A Piece of Her Heart: Prologue

The shot had to be precise. A milli second left or right would mean failure. That word was not in Spicy’s vocabulary.

“The target will be in your line of sight in two minutes.” The voice shattered the silence from her earwig.

“Roger that,” Spicy responded as she checked her watch.

“If he makes a move to pull his weapon, take him out. FLOTUS is in vehicle one.”

Spicy nodded in understanding then gave the last command. “Going silent in three, two, one.”

Silence filled her earwig. From that moment she was the primary in charge. The handler was not needed for this step of the mission. All decisions from this point on were hers and hers alone to make. Her finger moved to the trigger. The point of no return was now. The target would be in sight within seconds. She began taking deep breaths. Calm was needed for precision. From a roof top one hundred feet away, Spicy watched vehicles transporting the target pull in front of the hotel. Intel indicated the target was in the middle car. She inhaled. The target’s foot touched the pavement, his hand moved to his suit jacket as the vehicle carrying FLOTUS pulled to the curb. The target’s hand moved the weapon down to his thigh. She counted two seconds, watched his hand begin to move upward, then fired. The target fell to the ground, dead. FLOTUS’ security swiftly surrounded her, moving her inside the building. Backup security detail pulled their weapons, swinging high and low for the danger. It was too late. Spicy had eliminated the danger and was now on the move, breaking down her weapon as she moved swiftly down the stairwell of the abandoned hotel.

When she reached the door that had a sign indicating ‘LOBBY’ written across it, she did not take the exit. Instead, she continued to the basement, entering a corridor that led to the loading dock; she bypassed that area as well. Taking the lobby exit or the loading dock area exit was certain to result in her being captured. There was a staircase in the loading dock area that led underground to corridors under the street. Glancing up, she followed the grates that could open for vendors to lower merchandise to the various businesses in the area that gave her the cover she needed to escape. The underground corridors went in different directions for miles.  Moving swiftly, within minutes she was miles away from the hectic scene taking place at the hotel. The door to the building she needed came into view. She opened the door, glanced around for any movement, then walked in the door of the secure building. Walking from the underground storage area to the basement, the activity of the kitchen staff could be heard. She turned away from the sounds, following the first hallway to a set of steps that led up to the first level of the building. Rather than entering the lobby, she walked out of the back exit.

When she appeared above ground, a white cargo van was waiting in the alley. She climbed in the back closing the double doors behind her. The van pulled off. When she stepped out of the van, her appearance was drastically different.  The black long sleeve turtleneck, black slacks and boots she had worn to complete the assignment were no more. She was now dressed in jeans, a pink crochet sweater that hung to her thighs, and sneakers. Her wavy hair was loose around her shoulders. She appeared to be a college student leaving for holiday break, as did the other students walking from the dorm of the college campus where the van had dropped her off. Based on her youthful looks, blending in with college students was easy for her. If anyone had followed the van, it would be difficult to pick her out from the students at this location.

Spicy rolled her suitcase to her vehicle just like the other students were doing. Once the suitcase was in the backseat, she climbed into the driver’s seat, pushed the start button, turned on some music, then pulled off singing along with Stephanie Mills’ ‘Coming Home to Christmas With You’. Yes, one might think it was strange to be singing after taking a man’s life. Not Spicy. She had no qualms about the man whose life she had just ended. The assassin was hired by an American with wealth and powerful connections who chose to use both for evil. In her estimation, the bastard got off easy. She was ordered to kill the wrong man. If she had had her way, she would have preferred to kill the man who hired the assassin. By cutting off his dick, chopping it up into as many pieces as there were young girls that he had sold to the Middle East organization, shoving the pieces down his throat until he choked on them and then kill him again.  But that was not to be. The assassination of the assassin was authorized by the highest level of government. They should have gone after the American who hired him. He was the man who had compromised himself and the country. Due to his association with several members of Congress, they too had been compromised. When enemies of the country ordered them to give information related to FLOTUS’ travel itinerary, and they complied, all diplomatic benefits should have ceased. She’d taken an oath to protect and defend the country against foreign and domestic enemies. The man she killed was an assassin hired to take out the First Lady. He was the enemy. She took him out. The man who hired him was still alive. There was something wrong with that picture in her humble opinion. She touched the earwig, which had remained in her ear from beginning to end, activating it.

“Mission complete,” she said. “Spicy signing off.”

“Roger that.” Monique Day pulled the earwig from her ear, placed it in its holder. It would not come back out until the next mission was assigned.