I went into the house, and carefully opened the safe I had hidden in the bedroom. It was hidden under the carpet, so I had to lift it up in order to access. And I started to pull out what I would think I would need.

AR-7, $10,000, the ID I was going to use, and the .38 Makarov. Satisfied with these choices, I locked the safe and went back to the office. Very carefully one at a time I broke them down one at a time, reading the brief I had been handed very carefully.

Lance, Leonardo, Nicholas, and Joshua. These were the names listed, and I read what had been gathered on each of them. There were two other names that the papers said were still being tracked down. One a possible alias of a person already identified, and one other still unidentified. Only known as “Smokey”, and a description. And a final name, already deceased.

I went through the information, they were all from the area of Oxnard, Ventura, and Camarillo. Some kind of independent wanna be biker gang. Ran some little penny-ante criminal enterprise. Cooking meth, stealing and stripping bikes, and running prostitution. Been laying low for the last year and a half, and were finally starting to surface again. And my main benefactor wanted them to be shown the error of their ways.

I finished checking all my weapons, then loaded them into a large briefcase. I put my .45 back into the safe, as this was “wet work” I would not be using my real identity. Vlad had a legal conceal carry permit, Michael did not. And as easy as that, Vladimir Tsepov was on vacation, and Michael Glushitel was back in operation.

The first part was actually simple. I pulled on the short black wig, and affixed an appropriate mustache. Then drove down to Mexico, and did my first delivery. I parked at the border, and with my ID, knife, and envelope I walked across the border. Once there I got a taxi and was taken to an address. I waited at the corner, my dark features thanks to my Cuban mother let me blend in well. Just so long as I did not talk.

I ran the photographs through my head as I identified the targets. Carlos Terrazas, and his daughter Esmeralda. He was doing something under the hood of a car, and I saw the daughter walk out and give him a beer. He smiled at her when she did, and kissed her cheek as she went back inside. I watched until just before dark, until finally she called him to the door and he went inside. I waited another hour until it was fully dark, then went to the door myself.

It was not locked, and I quietly opened the door. I could hear conversation towards the back, and quietly walked to where it was. And after peeking in, it was just three of them. I held the knife carefully in my hand, concealed along my arm so it could not be seen then entered the kitchen. A small dining table was against the far wall, and within two steps I was between them and the only exit.

The father quickly started to stand, and I will give him credit for having courage and keeping his priority. Carlos quickly stepped in front of his daughter and grandson, and demanded to know what I wanted. I quietly assured him I was not there to harm them, I was simply to deliver something. The daughter looked scared, and the father looked like he was about to fight me. I quickly held up one hand in a “stop” motion, and then very carefully reached into my jacket.

“Mister Terrazas, trust me, I intend no harm to you or your family. If I may speak simply, I have been contracted by an individual to take care of some outstanding debts. And in the process of doing so, it came to his attention that one was owed to you.” I held the envelope carefully in two fingers, and laid it on the counter. “Inside, you will find compensation for, let’s just call it eliminating a ‘lame cockroach’ with your chancla. And inside is a phone number, in the event you or Miss Esmeralda ever are in need of assistance. My patron is a man of honor, and if either or all of you wish to return to the United States, he can make it happen. Legally, properly. But not to worry, if you do decide to do that, Javier Morrales will be dead as far as the law is concerned. Next week, the poor man will be found dead in a warehouse in Riverside. Over a week dead, eaten by rats, but his identity proven so the case into that incident will be closed.”

He looked deep into my eyes, and nodded. Then he simply asked one word. “Cubano?”

I told him I was, and after bowing to both of them quickly slipped away and into the darkness. The $50,000 in the envelope in both US and Mexican currency would set them up in a far better life, even if they did decide to remain here.

I did some shopping on the way back to the border, and the bored government employee barely glanced at my ID as I entered the US. Then I got a room in a hotel in San Diego, and called my patron. I told him there was an update to the file. Esmeralda Morrales Terrazas was the mother of a child, and by rough estimate and visual appearance, it was the child of one Xavier Francisco Ramirez. Deceased. He thanked me for the news, and promised he would continue to look out for them.

I lit up an actual Cuban cigar, one of the few good things about going to that cesspool that was Mexico. I could actually get good Cuban cigars. Not as good as I had been able to get as a member of the Glavnoye razvedyvatel’noye upravleniye, or GRU. There, I could use special stores only open to us and get anything I wanted. In America I made more money, but also had fewer benefits of my position.

And after enjoying my cigar, I realized I had another need. I got into the car I had purchased for this excursion, and drove to El Cajon. Once there after driving for a few minutes I realized that I had found what I did not even know I wanted. She was pretty, with long black hair, large brown eyes, and looked a lot like Esmeralda. After getting her into the car she started to tell me how much she cost, but I just held up my hand.

“No, you will tell me nothing. I will tell you now. I will give you two hundred dollars. For that, you will do exactly as I say, and I will call you ‘Esmeralda’. You will call me ‘Miguel’. do we understand each other?”

She looked a little surprised, but nodded her agreement. I took her to a quiet industrial area, where I slid my seat back, opened my pants, and took myself out. She was, decent. I had better blowjobs for sure, but for a cheap puta on the street she was at least decent. I then had her get out, and after pulling off her cheap shorts I took her bent over the hood of my car. Wet and sloppy, but she did move good. And when she started to complain when I pulled out and pushed myself against her other hole, I growled. “I give you three hundred, your cunt is not good, so I take you this way. Shut up and take it.” I then fucked her ass, finally enjoying it enough that I was finally able to cum. And ignoring her soft crying on the hood.

She got dressed again, and back in the front I handed her the money, and when I pulled up at a red light at the edge of El Cajon, I just told her to get out. And out she got. She was still miles from where I picked her up at, but that was her problem. I returned to the hotel and got a good night sleep.

The next morning I drove to Ventura, and quickly rented a room in a hotel that specialized in weekly rentals. Mostly the poor who barely made enough to stay from week to week, it was perfect. People come and go all the time, I would just be another of them.

I started looking up the individuals, and Leonardo was easy to find. He was in the hospital. I went in, and it was just as the landlady told me. Leonardo was not long for this world. I went to a pay phone and told my patron the information. He actually growled after I told him, and when I suggested that he was already gone, he said to take care of him.

“This one might be the most important. I now think he is one that is responsible, I want him dealt with. Make him hurt.” I knew not to argue, so went back inside.

I went into the ward, and saw he was the only one in the room as I entered and closed the door. And he was identifiable, but not well. Sores on his arms, and at least ten kilos less than the dossier reported. Yes, this was a dead man walking, but not for long.

I had grabbed a white coat from a locker and put it on, and walked in and asked how he was feeling. He was awake, and said his chest hurt. I smiled and said I was there to fix that. I had him lie on his belly for a moment, and examined his back. Sure enough, sores there also. I had already pulled on gloves, always nice as there are always gloves in a hospital. I then had him roll onto his back, and leaned over close as I whispered “This is a message from a dear friend of Miss Holly. He is very displeased with you, and wanted me to deliver this.” I then grasped his nose tightly with one hand, as the other covered and sealed his mouth with a large plastic bandage wrapper I had found in the trash. He tried to rip my hands away, but he lacked the strength. He tried to fight me off, but I was strong and fit while he was sick and dying. And I now outweighed him by close to a hundred kilo, and the thick jacket under the lab coat made it impossible for him to do more claw claw at my arms.

I continued to softly talk to him as I looked into his eyes, passing along my Patron’s message that Leonardo was indeed the one responsible for what had befallen Miss Holly. “You and your friends used her, and now she has what you have. And I am to make sure that nobody is ever hurt again by any of you.” And right before be blacked out, I removed my hands.

He gasped and coughed as he sucked air back into his lungs, gasping and asking who I was. Since he could talk I thought that was long enough, and my hands returned to his face. I took over ten minutes, letting him recover two more times before I figured he had suffered as much as I could allow unless I wanted to risk be discovered. The final time I softly said “gryaznyy pedik” as the last sign of consciousness left his eyes. And I remained for several more minutes. Finally checking his neck, there was no pulse.

I dropped the bandage still in the wrapper in the trash as I left the hospital, and as I got gas I tossed the lab coat in the trash there. Then called my patron from another pay phone to say the first had been taken care of.

I took a few days to watch the next target, and to see if any of them were aware they were being hunted. But there were no changes, and I actually had some fun as I waited the next three days. Since this room was paid for by the week, the maid only came in and changed the towels each morning. And she looked rather, rasputnyy. So taking a chance, when she asked me if I needed anything else I said I wanted to know where to find women at as I was new in town.

And I discovered that Karen would not only deliver towels, but she also delivered blowjobs. And when she was finished, I considered it a good use of $30. SO when not checking on my next targets in the afternoon and evening, I was getting better than average blowjobs each morning from Miss Karen. A lovely divorced woman of around 40. The final night I knew I would be there I offered her $100 to come by after she got off work. She agreed, and I gave her another $250 after making good use of her body. She was not young or slim, but she was very good. Ah, how I love amateurs, their lust is more honest than that of common whores.

On Thursday afternoon I went to the house of Lance. And luck was with me, he was in the garage. He was working on a motorcycle, and I told him I was looking for some parts. He told me he knew a guy that could get me all the parts I needed. He was just a kid, but that would not save him. I asked where I could meet this guy with parts, and he said if I gave him a ride he was meeting them down near the Santa Clara river that night.