The Ashen Horse

She quietly chuckled as she read the morning papers out of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. They had brazen stories about how ‘The Ashen Horse Strikes Again’. She, of course was on the other side of the country having left early the previous morning. The stories reported how the killer had brutalized the two victims. She really thought that was quite unfair, she had been surprisingly efficient and clean in her work. They barely suffered; all things considered. Rumors had it that he deserved three times what he got if half the stories were reliable.

She was sipping a White Chocolate Mocha, with an extra shot of expresso. Her special drink, always with soy and never with whip, made just the right way. It was really a special time in the morning when she simply sat back and enjoyed a perfect cup of bliss. And got to read about her exploits in the local papers. Although her exploits were more and more making national news. That was troublesome, that brought unwanted attention. It was hard to be a covert assassin when the news was tailing her on becoming the most wanted serial killer of the decade.

She could change the way she killed. Enter the modern era of guns and distance murder. But she didn’t want to work that way. It took the humanity out of it. There was a code that she followed, and she wasn’t about to abandon it. Not just because the heat was warming up. She would continue in her methods, at least until she truly had to bend. That wasn’t anytime soon.

As she savored the taste of her coffee, she toggled her encrypted email and began to look at the new employment opportunities. Normally she might wait a week between tasks, but she wanted to deflect suspicions from the last job as soon as possible. If she was going to run the race of the police, she would do it in a manner to truly confuse them.

There were a couple of tempting gigs in Europe apparently. That might really turn the tables on the investigations if they could put them together. Apparently, some president of a various monetary funds said the wrong things and a couple stocks spiraled into the abyss. Now his head was conveniently on the hitlist. She was tempted, it had been quite a while since she had been in Rome. But the time wasn’t right to really reveal that she was an international assassin to the world. Although, it would be obvious if they ever put together the last ten years of her career. That meant she would have to stay in the USA for at least a couple more.

She continued to browse her options until she found the perfect match. Yes, indeed, this was the man. They wanted him killed because he swindled over ten million dollars out of the company’s pension plan. He had done it apparently in twenty thousand-dollar installments, so the contract was for two payments of twenty thousand dollars. She appreciated the humor. She normally worked for more, her talents weren’t cheap, but she liked to do charity work when possible. Might as well save the courts some time and money by eliminating him a more proper way.

He lived in Salt Lake City and managed the fund out of New York City. She was humming to herself as she booked flights to SLC, reserved her hotel room, and rented a car for the week. She checked the local event pages in Salt Lake City and reserved several shows throughout the week and took the time to read the reviews. She also found two conferences relating to some humanitarian efforts and RSVPed both of those events. The one looked interesting, efforts to drill wells throughout Africa, utilizing local workers and farmers to build the economy to continue the work at the next location. Their catch phrase of a ‘long term vision’ really hit home with her sensibilities.

She knew the importance of planning for the future and having a long-term vision. A lot of it came down to having successful and deliberate alibis and reasons for every plane ticket. Another came from making sure that there was plenty of other plane tickets that showed she was not in the cities when crimes took place. This meant she pretty much lived in hotels. She had sold her house two years in when she discovered she hadn’t been home enough to warrant keeping it.

The real game changer had been the rise of Airbnb. She really didn’t need a home anymore. How else could she be enjoying the perfect coffee looking out over the ocean in San Diego, in perfect weather. It was not to last, however. Her flight was in the morning. She would shortly be busying herself getting everything ready for tomorrow’s flight.

The trip was largely uneventful as she landed at SLC and quickly made her way to the hotel. She would be off to scout the area rather quickly. The art of avoiding detection, implication, and capture was always preparation. She had avoided implication for years, and that was because she was always prepared. He apparently lived in the Capitol Hill area of the city, and she was off to plan her entry into his home. It was always easier to take the target when they were at home, asleep. It solved a lot of other uncomfortable situations that were best avoided.

It turned out he didn’t live too far from the Capitol Building, which worked out rather conveniently. There was always good food where politicians congregated. It was always a pity to turn down an exceptional meal. She was grabbing a quick lunch in-between evaluating the neighborhood at Café Shambala. She did enjoy the perks to the work.

A solid plan in place, tomorrow was the night. She normally might plan for several days. Complex jobs may even require a week or two. But this appeared to be a rather easy mission. The house didn’t have any particular security to be concerned with. It looked like the man lived alone, no wife or kids. That was always good. It avoided any collateral damage. Information seemed to indicate that he drank too much of late and would often return home late.

The following morning, she grabbed breakfast at Café on 1st and headed to his house. She waited. A large percentage of this work was waiting. She almost considered going in early and waiting it out inside, but that might leave physical evidence. So, she waited. It was clear he wasn’t going to return before lunch, she grabbed some exceptional Thai. And she waited.

The Uber dropped him off a little past midnight. She was surprised he took a safe route home. Everything about this man implicated he was careless and selfish. She would have sworn he would drive home after a night of drinking. He wobbled toward the front door and that is when she decided there wasn’t a huge need for extra care on this job. She’d just casually knock on the front door and see how that played out.

He opened the door, his eyes growing slightly wide as he saw her. Perhaps it was surprise to see a young woman. Perhaps it was her mystic beauty, cloaked partially unseen. It was hard to say. She looked shocked and out of breath as she quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She had brushed him back when she entered, and he had wobbled back further as she moved in.

He started to ask a question, a hint of lust glimmering in his eyes. As she partially turned toward him the throwing knife left her hand with deadly precision. It took him right in the neck. His hands quickly grasping for his throat. His gurgle was accompanied with her sword pulled from over her shoulder in a smooth motion. Spending only the single pull down to orient it into her hands. The return path of the blade cleanly cut through his lower abdomen up to ribs, where it gracefully exited his flesh. One last swish cut his throat clean to the spinal cord as he collapsed, his eyes already glazing over. He never had time to finish his question.

She stood over the body. It had been clean, well, cleanish. The blood was pooling all over the floor. She quickly recovered her throwing blade and cleaned both weapons on his clothes. Stepping over the body, she quickly searched the house for any obvious valuables that wouldn’t be circumspect. She debated burning the house down, but there were neighbors relatively close and she didn’t want to risk torching the block.

In the den, on the corner of the desk she noticed a couple interesting manila folders. She flipped through them and discovered there were various vacation homes it appeared were prepared for him to inspect and purchase one of them. It definitely looked like he had come into a rather nice piece of money lately. Combing through the drawers of the desk she found a small black notebook. It was smooth and subtle, with a crystal sheen. She paused to admire it in her hands before flipping through it. She quietly chuckled. This looked like detailed information on the money he had stolen from the accounts. What kind of fool would write this down? She carefully pocketed the notebook as she turned to leave the desk.

She had finished in the house, collecting a couple nice pieces of silver and gold jewelry she would melt down. There was one particularly nice piece of art she would have liked to take, but that was simply not in the cards. As she crossed over his body one last time on the way to the door, she carved a strange symbol into his forehead. It was meaningless, but she wanted to keep the cops guessing. Playing the game was becoming as fun as the chase. Cleaning her blade one last time, carefully, she stepped out of the house and into the night.

She had a conference to get to in the morning on drilling wells in Africa in a sustainable fashion. It was the long-term vision that really sparked her interest. Perhaps this could be a game changer for local economies in the region.