Ken Douglas - Death Glitch

“ Amy has a twin.”

“ No she doesn’t!”

“ Not a sister. A cousin, at least I think she’s a cousin. She’s also named Isadora. They’re identical, except for the eyes. Amy’s are blue, the cousin’s are brown. I want her, too, same way, drugged up and hands cuffed behind her back. I believe they’ll be together, so if you find one, you’ll find the other.”

“ Two of them,” Lila said. “That’s going be harder.”

“ And that’s why I’m paying you double your usual fee for the cousin as well.”

“ You’re being very generous, Mansfield.”

“ These women took something from me.” He met Lila’s eyes straight on. Like him, she could spot a liar. “Now I’m going to take something from them.” He wasn’t lying, he was going to take something from them, something precious. “Can you do this for me?”

“ Yes.”

Lila Booth’s liar radar was on full alert. He wasn’t lying to her. However, he wasn’t telling her the whole truth either, but he was offering too much money for her to decline. He probably knew that.

She preferred dealing in death. Dead people don’t testify. Still, she was confident she could find the girls and complete her mission in short order, thanks to the GPS tracker she’d put on Amy Eisenhower’s car. Its software was linked to Google Earth, so a couple minutes on her computer when she got home and she’d have Amy pinned down. And if the girls were together, as Mansfield said they would be, then all she had to do was round them up.

“ And to make your job easier, I have a gift for you.” Mansfield got up from the table, went to an antique hutch, opened the cabinet, took out a wooden box. He brought it to the table. “The box is teak. I had it made to house a special weapon.” He gave her a grin, not like the smile he’d favored her with earlier. This was his getting even grin, she’d seen it before and she was afraid of it.

He opened the box.

“ This is an X-2 Gauged CO2 pistol.” He was holding the pistol and looking at it the way a mother might a newborn. “It’s made out of 6061 machined aluminum, so it’s tough and reliable and it’s the best dart pistol money can buy.”

“ It looks like Han Solos’ blaster.”

“ Maybe, but this blaster doesn’t kill. It shoots a tranquilizing dart.” He reached back into the teak box, brought out a couple darts. “These babies are loaded with five cc’s of Ketamine mixed with a powerful sedative. Shoot the girls with these and they’ll go down and they’ll be out. When they wake up, I want them here.”

“ You’re asking a lot.”

“ That’s why you get the big bucks.” He handed her the gun. “How’s it feel?”

“ Heavy.”

“ Three pounds.”

“ I like the feel of a good weapon.”

“ The beauty of this pistol is that it’s almost silent,” Mansfield said.

“ That’s good,” Lila said, “because it’s a single shot weapon. I’ll have to reload before shooting again, so doing them in their sleep is best.”

“ Yes, you wouldn’t want to wake them.”

“ Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“ There’s a half dozen darts there.”

“ I’ll only need two.”

“ Take them all, just in case. You never know what might come up.”

Home, she booted up her computer and smiled. This was going to be the easiest money she’d ever earned. Amy Eisenhower was only a few blocks away. Her car was anyway. She checked her watch, 5:45. Too early, besides she liked to work late. In this case, 4:00 in the morning would be perfect, they’d be asleep. She could shoot them in their beds, bind them and drive them over to Mansfield’s at first light.

Izzy lay awake in the king size bed. So much bed for only one person. Too much bed for her to fall asleep in. Besides, she wasn’t the least bit tired. She wondered why, because she hadn’t had any sleep since she’d walked out of the morgue twenty-four hours ago. She should be dead to the world.

Maybe it was her new found youth. Maybe her young body didn’t need as much sleep as she’d been used to. Or maybe she was never going to sleep again. She hoped that wasn’t the case, because lying in the dark, listening to the quiet, was dull going.

If she were home, she could get up and read or watch television, but she hadn’t thought to raid Alicia’s library and she didn’t want to turn on the television that was on the bureau opposite the bed, for fear she’d wake the girls in the next room.

Girls in the next room. That bothered Izzy. Alicia only had two beds in her large house. She’d converted one of her four bedrooms to a gym and another to a computer room. So Amy had to decide who to sleep with and, since the girl had spent the first four years of her life sleeping with Izzy, Izzy assumed they’d be sharing the big bed. But Amy said she’d be more comfortable sleeping with her friend.

Izzy never would have suspected someone as beautiful as Alicia of being gay. She looked like every man’s fantasy. And she never would have known if the girls hadn’t told her how they’d tricked Tucker Wayne into letting Amy go without a fight.

She smiled up at the dark ceiling. That was actually pretty smart. Tucker had probably been flattered. She could just see him with his chest puffed up, bragging to his friends about this gorgeous lesbian who had chosen him to straighten her out.

She wondered if Tucker could call Lila off. And if he could, would he? He’d said on the phone that they were even now, so Izzy thought not. Amy had stolen from him.

“ Damn,” she muttered. She’d left home so quickly, she’d forgotten to take her guns. She hated guns, was thought of as an anti-gun nutcase by all who knew her, even though she’d been born into a family of hunters. Her father and brothers had all carried. She’d been shooting as long as she’d been walking. But when she’d helped work on two girls who’d suffered multiple gunshot wounds, during her second week as an intern, she’d changed. Those girls died and along with them Izzy’s love of shooting had died, as well.

But Lee, her husband and the love of her life, was best friend to her brothers, hunted with them, fought with them, loved them almost as much as he’d loved her. When he’d died, she gave her brothers all of his guns, save the Glock, which she kept in her safe. That safe also housed a wallet gun her nephew Jeff got at a gun show in Las Vegas.

Two years ago her family had gathered at her house for Thanksgiving and later that evening, Jeff had had a little too much too drink. When she’d helped him up to the bed in one of her guest rooms, he’d grabbed the pillow, hugged it, rolled onto his side and passed out. She saw the bulge his wallet made in his back pocket, so she took it out, thinking to set it on the nightstand next to the bed, when she discovered it wasn’t a wallet at all. It was a small gun, a little Ruger, cleverly concealed in a leather holster resembling a wallet.

She’d taken the gun, put it in the safe along with her passport, other important papers and Lee’s Glock. Jeff, along with everyone else in her family, knew how she felt about guns, so in the morning he didn’t mention it. Neither did she.

As much as she hated guns, they’d come in awful handy if Lila Booth were to catch up to them. She sat up, heard the dog stir. He’d been sleeping by the side of the bed, but he was on all fours now, alert.

Alicia lived on Ralston, near the university. Izzy could walk over to Sierra, go up a couple blocks, then go through the park and enter her house through the back gate. If she didn’t turn on the lights, anybody who might be watching from a parked car out front wouldn’t know she was there. She could go in the back door, up the stairs to her room, open the safe, get the guns and be back well before dawn, without the girls ever knowing she’d been gone.