the way out, heading for downtown, I dropped the bag in another dumpster, and started to whistle.
But I still wondered where the third man was.