Carter

Note: Story one, "Carter: Tell me why I don't like Mondays" has been rewritten from the the advise I've gotten here. The second story I will rewrite soon, but I wanted the new version up. Thanks.



Title: “Carter: Tell me why I don’t like Mondays?”



          Sunday, 24:35 hours, Sunday



        Carter zoomed through traffic in his blue SVU, going as fast as the road rules would allow. He didn’t want to be noticed, in his profession the law was bad news.

    He was running a client through the gauntlet, as he called it.  It was a handy protocol to run wannabe clients ragged. It was known as a “fake drop off.”

      It was when he simply asked a client to meet him in a public place, usually a local shopping mall. Carter would show up, scout the place and the client. If Carter didn’t like the client or if he sensed government or law enforcement he simply left and stood the client up. If he did like the client he’d call them and arrange another meeting, somewhere close.

        It was beneficial to run a prospective client ragged. He’d send them on little trips – meet me here by this time, then call them again, all the while tailing the client. It was a great way to make certain they weren’t being followed in order to set Carter up.

        Being betrayed by his own Government had taught him one thing…it was to trust no one, especially if they were asking you to take someone’s life.

      This new client was easy enough to follow and he was certain they had no clue. A light changed from green to yellow and Carter slammed on the brakes. He was three cars behind his tail and that gap was getting larger by the second.

      Carter pressed the phone on the console and spoke into his Bluetooth headset.

      “Meet me in the alley on 6th,” Carter said slowly. “Be there in twenty minutes. Don’t be late.”

      “OK,” a tiny and frightened voice said.       

      The light changed and Carter sped off. The meeting place was only ten minutes away; he wanted to be there early to scout out the place.

          He parked the car and stepped out. He checked his best friend and made sure the magazine clip was full. The pistol was a prototype weapon, designed by Carter himself. It was compact, but deadly in the right hands; it also had a silencer. It was easily concealed underneath his leather coat, in a strap under his arm.

        The car Carter was tailing came up the alley and a woman stepped out. 

  She was around her mid thirties. Her sparkling green eyes shone in the neon light behind her.

        “You’re a hard man to meet,” she said, her voice sounding more nervous than annoyed.

        “Precautions,” Carter said with his usual deadpan and emotionless tone.

          “Of course,” the woman said and she smiled thinly at him. Carter waited for her to gather herself and she finally said, “I met this woman in a bar. I took her back to my place and we...”

        “Don’t need the motive,” Carter said. “I only need two things. One, payment: Two, the target.”

        “If it’s all the same I need you to know this,” the woman said. Carter nodded. “I think she was a plant, she stole a flash drive from my laptop and left.”

        “You should always back up,” Carter said.

      “You can’t back up files you stole that night now can you?” the woman said in a harsh tone. “I stole it for the mob. You don’t want to know who. If I don’t have the files by Tuesday they’re going to kill me.”

          This was getting way too complicated for Carter’s liking.

            Carter stood there and waited for her to continue.

            “I know you said you wanted half the payment up front in your e-mail, but I’ll pay you all of it if you take care of her and retrieve the flash drive for me.”

          “Double the payment,” Carter said with an icy tone. “And you’ve got yourself a deal.”

          “A million dollars?” the woman said louder than Carter would have liked. “You got to be kidding!”

          “Don’t normally do fetch work,” Carter said. “Take it or leave it.”

          The woman went pale. “I can pay half now...”

          “Transfer the money into my account,” Carter pulled his Blackberry out of his black leather jacket and e-mailed her his account number. “The job will be done by midnight. What’s the target’s name?”

          “Sally,” the woman said. “Sally Wicker is the name she gave me.”

          “Better be real,” Carter said. “Playing Detective will cost extra.”

          She sighed. “You really are as cold as they say, uh?”

          “And then some,” Carter said.

            “Then I’m glad I took this, then,” the woman reached into her handbag and Carter pulled the Prototype pistol and aimed it at her head.

            “Don’t make any sudden moves,” Carter ordered.

            “I’m reaching for my cell phone, for God’s sake!”

            “OK, then,” Carter said. “Nice and slow; and if I don’t like the look of your cell phone I blow your head off.”

            She pulled out her phone and flipped it open and then showed Carter a picture of another woman.

            “This is her,” the woman said. “I took it during our night together.”

            The picture was tasteful and it clearly showed her face. Carter took the phone from his client and pressed a few buttons.

      A moment passed. “What are you doing?”

            “Just sending myself the picture,” Carter said. “I’ll take the job. Once I receive half of the payment I will proceed. I will contact you when the job is complete. Once you pay me the rest of my money we will never meet again. If you don’t pay---”

      “I’ve heard the rumors,” she said. “You will be paid.”

        “Good. Now stay here. I go to my car first.”

           

        Carter went back to the hotel he called home. He’d lived there for two years and it served him well. His cover story was he was an antique dealer and traveled all over the world finding the rarest pieces. The hotel also had security, for if and when he was ever discovered.

      He opened his door with his key card and went to his laptop. With a picture, a name, and some illegal software he discovered his target’s name. It was in fact Sally Wicker and she worked for the DA. He read on an online paper that she was aiding the DA against some small time crime boss. He sat back on his chair and wondered what he’d do? He'd agreed to take her life, and yet it didn’t feel right in his gut. He’d killed for less, and he was certain he’d kill for less again, but this Sally Wicker was actually on the right side of the law, just like he had been, back before he was betrayed.

          His screen flickered and he saw that the money had been sent to his account. Well, there was no backing out now.

          The landline rang and he answered it.

                  “Sir,” a soft voice said. “We have an Erica Edwards here to see you.”

                “Send her up,” Carter said. He shut down the laptop and made himself an iced tea. Carter didn’t drink or smoke, he was a health freak. He only ate healthy food, and if he ever did indulge he worked out even harder.

            Erica had been coming up to his hotel room for months now. She was beyond asking him the reason why he lived in a hotel. Erica was Carter’s girlfriend. Or at least she was the girlfriend to Carter Taylor – the alias he used for the hotel. The name the Day world knew him by. Carter was the name he went by in the night, the name he killed under. In truth none of these names were his true name

            Because Erica had come to see him so often he guessed how long it would take her to make her way up to his room.

                  He opened the door and was greeted by the beautiful redhead. She kissed him hello and then said, “Hope you don’t mind pizza.”

                “Have to figure out a way to burn it off,” Carter said as a smile crept across his face.

            “Sure we can think of something,” Erica said as she licked her finger invitingly.

            “Twenty-five,” Carter said.

            “Come again, babe,” Erica asked             



            “It’s the number of extra pushups I have to do per slice,” Carter said. “Then again around five calories are burned during one minute of sex.”

            “Really?” Erica said, her eyes shining. They ate together. He made small talk, spoke of some rare painting he was after; all lies of course. He found the only real truth was found down the barrel of a gun. Everyone lied. They lied to their loved ones, co workers, and friends, and most importantly to themselves. Carter was different of course. For most people lies were the fabric that held their lives together and for some people it also held their sanity together. But most people also had truth, faith and love. But Carter’s entire life was a lie. Instead he had his own self created code or honor, his training and burning desire to put it into action. He didn’t need the money; his freelance wet work had made him very rich. He liked the thrill of the hunt, the exhilaration of dealing out death. During a date with Erica he’d taken her to an art gallery and he’d seen a painting. He’d forgotten what it was called but it was a picture of a man on his knees and other man on standing above him with a gun to his head. That was life in a nutshell. Most were on their knees, begging not to be killed. Carter however liked the fact he was the man with the gun.

      The only thing about his relationship with Erica that wasn’t based on a lie was their connection. Physically they were a good fit. And he lied to himself, deluding himself that he was using her, but in truth, if he looked deep in his own heart: in his own twisted and broken way, he loved her.

          “Have another slice, love” Erica said, teasing him, but in a good way. “And we’ll work it off.”

           

        Carter lay beside Erica and watched the sun rise; he didn’t sleep at the best of times and right now Carter was deciding what meant more to him: his self created code of honor or what his gut was telling him. In training he was taught that only an idiot ignored his instincts.

            “Babe,” Erica said as she woke up. “You OK?”

              “Yes, I’m fine,” Carter lied. “I’m late for work...” he threw the white sheets off himself and kissed her soft lips goodbye and hopped out of bed and did twenty pushups in quick succession and then headed for a shower.

        Monday, 22:00 hours

     

      Carter studied his prey. She worked hard and Carter admired that, he hoped he was doing the right thing. At 22: 34 she finally walked to her car. The parking lot had cameras and guards, so Carter hoped she either made a stop or if he was forced to, he’d do it at her home.

        He followed her in his own car. He owned quite a few cars, but the one he was driving was a boring blue SVU. She pulled over to a 24/7 store and Carter followed.

        This was good.

      A few minutes later she came out with a bag of groceries. She put them in the back seat of her car and then Carter acted.

        “Hello Miss Wicker,” Carter said.

    She quickly turned around.

            “Wha--- what do you want?”

            “What I want is inconsequential,” Carter said in an icy tone. “It’s what we can do for each other that counts.”

            “What are you talking about?” Sally asked, keeping relatively calm.

            “You stole a flash drive,” Carter went on. “How you did it is none of my business, however, the previous owner of it wants it back and you dead.”

    Her eyes widened.

              “Please do not scream, Miss Wicker,” Carter said, lifting his leather coat aside to show her his Prototype pistol. “If I had any plans to kill you, you’d be dead by now and we’d have never met.”

              “So what then do you want?”Sally asked.

              “Money is easily earned in my profession,” Carter said. “Contacts and favors on the other hand are harder to come by.”

              “You’re blackmailing me?” Sally said a lot louder than Carter would have liked, but he scanned the area and no one heard her or took any notice.

            “No,” Carter said. “I just want you aware that you owe me. And you’d better do your best if and when I come to collect,” his voice was like cold, hard stone.

            “OK, then,” Sally said; she swallowed hard. “I agree. Not that I have any choice.”

            “Smart girl,” Carter said.

            “And what can I expect from the future?” Sally asked. “She’ll send someone else.”

      Carter smiled just a little.

          “No,” Carter said. “No, she won’t. She’ll be taken care of and you’ll be free to bring down the crime lord.” He walked away.

            “Can I at least know your name?” Sally called back. “Who are you?”

            Carter said nothing, walked a few blocks, followed Sally by foot and then by car and made certain she didn’t call the police.

            She didn’t.

            “Like I said,” Carter mused to himself. “Smart girl.”

          23:35 hours – Monday evening

         

          It was a safety protocol Carter had in place, that when he met a client he bugged them, if at all possible. He gave his client’s phone a tracker virus when he downloaded the Intel from her phone. He activated the signal and his illegal GPS link up led him to her apartment. She hadn’t sent the rest of the money of course, as the news hadn’t reported Sally Wicker’s death, nor did he send her the flash drive.

        It was a rather large house; then again she was on the take, so he hoped she was paid well. Besides the size it wasn’t that pretty, Carter guessed she spent more time working than living here. It was a shame she’d die there. She did however have a security camera around the perimeter.

      Not a complete idiot, then.

      Carter took out the highly illegal scrambler unit he took with him and activated it. It sent out a signal and blanketed the area with white noise. It would last ten minutes.

      He wouldn’t need that long.



      He kicked the door down, Prototype pistol in hand.

      She was sitting on a sofa having a glass of red wine. Carter hoped it was a good wine.

      She didn’t bother getting off the sofa, nor turning around.

          “You sold me out,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “There’s a twist.”

          “Nothing personal,” he said. “It’s just business.”

          “You expect something like that this when you get in bed with a crime family,” she said so calmly it actually freaked Carter out a bit. “Can I at least finish this glass?”

            “You can,” Carter said. She adjusted herself to actually see Carter and moved the glass in a toast.

            “Thanks,” she said and a moment later Carter double tapped her head with two rounds.

              Feeling a surge go through him he went back to his car and drove for a while, to clear his thoughts.

            You made your bed; now die in it.

    He wasn’t really built for mercy or compassion but for once he was one of the good guys. And to sweeten the deal he now had someone inside the DA.

          Or at least that was the lie he told himself.

The end













This story will be rewritten soon.





Carter

“E-mail SOS”





      Carter sat at the bar. He despised alcohol and never touched the stuff. He frowned, for he had to keep up appearances.

      “Whatever’s on tap,” Carter said, trying his best not to sound like he wanted to shoot the barmaid in the forehead. He quickly scanned the bar and found his two targets.

      He sighed.

    Why didn’t I read that fucking e-mail after I had a sleep? Carter mused inside his head. He hardly ever swore. He believed it meant you were losing your cool and Carter always remained cool. Even under heavy fire...or when some God awful pop song was playing on the juke box way too loud. And he didn’t get that much sleep on the plane.

      The barmaid poured him his beer and Carter smiled at her, as she smiled at him. Sometimes he cursed his good looks. He didn’t want to be remembered, and a handsome man in a $2000 dollar black suit tended to be remembered.

      He took a sip of his beer and was pleased it wasn’t that awful.

      I’m going to have to run for an extra hour on the treadmill to work off this beer, Carter thought.

      He glanced over at a man who was clearly Eastern European. He had tanned skin and a shaved head; he dressed well, and for a moment Carter didn’t want to ruin his suit.

      Of course a bullet in the forehead would ruin just about anything, Carter thought.

      But his fashion style didn’t matter this man was one bad guy. He was smuggling weapons into the US, selling drugs to anyone with money, he bought and sold stolen high performance cars, and even had his own prostitution racket.

          He was a bit like Carter, he was really good at being really bad, but this time his ticket had been called, for Carter was on his tail.

          And he had made one major mistake: crossing one of the few friends Carter had.





Six years earlier



      Carter worked for the US Government. He didn’t carry a badge with letters on it, he didn’t work like that. Sure he worked with the CIA, FBI, and Homeland Security, but he wasn’t on any payroll, no record, either hardcopy or data file. He was what is known in the trade as a Ghost.

        A wet work Ghost.

        Death Itself to anyone who needed a serious case of lead poisoning.

And on an undercover job, four years before he was betrayed and blacklisted, and almost killed and went Freelance he met Rachel Gilmore.

          As green as they came, Carter showed her the ropes, the ins and outs, how to scan a room in a split second and count the exits and the possible threats. In the course of the case they somehow managed, during the heavy body count, to end up in bed together.

        Carter had a rule about mixing business with pleasure, but he fell into her ocean deep blue eyes, long blonde hair, slender frame and other things...

      Carter left her after the job was done, saying that their relationship would get her killed. And he would have been right. Had the powers that be known they’d been together, to draw Carter out they would have caused her car to go off a cliff.

          And when Carter needed to get out of the country she helped him, with no qualms or questions and for that she held a special place in Carter’s heart.



72 hours earlier



          Erica had just left. Carter was exhausted from their lovemaking and was going to get some shuteye before a workout. Erica had finally landed a modelling gig and was off for a photo shoot. Carter decided to check his e-mail before he went to sleep.

              On his laptop he read his e-mail, the normal stuff, spam, a few leads where his former Boss was, all false of course; but one struck his heart like a jackhammer set on maximum.

        Subject: The day is long when the umbrella is lost.

        It was code from Rachel; in short it was an SOS they figured out when they worked together. A meaningless phrase that would let the other know they needed help A-SAP.

              He opened the e-mail with his heart in his mouth and read the text. It was mostly useless ramblings and anyone reading would assume it was just an e-mail to a friend.



          Dear Michael (his code name when they worked together), the holiday in Prague is going along quite nicely, but I did have a scare the other day when I fell in the pool. I’ve never been a good swimmer, as you know. But Dimitri saved me. So I hope to see you at the bar Dimitri owns. We’re gonna get so drank.

Love, Rach



  Carter got up from his bed slowly and went to the ice bar and grabbed a bottle of iced water and opened his black brief case and from it took a notepad and pen.

          He took a sip of water and began...



        Michael: his alias when he worked with her, although she was aware he called himself Carter. She wrote that so he’d remember their time together.

            Prague: well, a blind monkey could figure out that, but the scare at the pool worried him, it was code for I’m undercover and I think it’s blown. And what really troubled Carter was Dimitri. He’d never heard of him, but saying he saved her from the pool meant he is on to her, but hasn’t acted yet. Carter realized after a quick Net hunt that there was a nightclub with a high glass bar called Dimitri’s in Prague. He seemed clean, in fact he seemed too clean. With pictures on the Net of him helping bald and sick children. Anyone that try hard while a camera was on him Carter knew all too well were the really dangerous ones.

        “Goddamn it!” Carter cursed. He wanted sleep but used his laptop and booked the earliest flight to Prague. He had two hours to sleep. “No push ups today.”

        Carter tried to sleep and eventually did, and soon, much to his dismay, the alarm sounded.

            He texted Erica saying he’d was going away for business for a few days and then sent her two dozen long stem roses.



      Now

       

        The crowd was beginning to fill and Carter stood up to view his target. It took all his will not to jump over there and break his neck. However, he was unarmed, or at least he didn’t carry anything that he could use to put bullets into someone, because he’d never get past the big bouncer outside, which of course didn’t mean Dimitri and his pack of goons didn’t carry heat. Carter walked up to a girl in a black and white outfit that showed enough flesh to announce what she was selling. He looked her up and down. She didn’t hold a candle to Erica but she was very nice. He turned his neck around and caught Rachel’s eye as Dimitri stroked her knee. She didn’t move, didn’t let anyone know she knew the man in the black suit, but Carter knew she knew he’d come for her.

          Carter didn’t like what he was about to do; he’d done much worse of course, but still it didn’t feel right, but he’d rather the girl out of the way when he made the body count rise.

          “You’re not worth that much, bitch!” he snapped loudly, making sure everyone heard him and then he slapped her. He slapped her hard enough to hurt, but he could have knocked her over the counter but only tapped her. Still it was enough to get the eyes of Dimitri’s goons on him and off Rachel.

          Four men came at him and he instinctively knew by the way they moved they had little to no training. He grabbed a beer bottle and slammed it violently into one of the goon’s neck. Someone with less training and a fear they’d miss would have gone for the head. It would have dazed his enemy and bought him a moment or two. A bottle in the neck on the other hand provided either a grave wound or better still, death. The man went down and Carter felt the bottle shatter on impact, so Carter knew he was down for the count.

            The other three now angry charged at Carter, he dived out of the way over a pool table and as he did he grabbed the pool cue. He regained his balance and slammed the pool cue in one man’s eye and then slammed the other end of the pool cue over the oncoming goon’s ear. He went down, but wouldn’t stay that way. Carter grabbed him by his cheap leather coat and slammed him into counter, dragging him along the counter and then eventually slammed the bar opening on the guy’s head.

            “Carter!” he heard and turned around to see Dimitri dragging Rachel by her long hair upstairs. Carter said nothing. The last man came at him and Carter simply sidestepped him and then broke his neck. Fellow drinkers were now running for their lives. Carter patted the dead man down and found a .44 Automatic Colt Pistol. He took it and headed for Rachel.



        “I knew you were fucking betraying me, you fucking bitch!” Dimitri screamed at Rachel. Carter couldn’t risk hitting Rachel so he followed him as he dragged her to the roof. Carter didn’t understand why anyone would go up to the roof when inside the club had better cover, but as he ran up the stairs he understood: He heard a helicopter.

        Carter picked up his pace.

        And then Carter heard footsteps behind him. Whatever he planned on doing he’d better to it quick.



            Carter reached the helipad just as Rachel punched Dimitri’s throat.

            My training, Carter thought proudly.

            But much to Carter’s dismay the helicopter pilot stopped her escape. Carter ran to her aid and slid underneath the belly of the chopper and flanked the pilot. Carter wasted no time in putting a bullet in his head.

          “Freeze!” Dimitri screamed as he raised a gun to Rachel’s head. “I’ll do it!”

          Carter walked to where Dimitri could see him.

          “Put the gun down”, Carter said. “And I may just let you live for another moment or two.”

          “I’m serious!” Dimitri screamed.

          “So am I,” Carter said as he lifted his weapon and placed a round in Dimitri’s left eye socket. Rachel screamed as the bullet went flying past her.

        Carter walked toward her and said, “Get in the chopper.” He was calm and in control. Two guys came up the stairs and opened the door to the helipad. Carter shot them with clean shots in their foreheads and then grabbed the submachine gun one of the now dead goons had been carrying and started firing at the door.

            Rachel was in the chopper by now and Carter kept firing as he grabbed the other gun the other dead goon was carrying and made his way to the cockpit.  He threw the dead pilot to the ground and jumped in. He calmly handed Rachel his weapons and simply said, “Cover,” in an even tone.

        He took off with Rachel firing at the last of the goons stupid enough to try and help their dead boss.

          They flew for a minute and then Carter said, “Why aren’t the police following us?”

          “I gave them the head’s up that the CIA will be cleaning up this block,” Rachel said. “Dimitri was a very---”

              “Yes, I know,” Carter said. “Let’s ditch this thing regardless.” A moment later Carter asked via mic both Rachel and Carter were wearing. “You’re not CIA, are you? Last time I worked for them it didn’t go so well.”

              “Doesn’t matter,” Rachel said. “This is off the books.”

              “Just how I like it,” Carter said.



        Carter wasn’t good at good byes. They sat together on the sofa of Rachel’s safe house.

            “Thanks for saving me back there,” she said as she leaned in and kissed his lips. “One for the road?” She tilted her head toward the double bed at the end of the safe house.

          Carter hesitated, “I’m kinda with someone,” Carter said, his tone showing more emotion than he was used to.

                “It’s OK,” Rachel said softly as she bit his earlobe. “It’s off the books.”

                Carter said nothing and just let the spark between explode with pressure.



              Carter really hated goodbyes.

                Rachel was naked and asleep next to him; he awoke and dressed quietly. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote.

                “If you ever need me, you know where I am.

                Carter”

            And with that he softly kissed her shoulders and neck, she didn’t awaken, and left.

The end