Man's Take Magazine

Part Three: Interview with a Hitman

 This story is continued from Part Two of Interview with a Hitman by Jacob James McAndrew.

“Ok, so that’s your favorite?”

“I don’t know if I really have a favorite. But I really don’t prefer guns unless I need them. They’re fun toys, but far too impersonal. Impersonal attacks disrupt my balance. Not enough to set me into nightmare mode, but I can feel it.

“I’m not the type to bring a knife to a gunfight, but if it’s just one on one, or even two on one, I’d prefer a good blade any day of the week. The only problem is all the blood. Cleanup can be a bitch.”

Darlene intentionally avoided getting into a discussion about blood and cleanup. Instead she asked, “Any particular type of knife?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to throw out models or brands. I only use good steel though. The kind a surgeon would use in the operating room. High-carbon stainless. It’s expensive, but well worth the price.”

“This is so fascinating. I should probably be petrified of you Jack, but for some reason I’m not.”

“You looked pretty nervous when we got here.” He was smirking now.

“I’d be stupid not to be, right? You’re a dangerous man.”

“You have no idea.”

“I can’t stand the thought of death, or taking another person’s life. I don’t even like weapons, but somehow I’m intrigued by you Jack. I’m curious about how you live.”

“Hey, do you want to see one?”

“See one what?”

“One of my knives… one of my favorites.”

Suddenly the nerves came back. Or something hit her. She was shaking, but she almost immediately realized it wasn’t fear or nervousness, but rather raw excitement. She felt like a kid on her way to Disney World.

“Ok.” She said, trying to sound nonchalant. She vaguely remembered the kids in school urging a police officer to show them his gun at a safety talk. She and everyone else was disappointed when he wouldn’t do it.

Jack stood up without pushing off the armrests of his chair. He stood to his full six feet and brushed the tail of his black leather jacket to the side with a graceful movement. She saw the black composite handle of a pistol at his hip, but her eyes followed his fingers toward the pocket of his dark blue jeans.

He tucked his thumb into the pocket and suddenly withdrew the knife. There was a snapping sound as it flashed out from his side. The razor-sharp blade gleamed as the tip pointed directly at her. With a flourish of his hand he spun the handle so the sharp edge was aimed at himself. He offered it to her.

Darlene waited a second before reaching out to take the knife. She needed a second to try to stop her hands from shaking. She didn’t want Jack to see the unexplainable emotion raging through her.

She took the knife and twisted it around in front of her. She carefully drug her thumb sideways across the edge, feeling its sharpness. She did this mostly because she thought that’s what someone educated in dealing with knives would do to evaluate the quality. It felt extremely sharp to her, but she had little experience.

“So why this one?” She said, as she held it out for him to take back. “And how did you open it like that?”

He gave her a little grin. He pointed to a small curved piece of metal between the handle and the blade. “You see that? That hooks on your pocket, so when the knife is withdrawn, it pulls the blade out with it. It takes a little practice.”

“It’s like a whole world I know nothing about.” She said, staring at her own reflection in the gleaming blade. “So why this one aside from that?”

“Several reasons. For one, note the shape and length of the blade. It’s not too long that it’s cumbersome, but with a good four and a half inches, it can penetrate to the arteries or the heart where needed. The shape you’ll note is highly tapered and the tip is extremely thin. That makes it good for stabbing. Curved knives are good for slashing, but if you want to kill a person, you need to stab them with a straight knife. Slashing just gets blood every where, and doesn’t guarantee they won’t live through the attack. It’s just slower, less certainly, and lots messier.”

She shook her head at him. “So brutal. Maybe I don’t need that much detail.”

He shrugged, still turning the blade over in front of him. “Suit yourself.” He dropped the hand holding the knife to his side.

Darlene began to sit when Jack snatched her hand. “Wait… I want to show you something?”

Her eyes gleamed. She was afraid, but she was exhilarated simultaneously. She tried unsuccessfully to sound disinterested. “What’s that?”

Jack’s hand whipped across her in a blur of motion. The blade scintillated as it passed her body, reflecting the light from the lamp on the nearby table. She gasped, and tried to stagger back, but he held her wrist tight.

There was a click sound and she saw him deposit the now retracted knife back into the pocket of his jeans. She faced her fear and looked down at her chest. She expected to see blood, but there was none. Only a neat slash across the fabric of her blouse. Before she could look up again he’d kicked over the table and was reaching for her. She stood perfectly still.

His hands came toward her, grasping handfuls of her silky white blouse. He pulled and it tore open with a shredding sound. He exhaled sharply, gratefully, and she smelled wintergreen on his breath… Altoids she thought instinctively.

He slid his hands up her shoulders, more slowly this time. She stood motionless aside from the shaking. Her blouse was torn open revealing a lacey bra in a very faint shade of pink. His eyes were fixed on her cleavage for a moment, as he slid the jacket off her shoulders almost tenderly.

She let her arms go back to release the jacket. As soon as it was on its way to the tile floor, his hands flashed around abruptly and seized the collar of her blouse. He yanked hard, popping off the buttons and sheering the fabric at the previous tear lines.

Darlene was momentarily amazed at his strength, and totally unaware of what was happening. It didn’t make any sense. Was he trying to kill her? Rape her? She didn’t know.

It couldn’t be rape, because she wanted him more than she’d wanted any other man in her life. How could that be rape? She was starting to get control of her shaking, when the electricity of his touch on her bare skin jolted through her.

His lips were on her and she gasped again. Her arms encircled him, and she pulled him against her brutally hard. He kissed her forcefully and she had to push him away before he gave her bruises on her face. For a brief moment she wondered what she would do when she got home with her ripped clothing. Almost as soon as it occurred to her, the thought vanished.

She pushed him back, but he didn’t relent. She took the moment to slide his leather jacket off. She felt the hard bulges of his shoulder muscles and groaned with pleasure. If she were only a little more daring, she might have tried to rip off his shirt. She dismissed that thought as silly. She’d just make a fool of herself.

As the reporter let her hand slide down the assassin’s back, she saw the knife flash out again. She jerked away, but his hand bore down on her shoulder and she stopped. He then grabbed her bra and cut it away at the center between her breasts. He flipped the knife back into his pocket with a quick click of the blade.

She started shaking again. He dropped down on one knee and slid his hands from her knees up inside her skirt. He lifted her skirt as high as it would go. Then he scooped her up in his arms, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. He was savagely fast and strong for his size. Jack sat her in the chair gently and dropped to both knees. He tore away her panties with one hand and his teeth.

“Oh God!” she moaned. After a minute she jerked in a whole-body spasm, and then abruptly pushed his head back. She stood with all the force she could muster and pushed him onto his back. She jumped on top of him, kissing him, and then sliding down. She unbuttoned his jeans and yanked the zipper open, taking him fully in her mouth within seconds.

He grabbed her head, untwining his fingers through her hair. His breathing was heavy, but he made no other sounds.

She stood up and pulled her skirt all way up to her waist so it was out of the way. She just about to straddle him when he scooted away and stood up. He was graceful even with his pants around his thighs.

He lunged toward her, and knocked her over backward. His arms were around her, so she didn’t fall. He laid her back carefully.

“Control freak, aren’t you?” She whispered breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He said, breathing heavily himself. “Something like that.”

“You are… so hot!”

“I want you so bad.” He murmured. “You look so much like her. It’s not fair.”

“Take me Jack. Take me now!” she said forcefully as she pulled him to her.

He kissed her and then pulled his face away. He stared into her eyes for what seemed an eternity. She was waiting to feel him inside her, but what she felt instead was a sharp pain. The button on his pants must have been pressed against her chest…

He pulled back and stood. He let out a sigh and pulled up his pants. Her eye was drawn away from his erect penis toward the pocket of his pants. The knife was no longer clipped there. She glanced down and saw that it was protruding at a steep angle from her chest, just under her ribcage pointing upward toward her heart. She saw an inch and a half of steel sticking out.

He knelt down again and said in a sigh, “I’m sorry Darlene. It seems Mr. Thorpe is not a fan of your articles. He’s asked that you not be allowed to publish anymore. It’s a shame, really. You’ve got so much… talent.”

“What?” She said in total confusion. “Who?” Then it came to her. Brandon Thorpe. The multi-millionaire, mayoral hopeful she’d publicly humiliated and probably ruined the rest of his life.

“I wish it could be another way.” Jack said, regret and despair tainting his usually crisp voice.

“No… Don’t do this… Jack! You’ll have nightmares again!”

“I think you’re right.” He said without any emotion. “But the balance will come. Goodbye sweet Darlene. You are so very sexy my dear.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he jabbed the hilt of the knife with his palm, thrusting it further into her chest and piercing her heart. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open.

He twisted the knife sharply before tugging it free. He wiped the blade on her red jacket lying on the floor beside her. His hand shook a tiny bit, something that he hadn’t experienced on a job in many years. He turned toward the door and realized he’d almost forgotten to take her notepad.

Jack deposited the bag with his soiled clothing into the incinerator and then climbed into his car. Some irrational feeling had made him keep the notepad. He turned on the reading light in his car and flipped open the pad.

As he opened the pad, there was writing in block letters in the upper left corner of the pad’s cover. It read, “Confidential Information. Property of V. Darlene Taylor Schumaker, Assistant Editor, Sun Daily News.”

He froze in terror. Her saw her face in his memory. He saw the surprise as she glanced down and realized she’d been stabbed. He suddenly knew what she was about to tell him before he pushed the knife in further…

Jack screamed.

End of Interview with a Hitman by Jacob James McAndrew.

Related posts:

1. Fiction: Interview with a Hitman [Part 1]
2. Part Two: Interview with a Hitman