The thing about being recruited into a secret organization of international assassins is that you expect it to happen when you’re twenty, not when you’re forty. And you definitely don’t expect it to happen when you’re not military or ex-military, but in fact, a recently divorced trophy-wife with a settlement that’s embarrassing to mention among people who have to work full time, but almost criminally small compared to what Randolph could have afforded. Granted, I was still in great shape. I’d been on track to a life of professional tennis when I met Randolph and let him sweep me off the court and into a whirlwind affair, ill-advised prenup, and marriage.
As my recruiter explained, it’s not all about stealthing like a ninja, aerial acrobatics, and sneaking into expensive high-rise windows so you can avoid the bodyguards at the door. Some jobs require more subtlety. Information shared among high-rollers that they won’t talk about to a stranger, no matter how young and hot he or she is. Because they’re not all stupid, our targets. Sure, some are. Some were just born into money and think they earned it. But some are sociopaths, paranoids, evil geniuses even, who aren’t going to be tripped up by a little pillow talk.
But this story isn’t about me. It’s about Rock, my current target. Rock is her code name, probably inspired by the size of the diamonds she wears. Rock seems, well, if I’m being honest, a lot like I used to. Pretty. Vapid. Not a thought in her head that her high roller husband didn’t put there. None of it’s true. The truth is, she’s the brains behind an opium smuggling operation worth billions. What’s wrong with a little opium, I can hear you asking. Nobody’s forcing anybody to take drugs. Not true, actually. The girls and boys that are trafficked into sex slavery for Rock’s biggest clients are often hooked.
The insidious thing about Rock’s product is the alchemy. You get a little bit, and that’s it. You’re done. You’re hooked in a way that no 12-step program is going to get you out of. No, it’s going to take at least a hedge witch, and those aren’t so easy to come by in the big city. So, you end up going from being in debt to Rock, to being in debt to some opportunistic alchemist who’d going to make you pay everything you own for the cure. Or you can engage in a blood debt, and hook your kids and grandkids for the debt.
May be used for any purpose, without attribution.