Janice and Jenny had pistols strapped to their chests, each with silencers. Formerly employed by drug cartels in Central America, they traveled the world murdering gangsters, politicians, and bankers
“You know, in England, they call those crisps,” Jenny said. Janice and Jenny rode side by side on the ski lift. Janice was finishing a bag of barbecue potato chips.
“What?” Janice asked.
“In the pubs in England. They call a little bag of chips, crisps.”
“The bag, or what’s in it?”
“What’s in it.”
“So what’s in the bag?”
“Salty snacks. Probably crackers and stuff. So you get thirsty.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know they’re called crisps.”
“But you don’t know what’s in the bag?”
“Various things, I guess.”
“So they just ask for crisps, and take whatever they get?”
“I don’t know.”
“If they want pretzels, would they say pretzels or crisps?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know much.”
Janice treated Jenny this way ever since they had been laid off. Jenny tried to ignore it and stay positive. “When someone asks for a cookie they don’t specify what kind. They just say they want a cookie. Crips are the same thing.”
“It’s not even remotely the same thing. Cookies aren’t served in pubs, and people definitely have a cookie preference. Chocolate chip is number one.”
“Never mind. I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Try harder. You should know what you’re talking about before you try to be all international.”
***
Years earlier, the drug cartel bosses had a meeting and decided murder wasn’t a job for women. “What if one of them gets pregnant? Does she go on maternity leave? Do we have to offer daycare? Will they lose interest in killing once they’re mothers? It’s too risky. We have to let them go.”
The cartel gave Janice and Jenny severance packages and a going away party but warned them if they ever came after any of the bosses everyone in their extended families would be tortured to death. So long as they stayed out of cartel business, they could continue to murder. Jenny accepted the agreement knowing the bosses could have them killed on the spot. Janice grudgingly agreed but remained bitter about being taken out of the action and relegated to working as an independent contractor.
Most of their current jobs involved grudges between neighbors, employees killing off their bosses, or family inheritance issues. There was also a big market for spurned lovers and spouses on the wrong end of an affair but the emotional baggage made the work messy. Just as they started to drive an icepick into someone’s ear the client would call with a change of heart.
“I mean, what are you supposed to do? Not kill somebody when it’s right there for the taking?” Janice complained. “Plus, you never know what someone will do when you let them go. They might be grateful, they might attack you—it’s a stressful situation and people are way too unpredictable. Better to just kill them and tie off any loose ends.”
***
They hopped off the ski lift and took a position on the benches reserved for adjusting boots and bindings. They dressed dowdy, trying to look like a middle-aged lesbian couple.
“That’s him,” Janice said.
“Mr. Headphones?” Jenny asked.
“With the snowboarder gear meant for a twenty-year-old. Okay, get ready to pursue.”
Their victim, a tubby, middle-aged man with top shelf snowboarding gear and hip-hop headphones, looked like an enormous toddler struggling to stay upright. Cheating on his wife with a woman who sold candles at the mall, his mid-life crisis was in full swing. The man’s wife got wind he was moving assets around in order to leave her high and dry. She wanted him killed before this could happen.
“Ruthless, but savvy,” Janice said.
“Kinda sad. They probably loved each other once,” Jenny said
“What’s wrong with you?” Janice said. “The only reason people do things is for money, sex or power. You of all people should know that. Now focus up.”
Once the man chose a run, Janice and Jenny followed close behind. They planned to block him on either side and force him into a tree. If the impact didn’t kill him, they’d shoot him with their rock candy bullets. The candy ammo was a proprietary mix of sugars one of the meth cooks came up with while preparing for a Day of the Dead party. The candy, molded into the shape of a hollow-point bullet, was harder than glass. Shot into an eye, ear, mouth, or anus they were deadly and dissolved completely leaving injuries consistent with blunt force trauma.
As they followed their target, Janice and Jenny unzipped their jackets, laying hands on their guns—ready to draw. They forced him in the direction of a grove of trees off the main run. He began to wobble, unsure how to avoid the trees and the lesbians. He called out, “Hey!” Then again, “Hey! Hey!” As they herded him toward a large ponderosa. Catching the edge of his board, he slammed into the snow but continued down the hill. He came to rest in a tree well, nearly disappearing into the hollow under the branches—one arm and his head remained above as if he was being swallowed by a great snake.
Janice and Jenny stopped, looked around and drew their weapons. Janice took aim and the muffled pop of a silenced discharge was absorbed by the snow-covered trees. Janice fell, holding her face but before she could shoot back, Jenny shot her in the other eye. As she started to yell out “bitch!” Jenny shot her in the mouth. Janice fell, slid into the tree well and disappeared below. Jenny picked up Janice’s gun, removed the man’s glove and put the gun in his hand. Holding gun to his forehead she said, “grab it,” which he did immediately. “Now drop it,” which he also did immediately. Jenny unlocked her boot from her ski, kicked the gun into the tree well and shoved the man deeper into the snow.
Jenny skied back to her car, drove into to town and stopped at a cookie shop.
“Two gingerbread cookies and a cup of tea, please,” Jenny said.
“Would you like to make one of those chocolate chip? It’s the house specialty,” the tattooed counter boy asked.
“No thanks. Chocolate chip leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”