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The Boonemiesters Fiction by Booney
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Dust Off
Date: 22 December 2003, 6:26 AM
Peering through his binoculars, Panther watched the entrance of the club like a hawk. The line outside the entrance snaked along the footpath disappearing into the dark shadows of background. Panning his binoculars he focused on the glowing entrance, which its pulsating sign that kindled the burning embers of lights that danced inside it. They flickered wildly from blue, to red, to green, to yellow in an unbridled passionate pattern. Upholding the entrance like two pillars were two bouncers dressed in dark suits. Then, a blurred shadow raced across Panther's view. He zoomed out and refocused. A short man with long curly hair that curtained his head and red suited shoulders. His plain of hair was marred by bald patch that shone in the night, ignited by the dancing lights. Dropping his binoculars he reached into the backseat and pulled out a large black sports bag. He unzipped and removed from inside a large, dark and sleek object that was almost the size of the bag itself. He unfolded the tripod dangling on the bottom and rested on the seat. He flicked on a switch and listened as the object purred lightly, indicating it was on. He peered into the end. The street lit up and was dark no more. The super cooled IR sensor picked up every waft of body heat. The snake that was the line was no longer, but became a dancing fire. Focusing on the entrance again, he noticed each bouncer and the short man had a dark patch on their left torsos. Too small to be pistols, he thought.
"Hey you two, keep your eyes open. You know why..." the short man said.
"Don worry 'bout it," one of the bouncers replied.
"Listen up you prick. After yesterday the whole fucking pack will be after us. Just hope they haven't found out who it was!!"
"Yeah alright, alright".
Panther flicked off the switch on the IR sight, and tossed it into the back seat. He stepped out of his Chevrolet Impala and silently closed the door. He brushed off with his hand his Ralph Lauren suit, and straightened out the large collars on his shirt. He opened his jacket and checked his two pens were there in his pocket. Looking back up he stridded towards the entrance.
* * *
"End of the line pal," rasped the bouncer.
"Hey, Vinnie!?! It's me, don't you remember? It's Gordon...well???" Panther replied as he flicked out a wad of cash containing $100 in one fluid motion ready for a handshake. The bouncer started at Panther's hand for a moment. "Oh....yeah. Gordie!!! go right in but hold up we gotta check ya".
"No problem Vinnie".
He motioned the other bouncer. "Hold out you arms," he ordered. He patted him down finding nothing.
"What's in the jacket?". He opened his jacket. Nothing again. "The pocket...". He pulled out two pens and a piece of paper. "Think you'll get lucky tonight?" jeered "Vinnie" as he motioned him to go in.
Panther smiled. "Always"
The lights danced even more furiously inside on the dance floor. Their stage was a sea of bodies that lapped against the edges in an fickle pattern, yet the loud beating of the synthesized motioned the sea to move like a drummer leading his army. Panther let his eyes sway from the bodies and ride the stairs that led up to second floor. The second floor was a thin gallery that overlooked the dance floor, and circled two thirds of the club. It was framed by a glass barrier. Hugging it were tables for two. Below was a large a bar where bodies were dotted across the counter. He moved his eyes back up and found the short man again. He watched him as he handed out a crumpled yellow envelope to thin yet well built man dressed in a gray suit. Then they both leaned back and started talking.
"Hey honey you seem a little bored," a voice whispered. He turned around moving his eyes towards the voice. He looked at the woman that was standing there. She was wearing the cliché short black dress, and had her voluptuous legs formed upwards into a likewise torso. He shoulders were covered by long deep brown hair. "No, not really just searching for my target," he replied gazing into her green eyes.
"And have you found it yet?"
"I don't know, you tell me. Have I?". He grinned, and raised an eyebrow.
"Let's go find out...". She smiled back.
"I'll take a raincheck". He winked and turned back around, when a movement caught his eyes. A large burly man was walking into the bathroom. A bodyguard, he thought. "It's play time," he whispered to himself an he put on his single piece red lens glasses.
The bathroom was quite well furnished. Blue green marble tiles filled the whole room, and the cubicles where likewise colored. He noticed all eight were engaged. He waited at the door. Then he noticed a cubicle opening at the end. It was the bodyguard. Panther coolly walked up and stood next to the bodyguard. He watched as he ran his hands through running water and bent over to rinse his face. Panther reached into his jacket and removed one of the pens. He clicked. Then he swiftly brought it down on the bodyguard's neck. The bodyguard tried to scream but the neurotoxin was already working. His large and well built body crumpled into the floor. He stared at the ceiling. He tried to move his eyes but he couldn't. He tried to breathe but the couldn't. He tried to shuffle his body it didn't heed his orders. Then he saw man leaning over him. His short gelled black hair shone in the well lit room. The dark olive skin was broken up by two brown eyes. He then produced a pen. He darted the pen into his neck. His vision blurred and faded into black.
The neurotoxin had worked. Panther was gambling with such a small amount but he didn't want any dead bodies around. The bodyguard would be out for a least an hour with the amount of tranquilizer he gave him but that was plenty of time. He searched through the man. He found an MP5K-PDW in a shoulder holster with two thirty round magazines. Looking further he found a suppresser. He checked his legs and found a Para-Ordnance P10-45. This bodyguard wasn't leaving anything to chance, Panther thought. He put the weapons on himself and dragged the body back into the cubicle and sat him on the toilet. Then he walked back out into the dance floor.
Looking up he saw his target still sitting on the same table. This time he was alone. Panther began to scan he surroundings. He found a dark spot were no lights trespassed. He slowly stridded into that spot. He turned around and looked at his target. Panther was now blanketed in black hiding him from curious eyes. At this point he pulled out the MP5K-PDW and unfolded the stock. He then slowly affixed the suppresser onto the muzzle. He slowly brought his weapon up focusing on the front sight and letting the back sight align itself. Suddenly, he realised that the sights were out of alignment. He twisted the rear cylindrical sight to its proper gradation. He brought the weapon up and re-aimed. This time he squeezed the trigger. Five audible clicks and a puff off smoke emerged from the gun. He watched through the PDW's diopter sight as the man disappeared downwards from his view leaving a streak of blood.
The man felt nothing. The five 9x19mm 147 grain Jacketed Hollow Point ripped apart the man's brain. The bullets entered the left side of his skull. They punched into his brain shredding it as the shards of broken bone darted into his cerebrum. Then they continued into his brain stem leaving a gaping chasm as they stopped as the mushrooming induced drag.
Panther lowered his weapon, unscrewed the suppresser and folded the stock in one fluid motion. He quickly holstered it. Then a quite shrill pierced the air. Panther figured that no one had heard the shots. Although the suppresser didn't silence the shot, it did make the subgun sound something other than a gunshot. "Now for the egress," he thought.
It was a mess on the dance floor. The guards had secured the entrances and exits. People were running everywhere. The music had stopped. Panther had to think. He darted his head around. Two at one entrance. Two at another. Three guarding the last one. "Time to improvise," he concluded. He looked back at where he shot from. Damn. All the lights were on. "Damn damn damn!" he swore. The guards started weaving through the crowd telling everyone to get on the floor. He had to act now. He took a deep breath.
"Here goes nothing". He coolly walked over to the bar. The bartenders were nowhere to be seen. He scanned the black granite bar. He looked around to make sure no-one was watching. Then he flipped over the bar and then positioned himself prone. There were a couple of taps dispensing beer, but he wasn't looking for those. Bingo. A lighter. He grabbed two large bottles of gin. The undid the bottle caps and pulled out his notepad. He place all three on the floor. He reached into his pockets in his pants. "Yes!!!" He had some left over gum. He removed all the sticks from the packet and began chewing them all. He chewed and chewed. "Come on you pieces of shit, soften up already", he thought as he chewed. When they were ready he grabbed the note pad. He tore off a piece of paper. Reaching into his mouth he removed a wad of the gum. He rolled up the paper into a stick shape and punched one end through the wad of gum. Then he placed on the mouth of the bottle making sure the bottom end of the paper was in the gin. He now had himself an albeit inefficient Molotov Cocktail. He repeated the procedure on the other bottle. "Now...", he thought as he grabbed four more bottles this time an assortment of vodka and whiskey. He lit the two Molotovs. He held two by the neck between his fingers in one hand and the same in the other. Then he lit the other two bottles. Hastily, he sprang and threw all four bottles at the guards near the main entrance. Just as quickly he grabbed the Molotovs and threw them. BOOM! BOOM! The Molotovs had exploded just before hitting the ground.
He then somersaulted over the bar and simultaneously pulled out the MP5K-PDW. The whole entrance was now on fire. All three guards we alight like torches. Panther sprinted straight towards the entrance. He noticed there were three other guards outside who were stunned. Then he dived through the entrance hoping to miss the burning flames. He swooped past the guards, missing the flames, landed and rolled, then quickly spun around on his back and emptied the magazine in an arc. All the guards immediately dropped. He shot back up again and ran for his Impala. He looked back, and saw cloud of thick beautiful white smoke shoot through the entrance. They had put out the fire. He dropped the subgun and pulled out the P10-45. The first guard that emerged from the smoke took a 45 ACP 230 grain JHP to the head. Panther had now reached his car. Unlocking it, opening the door, and pulling out a red sports bag he shouted, "now for some real firepower!!!". He unzipped the bag and removed a FAMAS Shorty. It was already loaded. He pulled the cocking handle and aimed. Two guards again emerged firing blindly. Panther tapped a three round burst into both of them. Blood shot out like a geyser in each wound, staining the crisp white shirts, with a crimson red colour.
"What the hell is going on out there?!!" John screamed.
"We're getting fucking hammered!!! James, and the guys that went with him are rotting on the bloody street now," Brad answered.
"This ain't worth risking our arses for. Fuck this shit!!!". John and James then proceeded to run back inside. "Stay the fuck inside". All the guards lowered their weapons. "Clear out this joint...".
Panther jumped into his car. He started up the engine and immediately took off in a orgy of smoke and noise. He laughed, "Walk in the park".
Dust Off Chapter 2
Date: 22 December 2003, 6:28 AM
Dust Off Chapter 2
Panther pulled over into a dank and dirty alley. He got out of the Impala, withdrawing the licence plates from the glove box along with a pneumatic drill. He switched the licence plates and threw the stolen ones in the garbage nearby. That job done, he got back in and drove back into the road.
Panther started to recall the events of the hit. He expected the bodyguards to react in a more slower and disorderly manner. Instead, they moved quickly to secure the exits and other egress routes. Furthermore, although he hadn't seen them he was sure there were "sweeper teams" filed through the crowd looking for the shooter or shooters. Luckily for him he managed to extricate himself quickly and those pieces of gum were there.
His heart was still fluttering and the rich blood it was pumping was still diluted with adrenaline. No matter how many times he hunted a man, no women yet, it never ceased to give him its unholy salvation. Panther let his mind get back to driving. He needed to get back to his hotel and get some much needed rest, and contact his secretary, Leslie.
* * *
Panther drove to the entrance of the Fontainebleau Hilton Resort. He got out of the car and handed it over to valet along with a wad of cash. Panther stopped and took time to examine the hotel. It was a huge building with many floors to count. During the day, whitewashed building glowed like a pearl. There was a small garden full of green shrubbery that separated the driveway from the main coastal highway which hugged the crisp white sands of Miami Beach. The footpath and that paralleled the entrance was covered by a glass roof supported by white metal beams. The entrance itself had clear glass doors that twinkled with the little reflections of the lights inside. The revving down of a Mercedes ELK broke his admiration. He turned his head to examine the car. A middle aged couple stepped out from the front, and a voluptuous blonde from the back. She eyed him, giving a flirtatious smile. Her blood red lipstick, contrasted with her pearl white wall of teeth. Panther acknowledged her with a polite smile and walked into the entrance. Spoiled daddy's girl, he thought. Good for one thing only.
"Good evening, Mr Benau. Is there anything I can get for you?" said a cute brunette behind the Reception Desk.
"Yes there is. Can I get a bottle of Absolut Vodka delivered to my room please," Panther replied.
"Yes Mr Benau that won't be a problem".
"Thank you very much...", Panther read her name tag "...Lindsay".
"Your welcome Mr Benau". Lindsay had worked in the hotel business for 8 years. Though a short time she never had a guest like Francis Benau. She had doubts that was his real name, especially since he had Mediterranean looks. But she didn't care. Not many guests of the Tower Suites were so polite, and went to the trouble of calling the staff by name. Not only that he was good looking, and had killer body. She also noticed that he only ever wore a black suit. Ralph Lauren, she guessed. Tonight, she noticed as he walked away, he wore a large collared white shirt with no tie. Lindsay snapped her mind back to her work. She picked up the phone and called Panther's personal concierge. One of the perks of staying at the Tower Suites, she thought.
Panther flopped down onto the plush couch. His bottle of vodka was already there. He poured himself a straight drink on ice. He went outside onto the terrace, with it's beach view. It was past midnight but the highway was still streaming with cars their headlights dotting the dark highway. The daylight blue transparent sparkle was replaced by a dark secretive blanket. Then a beep broke the sound of the cars and the waves lapping against the shore. It was his laptop.
He sat down an opened it. It was Leslie, he personal assistant. "Good evening sir. Rather good morning" she said. A few seconds later he video feed came on screen.
"Morning, Leslie" Panther replied.
"I've got another job for you".
"Go on...". There was a short silence.
"It's in Sydney, Australia. Your target is this man here". A picture opened showing a man in his thirties. "His name is Leupold Brandle".
"What's he do?" Panther interrupted.
"He's an industrial spy for a chemical company in Germany, Bayern Industries". The company logo appeared on screen. "You have to eliminate him," she continued, "I'm uploading the files you need".
'Thankyou, Leslie. See you soon". He terminated the link. He decide to look through the details tomorrow. He took a shower, and finished his bottle of vodka, which knocked him to sleep.
"Mornin, Sarge," the young officer said as he pulled up the police line.
"Mornin, kid" Sergeant Mike Sanchez, Miami Police Department replied.
"Mike! Over here," a voice called. It was Sergeant Dave Johnston. Sanchez followed the voice, "So what we got so far?".
"A little bit. Looks like a professional hit," Johnston recounted the details," One male took three bullets to the head. Another one was knocked out cold with tranquilizers, we're questioning him now. Three guys suffered second degree burns. Five more took a number of bullets to the torso". Sanchez took some time to take in the information and look around. There were chalk outlines of where the bodies had fallen, and black body bags being carried away. "Where's Mary?" Sanchez asked. Johnston pointed to the entrance. Sanchez walked inside examining the jet black burn marks that stained the red carpet and walls. "Mike...here," Mary Bannister the Medical Examiner called.
"So..." Mike started.
"From the preliminary examination, the main target was one Miguel Rodriguez. He looks like he took a three round burst from a 9x19mm automatic weapon to the left side of the head. They punched through the cranium and traveled forward, hitting his brain stem judging from the angle. Looks like they stayed there. No exit wounds. Instant death", she explained. Mike pondered for a moment. Mary had been on ME duties for four years, and she'd seen more than her fair share of murders, so Mike trusted her on her preliminary opinion. He looked around. The guy got in and got out pretty quickly. He got his mark, as the term was in this business, and only took down those after him or were blocking his exit. Very little mess.
* * *
Panther woke up to a splitting headache, a symptom of last night's vodka. He groggily pulled himself out of bed and dragged himself to the shower. The ice cold water shocked him awake. After he cleaned himself up, he picked up the phone and called his personal concierge. "Good morning, Mr Benau. How can I be of service?" a friendly male voice asked.
"I'm checking out this morning. Can I get someone to get my bags," Panther answered.
"Certainly, sir. Is there anything else I can do?" came the reply.
"No thank you," Panther politely answered. If I wanted something else I would have fucking asked, he almost said. Hotel staff were polite enough but sometimes it got to Panther.
He got dressed and then a knock resounded from the door. "Good morning Mr Benau. I'll get your bags?" the teenage bellboy replied. Panther pointed to four large suitcases. He'd brought along that many so that his tourist cover would be more convincing. He only really used one. He remembered his FAMAS Shorty being in one of them. He got rid of the weapons that he head acquired last night by dumping them in a dumpster. It'd be days or weeks before the police found them and if then they did. He'd field stripped them both and by now were so dirty that no microscopic evidence could be found. The bellboy by now had disappeared.
When Panther made his way to the entrance he found his bags were packed in his car which was parked outside the entrance with a valet patiently waiting. He checked out and paid in cash, always in cash. Electronic funds were too easy to trace. That done, he got in the Impala and drove off heading towards Miami International Airport. On the way he detoured to downtown area and picked up a light breakfast.
On arrival at the airport he was greeted by the roar and thunder of jets. He checked in his Impala, which was hired. He picked up his bags and placed them on a trolley and walked to the Corporate Terminal. On the way he opened one of this bags and pulled out the sports bag containing the FAMAS. He then checked his bags through customs. Security had been upped since 9/11 so the customs officers were more vigilant. His bags were X-rayed, and thoroughly searched. Afterward two men came and loaded his bags onto a Gulfstream V. Panther meanwhile went back outside and was picked up by a fuel truck belonging to the same company that flew the G-V. Panther got in and opened up the seat and tucked the bag under. The driver didn't even blink at the sight. With that he drove around to the corporate hangers access gate.
When they arrived, the airport security stopped them. One man looked inside. One drive in overalls and a man in a suit. What the? A man in a suit?!, he thought. He'd better ask some questions, and the answers better be good. "Can I see some ID," the husky voice said. Both men pulled out their wallets, and handed over their ID. "Fuel, all your carrying?" he asked.
"Ya", the driver responded.
The officer looked at Panther. "Mr Arturo. I'm guessing you don't do fuel?"
"No," Panther began "I actually own Arcus Air. I'm here getting in the trenches with my employees to see how things go on and see how I can improve the status quo".
"I see," the officer responded. He looked at the logo on the side of the truck. The story was plausible enough. He waved them through. The driver accelerated and drove to the Arcus Air hangar. Arcus Air was a moderately successful air charter company that operate five G-Vs. Panther used it as a good cover for his activities, but it wasn't his main source of income. There was the G-V and a jeep which drove the bags up. Panther hopped out of truck, withdrawing the sports bag. He stepped inside the G-V and sat down in his custom interior, and waited for the plane to leave.
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