One Down, Three To Go

The light inside the penthouse suite provided a clear view of the living room for someone on the roof across the street. At 11:53 pm, the night air was a nice 50 degrees with no wind and slight humidity. The distance between the two buildings was maybe 80 feet.

As all of these facts swirled through my head, the one thought that came to the forefront was, 'this is going to be easier than I thought'.

The butt of the M-4 sniper rifle, with the homemade suppressor and scope attached, rested comfortably against my left shoulder. As I sat in the sniper's perch awaiting my target, memories started surfacing of the events leading up to this moment.

THREE WEEKS AGO

I walked into the law office of Timothy Buckley III, Esq., 3 days after my grandfather's funeral, for the reading of his will. Aside from me, the only people to attend the funeral had been people he worked with. I was the only family he had left and vice versa, so I wasn't all that surprised I was the only person to have been called in regards to his last will and testament.

“Lyssa Moon?” a man in his late fifties with gray hair and kind eyes asked as he approached me.

“That’s me,” I replied and shook his hand.

“I’m Timothy Buckley, Mr. Nicolo Moon’s…uh, your grandfather’s attorney,” the man clarified.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, hoping the niceties would end shortly.

“You as well, please come this way,” he said and guided me to his office where we both took a seat.

Everything Mr. Buckley said seemed to go in one ear and out the other until he brought out a large brown envelope.

“Your grandfather was very clear in his instructions that you be the only one to see the contents of this envelope. I will give you some time to go through it. Please let my secretary know if there’s anything you need,” Mr. Buckley said before excusing himself from the room.

I sat in silence, unmoving for almost ten minutes, going back and forth between wanting to open the envelope or not. If I opened it, everything became completely real and permanent. If I didn’t open it, I could pretend a little longer that I wasn’t all alone in the world.

In the end, I knew I’d have to open it. Gramps had left this for me and I knew he wouldn’t want me to live as though I were frozen in one moment of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I unwound the string holding the envelope shut, and opened the flap. After pouring the contents of the envelope onto Mr. Buckley’s desk, I began to sort through it. In front of me was a sealed letter sized envelope, a small black notebook bound in leather and four stacks of $100 bills that totaled in $20,000.

The first thing I picked up was the small black notebook. Removing the leather string that held it shut, I opened it to discover a name listed at the top of the first page: Giovanni Daimos. Not recognizing the name, I went on to read what was written below. Recognizing Gramps’ handwriting, I scanned through the pages that seemed to detail Giovanni’s comings and goings as well as personal information. Analyzing the rest of the notebook in chunks, I found three other names with similar statistics as Giovanni’s and became increasingly confused.

Tossing the notebook back onto the desk, I moved to the sealed envelope. Swiping a letter opener from the pen holder at the corner of the mahogany desk, I opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of lined paper that had been tri-folded. This time I wasted no time in looking at the contents. What I found when on the unfolded the paper was a short letter from Gramps which read:

My Dearest Lyssa,

If you are reading this, the cancer has taken me sooner than I had planned. I am so sorry to leave you all alone in this world. If I could have prevented this I would have, but such is fate. I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell is going on with the black notebook that has been included with this letter. Yes, I have been keeping tabs on, or stalking as you may refer to it, these four men. It’s with good reason I assure you and I will get to that. I want you to know that the $20K in the envelope is yours no matter what you choose to do after reading this letter. I have also set up a separate account in the Cayman Islands under you name that should keep you comfortable for quite a while. I know how you feel about making your own way, but I’m asking that you accept this money as I can no longer be there to support you in any other way. You and I have always had an honest relationship and that’s not about to change now that I’m dead.

I told you years ago that I believed your parents’ death was not an accident and unfortunately I was right. The names you found in the notebook were all men involved in their deaths. If you choose to walk away from what’s to come I understand and respect your decisions. However, if you choose to move forward know that not every scenario will be as easy as the first one. Everything you need to know about the men and their schedules you’ll find in the notebook. Everything you want to know or not know about their involvement in your parents’ deaths is located in the safe in the floor of my office at the house.

I’m gonna say some mushy stuff now and I know you’re going to feel uncomfortable with it but I’m dead so, just deal with it. It was hard after your parents died, I know. It was hard for me too. I was devastated after I lost your father, but I had you and you had me and we made it work, I think. I was never good at being alone but I have a feeling you’ll do fine. You’ll be okay, kid.

Love,

Gramps

Swallowing the building emotion that seemed to lodge in my throat, I put the letter back into the envelope before moving said envelope, as well as the money and the notebook, back into the larger brown envelope. I composed myself before standing up to open the door of Mr. Buckley’s office and approach his secretary.

“Hi, could you please let Mr. Buckley know that I’m ready for him to come back in?” I asked.

“Of course, dear,” the secretary, who was maybe 45 with a tight bun holding her hair up, replied before she picked up her phone.

I returned to the office to wait for Mr. Buckley’s arrival.

After Mr. Buckley’s arrival the rest of the conversation involved tedious details of the inheritance of the rest of the estate. Leaving the office, I felt no better or worse than before entering. All in all the best way to describe what I was feeling was…numb.

Brown envelope in hand, I got into my car and headed to the house I had shared with Gramps since the day I lost my parents. Lost…that’s such a stupid way to describe it. It’s not like they were a pair of keys or something. I didn’t lose them. They were taken from me. The decision whether or not to move forward with finding out more about their deaths and completing whatever task Gramps had left for me had been made in the time it took to walk from Mr. Buckley’s office to the car. I had no one left now. Maybe getting answers and a little revenge would do some good. I wasn’t naive though. I knew anything about to come would be the equivalent to a band aid on a bullet would.

Over an hour later, I pulled into the rounded driveway of the three-story country house I had called home for so many years. Removing the keys from the ignition, I sat back in my seat doing nothing but breathing for a few minutes. This was the first time since I moved in at the age of 14 that Gramps wouldn’t be there to greet me. The thought weighed heavy in my mind but even heavier on my heart.

Everything looked the same. It was almost like I could walk up to the door and before I opened it, Gramps would be there to welcome me with a smile and a question as to where I had been traveling this time.

Taking one last defeated breath, I grabbed the brown envelope from the passenger seat and exited the car, heading to the front door of the house. Picking the house key from my key chain, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Looking up and all around the foyer, the emptiness of the house seemed to seep into every bone of my body. Quickly shutting the front door, I moved on with why I had come here. I made my way to the second floor of the house and the door on the left: Gramps’ office. Opening the door, I felt an almost overwhelming hesitation at walking in. Even though he was gone, it felt like an invasion of privacy entering the office unasked. Pushing all feeling to the back of my mind I made my way to the middle of the floor where a large Musa rug lay. I placed the brown envelope on the floor and moved the rug out of the way to reveal a floor safe. It had a number combination to unlock it but that was no issue. With all the information received in the last two hours I knew there was only possibility for the code to the safe. 101804: the date of my parents’ death.

The safe opened with a beep and I wasted no time in pulling out every document inside. The next hour or so became a blur as I carefully read through every word that had been typed or written. Gramps had been right. Every name he had written in the little black notebook had played some part in my parents’ death, whether it had been financial, strategic, or direct.

Unhealthy or not, all the pain I was feeling quickly became a lump of anger in my chest. These men had taken away my parents because of lust and greed; because one man couldn’t get what he wanted. All it took was a split second for me to decide they all needed to go and that Vladimir Gorbachev would be the last. I was going to take my time with him because he was the one who had set everything in motion.

Moving away from the official documents and notes, I opened another letter left by Gramps.

Lyssa,

As you are reading this it seems you have decided to carry on with the task I’ve set forth for you. I am proud of you and yet saddened at the same time as this has been left on your shoulders. The notebook you received from Mr. Buckley gives you everything you need to set up where and when you need to be. The equipment you will need is something you will find under your bed.

I paused in my reading as my mind went to the M-4 sniper rifle I kept under my bed. While other girls had been off shopping with their friends or gossiping about boys, I was in the mountains sharpshooting with Gramps. He had started me early with firearms and when he noticed my natural proficiency he made sure I trained with the best. It never occurred to me that the vacations I spent with Gramps would lead to providing me with the ability to carry out a task like this. It also made me question if this wasn’t a reason Gramps had gotten me into sharpshooting in the first place. Looking back at the letter in my hands, I continued reading.

If at any point you choose to leave this task undone I completely understand. To take a life is not an easy thing. However, if you are able to go through with it, take comfort in the fact that the world and many lives will be so much better without these men. How you choose to move forward from here is up to you.

All My Love,

Gramps

Everything that wasn’t needed for the task at hand went back into the safe before I made my way to my bedroom.

Once there, I made my way over to my two poster bed and removed the case from beneath it. I checked, double checked and then rechecked to make sure everything with the rifle was fully functional before I returned it to its spot under my bed. The time would come for the rifle, but now was the time for prep.

The next three weeks was spent triple checking all of the information Gramps had gathered on Giovanni Daimos. I did my best to make sure no rookie mistakes were made while I surveilled him. I changed my appearance and mode of transportation on the regular so no one would notice I had been following him. I don’t know who Gramps had hired to gather all the information on him previously but they had done a damn good job. After I had confirmed all of the intel myself, I was ready to move forward. I just needed to pick a night with decent weather.

PRESENT

As I saw a shadow move in the penthouse my mind focused back onto what I was doing. Eyeing the living room through my scope I saw Giovanni’s balding head make an appearance. I could feel my adrenaline surge and immediately made sure to calm myself using a breathing technique taught to me many years ago when I was first learning to shoot. I closed my eyes to refocus and when they opened again I felt steadier than I had in years.

A calmness I’d never known before settled over me as Giovanni took a seat on his couch to make a phone call. His couch, which as fate or whatever interior designer he had used would have it, faced the window at such an angle this would most definitely be one shot, one kill. Giving him a minute to settle into his seat, I took one last breath and held it as my finger squeezed the trigger. I exhaled at the same moment the bullet left the chamber and made its way through the penthouse window and Mr. Daimos’ frontal lobe.

I calmly placed the M4 into the guitar case I had brought it in and made sure to collect the spent 308 casing. I slung the guitar case over my shoulder and walked through the access door to the stairs, making my way to the ground floor. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up to cover my hair and made my way out the backdoor of the building that led to an alley I had scouted several days before.

Walking down the alley towards the street and my car I smiled and thought, ‘One down, three to go”.