Not As Planned

 

By E.B. Burbridge

 

 

            The number popped up on the screen. It had not changed in decades. The boss needed something special. He said Lomac was special; his secret…their secret. Lomac knew nothing about the inner workings of the organization or its people. He had been teased about his appearance, nobody noticed him; average height, weight, looks, except he was quite strong with an above average IQ and resourcefulness.

          “Hello.”

          “Hello, my friend, it’s been a while,” said the raspy authoritarian voice. “How’s our word doing?”

          Lomac hesitated for a second, he almost forgot. “None.”

          “Good, age can change things. This is to be done naturally, Carol Linx.”

          “Okay, soon or what?” Jesus…the DA. That was prohibited, no law enforcement people. Bribes, not hits. “Sir, if you don’t mind me saying so, but isn’t that strictly prohibited?”

          “That’s why I called you. No questions, get it done. This is personal family business. Got it? Info forthcoming…special finance.”

          He closed the phone. “Good.” He needed the money.

*

          So far, the info on Carol Linx was spot on. His experience made entering her apartment not a challenge. Looking around he had nothing but admiration and a touch of envy for her cleanliness and organization. The spotless kitchen and pantry had a special place in his heart. No cameras, no pets, a modest bar and the place smelled good. Her bathroom exceeded CDC standards. You could eat off the floor. Her storage of feminine products was of interest. A toxic tampon came to mind, but he would figure that out later. Maybe a panty shield or toothpaste, but something newer might be appropriate. Going through her bedroom drawers yielded the same set up. There were briefs folded perfectly next to boxer shorts. Strange. The closet the same, men’s pants, shirts, next to dresses and skirts all the same size. Carol Linx had a medium build for a woman. No curves, to speak of, no chest, deduction, Carol Linx was a cross-dresser. It made no difference to him, soon she would be neither. There was a chest of drawers in the back of the walk-in closet. He inspected it closely, no trip wires. The top drawer contained sex toys, but one in particular stood out. An Acme Nuclear Vibrator Dildo, he almost laughed out loud, in the others the usual women porn magazines. He took pictures of everything he needed to research for the job. For good measure he placed a bug that would deactivate after three days next to the bed under the nightstand. He was nosy and loved the sounds of passion. He left as discreetly as he came.

*

          Lomac shredded all the photos of Carol Linx’s place except one: The Acme Nuclear Vibrator Dildo. He giggled, “What will they think of next?” He put down the joint, too much of that would give him the munchies. He googled sex toys. There it was and it cost a fortune. Hers looked new like everything in her place. He zoomed in. God, it looked real. The list of features was extensive: hypo-allergenic, rigidity settings with recessed dial and swiveling head. “You’re kidding,” Lomac laughed. “This is great.” Rising and pulsating veins with your choice of detachable testicles that swing or stationary. He zoomed in, they were fuzzy too. “You’re a freak, Linx.” He picked up his joint and re-lit it. He leaned back and sighed. “With all this stuff what do you need with us, ladies?” All this reminded him of his ex who left him for a dike like Linx. He tried not to think about it, but he could not. It hurt like hell, but he got over it and it was years ago. But he still was going to enjoy this kill. He continued to read; an ejaculatory setting (warm to warmer, hot not available), easy ball refill, shock proof, easy adjusting stand with shock absorbers for heavier users, dishwasher safe with a lifetime warranty (you’ll die before it does) and multi-colored sleeves that are slightly absorbent.

          Bingo! That was it…that’s how he would administer the poison.

          He took a closer look. Hers was already covered. She liked it dark. Good.

*

          Lomac entered the critical part of the operation. He went to the courthouse to make sure she was there. In the newer part of the building, there she was, dressed in a dark blue pants suit that fit her curve-less body, arguing a case before a judge. With the coast clear he made his way to her apartment.

          Spotless as usual except she was in a hurry and left the bed unmade and a half bowl of cereal on the counter. The toy was no longer hidden, but on the dresser. He took out what he called his quick-to-dry, quick-to-die solution and applied it thoroughly. It was harmless until it touched the mucous membrane and there would be plenty of that. He smiled, wishing he could see the look on that dike’s face. The final orgasm. Tonight might also make for good listening and he hurried home.

*

        The life of the bug Lomac planted was nearing its end. He tuned in and heard Linx and whoever going at it. But the guy had a feminine voice during their brief conversation. “I thought you liked the girls?” He asked.

          “Nature forces me at times to seek out the real thing like that monster you got. This is easier than a relationship. Less bullshit. Don’t you agree?”

          “Of course, course…until we meet again.”

          No surprise, Linx had a lesbian air about her, but who was he to judge? He was a killer. Now what was she doing?

          “Hello, can you connect me with Crystal Sicili please, I think she’s in 204. Thank you.”

          So that was the boss’s daughter in the photo on her desk. He just glanced at it, but several other women were in it at a beach somewhere. His twin girls grew up rejecting the family business and left. They had been estranged from the family for decades. He was surprised she didn’t change her name. Did the boss know about them or what? Whatever, mind your own business, Lomac, and get the job done.

          “Hey, Crystal baby. I got a surprise for you. You’ll love it…we both will. I’m headed for Provincetown in the morning. It’s been years since I’ve been to the Pride Festival. See you later.”

          “Oh, shit!” Lomac shouted. That dildo is for the boss’s daughter.

*

          Lomac maintained a cool head. A logical approach to this problem of getting that toy had to be taken. He rushed over to her apartment to stake it out all night, in case she left early. The best way to get it was simply to rob her, but that could lead to being identified and violence.

          He put a tracker under the bumper in case something unforeseen happened and he lost her. He could break into her car if she stopped for whatever reason. But as luck would have it, he had a flat. And then he got a speeding ticket trying to make up for lost time. He tracked her to a gated community. Security was tight, but he was slippery and found a blind spot from the CCTV and got in undetected. He got nervous when too much time went by. The later it got, the more likely one of them would be dead, if not both. He sat on a bench by a water retention pond. He saw Linx leave the building in a hurry with a small suitcase, threw it in the trunk and left. Did she give the toy to the boss’s daughter or what? He left as quickly as he came in. Once over the wall he heard the noise of approaching sirens closing fast. Linx must have called 911. There was no doubt that Crystal Sicili was dead. Now what?  Did she know who she was dealing with? The controversy of a relationship with the daughter of a mob boss would ruin her career not to mention a slow painful death. Little did she know his job was to make it the opposite.

*

          For a week Lomac followed the DA. She rented a modest Airbnb on the other side of Provincetown where she enjoyed the company of numerous likeminded women. The question still remained; did the boss know about his daughter? He had too. No sooner had he answered his own question, than his cell rang. “Hello.”

          “Hello…the word is?”

          “None.” The boss sounded sad.

          “Good. Naturally is no longer required. Your discretion, but slow if possible, and it’s done soon and an extra bonus is guaranteed. Good bye.”

          “Good.” He whispered, that makes it easier.

*

          District Attorney Carol Linx boarded the flight to the Cayman Islands with two of her boxy built friends from Provincetown. So did Lomac, who was at ease now that he could use his favorite type of execution. The bullet to the head. Too bad the boss threw caution to the wind with the council, but that was his business. The flight was full; Linx had not noticed him and neither did her friends. The plane had accelerated to its cruising altitude through a cloudless blue sky when suddenly it shook violently and the starboard engine burst into flames. People screamed and hollered when the plane tilted downward. “Oh, shit, no!” Lomac shouted as he saw the engine and wing break from the fuselage. It continued its dive and Lomac continued to scream with the others.

 

The End

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      E. B. Burbridge has been writing short fiction for years and he has been published in various literary magazines.

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     Bernice Holtzman’s paintings and collages have appeared in shows at various venues in Manhattan, including the Back Fence in Greenwich Village, the Producer’s Club, the Black Door Gallery on W. 26th St., and one other place she can’t remember, but it was in a basement, and she was well received. She is the Assistant Art Director for Yellow Mama.