Spy Versus Spy

Chapter One

A buzz filled the enormous lobby of the courthouse as a mass of people parted way for an entourage at least ten deep. All but one were dressed in the sharpest suits made of the finest black Italian wool. Their eyes were protected by dark-tinted sunglasses that reflected any light in the vicinity, blinding anyone who dared to gaze at them too long. On each of their hips laid deadly 45-Magnum pistols, and most assured, a back-up gun hidden somewhere on their person. Each glared straight ahead, their presence enough to intimidate all who dared to look at the central person of the group, the person these deadly black wasps protected.

The tall, lean man wore a dark blue Versace suit that actually stood out against the sea of black he was engulfed within. His strawberry-blonde hair was slicked back as frameless spectacles sat on his finely sculpted nose. His thin, rosy lips set off against his pale, milky skin as he continued on expressionless. What a beauty. But, he was no ordinary beauty. This man used to be one of the most sought after underwear models in the world, Bushka Nadali. After being discovered at the age of 17, his whirlwind career took him places the middle-classed teen never imagined. He did it all, runway, print, magazines and commercials. He found himself getting movie deals in America before he could even speak English and endorsements for products he never heard of before, much less used. He then married a waitress from The Bronx at age 24 and had two children with her. And, suddenly, the German-Swedish heart-throb found himself "too old" at age 28 for modeling. Down, but not out, he sought out other ways to continue the flow of money into his bank account. So, he formed his own modeling agency in the States and became wildly popular. Within six years, it surpassed Willamina and the most recognized name in model recruiting. Well, the agency turned out to be just a cover for his extracurricular activities. And those activities were the reason why he was in federal court...and the reason why so many people wanted him dead.

He had money to protect him from the legal system, but to protect him from those he crossed on his road to illegal success, he needed a visible group. They had to be the best of the best. Marksmen, professional prize fighters and streetfighters were included in his party of ten, with his newest addition being his favorite. A cute Korean-American girl with blonde hair, of all things. She was feisty, but mild mannered and looked hella good in that black Armani suit. She had a checkered past, which he liked. She used to be a streetfighter, but was new to the underground and knew nothing of his world.

You see, Mr. Nadali had cultivated a lucrative...pharmaceutical business. Tack on adult Blue Tuna sold on the Black Market and his empire was the most sought after in the underworld, especially by the Japanese and South Americans. These activities and lifestyle were new to his little friend, but she was still well informed about the demand for the Tuna on the Atlantic seaboard and who would pay the most for the largest they could provide. Very resourceful this woman was. He turned to smile at her, and she politely returned the favor, then quickly motioned for him to keep looking ahead.

One of the other bodyguards felt something breeze past her ear in that same moment. Assuming it was an insect, she continued her stride. But before anyone could bat an eye, a loud thud was heard as Nadali's body smacked against the marble floor. As if in slow motion, six of the guards drew their guns while the four remaining protected their boss. The group fanned out quickly as the smaller portion helped carry their employer through the crowd of confused on-lookers. Blood dripped on the gray marble floor, making a woman scream with hysterics.

"Shut up and leave the vicinity," one of the guards ordered, his pistol in his hand. The crowd then dispersed in a frenzy as they each ran to an exit. The armed police officers at the door, unaware of the goings on, ordered the people to calm down and walk through the exits single file so each could be searched again. The male bodyguard glared at the female companion who was closer to their employer at the time and ran to her. Likewise, her expression was stone-cold as her counterpart approached.

"Why did you order those people to leave? Don't you realize you could have let our perp go?" she yelled.

"Are you crazy? The wanna-be assassin is still around here somewhere. Their weapon would set off the metal detectors at the doors. No, they are still here," he said, mumbling choice words under his breath. Just then, the voice of the Korean girl came through his ear-piece.

"Change that to 'assassin'. Nadali is dead," were the words said to him. Shaking with anger, he pushed a little button on the flap of his jacket and yelled.

"How! From what?"

"Some sort of projectile aimed at his temple. Whatever it was must have been so sharp it fell out after piercing..."

"That's enough!" the man yelled, pulling his earpiece off and throwing it to the ground. "Who could have done this?! Search this courthouse from top to bottom. Find a record of every single living thing that was suppose to be here today. Do it now!"

Away from all the commotion inside the courthouse, the Korean bodyguard slipped by as the ambulance arrived to take the body to the morgue. The local police also made their way to the scene and attempted to calm the crowd of scared bystanders. As soon as the roar of the chaos had exited her hearing range, she dove into an alley, removed her sunglasses and blonde wig, but kept her sleek leather gloves on her hands. As she exited from the other side of the passage, the woman ran her fingers through her raven locks, which caught the sun like strands of a spider's web and she walked back towards the crime scene. Somewhere along the alley, she shed her black suit and replaced it with a pink velour jogging suit and white and pink Puma sneakers.

People where running everywhere as she noticed as the ambulance zooming off in a feeble attempt to get Nadali help. The man was dead the second her tsubute was aimed at his temple. When she released the weapon, it was so quick, not a single one in the group she traveled with saw the movement, though the one closest to her mark did feel it cut through the air. She smirked as the cellphone in her pink Coach purse rang.

"It's done," she said flatly, then returned the phone to its proper place. She eyed the bodyguards as the all collected outside with defeated looks on their faces, too grief-stricken and shocked to realize one was missing.

"Who could have done this?" the female guard wondered to herself out loud.

"What do we do now?"

Exit: Kayima Kaoru

Or, as they knew her, Ami Chen, a Korean-American girl who always wanted to protect the famous and infamous...when she wasn't fighting in the streets for money. And when that infamous person was a enemy of her real employer, she had to jump at the opportunity. It took only a few months to complete the job. Nadali was quite a friendly guy. While he has two kids with his plain, but lovely wife...he had several mistresses on the side. She knew of most of them. Ami was next on his list, or so he thought. He would do anything to have her...anything. If we was drunk enough, he'd tell her dirty little secrets and sealed the deal with a kiss...and the occasional BJ. Not hard to please, not hard to squeeze...just how she liked them.

Then, there was the wife...whom was an unexpected wealth of information. She had to do something with her husband always away on business or with his mistresses, so she handled the illegal drugs. Thinking she finally had someone she could confide in that wasn't after her husband, she fed her information so readily...it should have been a crime. Kaoru smiled to herself devilishly. What a pity to kill such a beautiful man and betray such a nice woman, but that's how the business goes. You get too close or too comfortable and you'll have a Danny Brasko on your hands.

After assuring her exit was clean, she finally removed her gloves and placed them in her purse and continued down the busy street, chewing gum...seemingly unaffected by the scene. She left everything in the alley...a trademark if you will. A way of showing "you've been had," to those left after the mark is dead. Quite the touch, she thought, as she entered an old warehouse a few blocks away that had been converted into lofts. She took the freight elevator, all the way to the top floor. The doors opened to reveal an apartment of sleek black and white. Crisp, modern lines with a splash of classic pieces. She removed her jacket and threw it on the black leather couch when she felt her phone vibrate in her purse.

"Yes, Boss?" she asked, her voice exasperated. Surely she deserved a break after the job she just completed. He couldn't possibly be asking another favor so quickly.

"How are you, my dove?" the raspy voice on the other end questioned seductively. Kaoru smiled and plopped down onto the soft, plush couch, letting it swallow her up.

"I am alright, just getting back. I need to pack and get back to Toyko," she replied, stretching out her slender form.

"No, I need you to stay there a bit longer," her Boss instructed. Kaoru shot up, her mahogany eyes wide with shock.

"Nani!" she exclaimed, her chest heaving. It was this part of the job she hated...never getting a break. Spending so much time being someone else she never was able to be herself. Though she had to admit she liked the role playing immensely. Even still, she had been gone for several months. At least a couple weeks off would have been nice.

"I know, I know, my pet. You are tired and want to come home...but there is more to be done. I have a new mark for you."

"And when will I be receiving details?"

"Should already be on your counter."

Kaoru got up and walked over to her kitchen to see a manila folder right next to her Cutco knives. She left out a deep sigh as she went through the folder filled with her alias' papers as well as information on her new target. As always, she would have to figure out exactly how it get in.

"Yes, boss. When it's done," Kaoru uttered, then the connection went dead. She wouldn't hear from him and she wouldn't call him until this mark was dead. Great, just fucking great.

Kaoru continued to leaf through the information files. The name of her target was Shishio Makoto. He was in America for a bit of business and pleasure. He traveled with a group of thugs skilled in ancient arts of weapons and death. Quite the interesting man, she thought to herself. He was a former politician brought down by scandal. He married a former prostitute and was named in the assassination of several other political leaders, though he was never formally charged in the cases. Though he lost his office, he never lost his power. In fact, he became more powerful, gaining ties in Japan, the UK and the Americas. His weapons gig had buyers and players all over the world. He could supply any country, any faction with anything their hearts desired...for the right price. It's been rumored he had big plans of his own, but no one knew what they were for sure. He was undoubtedly one of the most powerful figures of all the underground. Kaoru sat down on her bar stool and rested her chin in her hand. This would take another six months at the least, she thought to herself.

No need to complain about it. Within that folder lay her final payment for her last job and the first installment for the next. Nope, couldn't complain at all. Kaoru pulled her tank top over her head and walked over to the shower, not contained by separate walls and turned the water on. After removing the rest of her clothes, she entered the steamy area and began to wash away the day. Wash away the contacts she made, the friends. Wash away the persona she overtook. Wash away the few emotions she had remained and prepared to do it all over again...