A burly man stepped into his house, located in a rural area of Maine near one of the state's many small lakes. He shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the door before looking at the package in his hands. He walked over to the living room couch and sat in it before placing the parcel on the coffee table in front of him.
It was unmarked, having been left for the man at one of the dead drops he had set up in the area so that potential clients could contact him. He was no longer in a stage of his career where he needed to advertise himself or his skills. He had long since cultivated a small but well paying group of clients who could supply him with jobs on at least a semi-regular basis. At this point the risk of the wrong person learning about his profession was greater than the potential payout of putting himself out there for hire.
The man ran his fingers through his gray but otherwise healthy looking hair. He had been in this line of work for over 30 years now and was wondering how many more jobs were left in him. Retirement was often a distant dream to an underworld hitman, but he'd been good at the job, so he thought he was entitled to dream a little.
Pulling a switchblade out of a jean pocket, he sliced open the package and spilled its contents onto the coffee table. The first thing to tumble out was a bundle of hundred dollar bills. Over his many years working in the criminal underworld he had seen a few people who could accurately guess the value of a stack of bills just by looking at it. He himself never developed the talent, but he could tell that this was a lot of cash.
The man shook the bag again, a burner phone falling out this time. It was standard procedure for him to have his clients to provide one to him when they offered a job. This way he could contact them at any time and dispose of the device safely without it being traced to either him or the client.
He shook the bag once more, hearing something rustle around in it. Taking the opening of the bag in both hands, he pulled it wider and shook it again. A small watch battery popped out and landed next to the bundle of cash.
So this was from that client then. They were the only ones who had ever offered him such a unique reward for a job. He didn't know exactly who they were, part of his service entailed not knowing his client's identity so he couldn't rat on them in the event that he was caught, though he never had been. Still, to be able to offer him something like this, they must be incredibly rich and powerful.
The man reached into a different pocket and pulled a crystal from it. He held it up by the attached chain and let it dangle. The crystal remained dull, though he knew that it was meant to glow when the chain was taut like this. The crystal had the power to entrance women with its light and make them obedient to the holder, he had used it many times both for his own pleasure and to acquire unwitting co-conspirators for jobs.
Unfortunately for him, it was not just a reward but also a method of control. The batteries for this thing ran dry fast, and the one currently hooked up to the crystal had died at a somewhat inopportune time recently. He had been at a bar a few towns over and had been able to get a pretty young lady alone with the intent of hypnotizing her to follow him to a motel room and let him fuck her any which way he wanted. But the battery died while he was in the middle of using it, leaving him with a woman who willingly followed him to the motel, but felt no compulsion to have sex once they got there.
One time he took the crystal to a fence he knew who specialized in moving electronics, one who was conveniently a woman so he could hypnotize her into examining the crystal's wiring without revealing its existence, a condition of his client allowing him to use it.
Once she had studied it, a slower process than normal since he had used the opportunity to bend her over her workbench and fuck her from behind as she went about her business, it revealed something interesting.
It was surprising how many secrets the chain held. The whole thing was rigged with micro-explosives and sensors. Try to put in a battery other than the specially modified ones his client sent him, it would explode. Attempt to mess with the wiring itself, the crystal, or the bombs and sensors, and it would explode. Furthermore, there was a receiver for remote detonation commands. While the blast couldn't cause serious injury in most cases, it would destroy the crystal and deprive the hitman of a valuable asset in both his professional and private life.
In short, he was allowed to use this wondrous object as a tool for his work and a reward, but he couldn't betray or disobey his client if he intended to keep using it. That, along with the piles of cash they gave him, was enough for him to consider this client his most important one.
The hitman put his fingers into the opened package, finding an index card stuck to the inside of it. He pulled it out to reveal a phone number written on it. He picked up the burner phone, turned it on, and dialed the digits.
"Hello, Victor," an electronically disguised voice said on the other end.
"You have a job for me?" the hitman asked. The covered up voice was normal for his clients, the fact they could stay anonymous was a major draw to them.
"Yes, and the boss considers this to be a high value target," the voice replied. "He's taken the liberty of giving $500,000 and a battery as an advance."
500K? Victor glanced down at the bundle of cash on his coffee table. He couldn't tell how much money was in it just from looking, but it looked thick enough to be 500 grand. That wasn't just large for an advance, it was more money than he had ever received for a single job.
"Why is he offering that much?" Victor asked. In his younger, more eager days, he would have been chomping at the bit to make that much cash. But he had survived in this business long enough to reach his 50th birthday, and he had to learn caution long ago in order to get there.
"Like I said, this is considered a high-value target," the voice replied. "Though I will say that the target stole something of great value to the boss, so you could say that this is something of a personal vendetta."
Victor leaned back in his seat as he considered this information. "That can't be everything. 500K? That's just too much."
"The boss is giving this to you out of a sense of generosity," the voice on the phone said.
"Is he now?" Victor questioned. This was the criminal underworld, generosity was a rare commodity to be bought and sold for maximum value.
"Yes," the voice answered. "He is aware that you are looking to get out of the game and wishes for this to be one final job so that you can retire in peace. Consider this a reward for many years of good service."
"How much are we talking about here?" the hitman asked.
"The advance is 10% of the total payout," the answer came.
"So once I finish the job I get another 4.5 mil?" Victor questioned, picking up the advance in his free hand and feeling its heft.
"That's correct," the voice confirmed.
Five million dollars. That was enough to retire on, especially since it was coming tax free. He likely wouldn't have another opportunity like this. Victor hadn't worked a legal job since he was 20, so it wasn't like he had a pension waiting for him or had paid a lot into social security. If he was going to sail off into a quiet retirement, this was his best chance.
"What about the crystal?" Victor asked, looking at the inert stone sitting on his coffee table.
"We will supply new batteries to you whenever you request," the voice answered. "So long as you keep with our prior arrangement on the subject."
"Don't worry, I will," Victor replied as he stood and walked over to his nearby desk, pulling a pencil and a notepad out of a drawer. "Who is the target?"
"A therapist going by the name of Reginald Davis," the voice began. "He's recently been arrested in a town in Montana called Montfort."
