Tiara had a date with a professional killer. To say that it was unthinkable would be an understatement. Never for once in her previous 32 years had she ever dreamed about having anything to do with a murderer. Yet, here she was, on her way to meet one. A very good one, she hoped.

It had all started when she had made up her mind a year ago: she had to kill her husband. At 38, Denny was a successful businessman, both by virtue of family inheritance and his own entrepreneurship savvy. As with most men, such power gave him the sense of invincibility. Noone told him what to do. Noone was above him.

So, naturally, he cheated on his wife. He never admitted this verbally, nor did he try to hide it. For years now Tiara had had to endure endless late homecomings and out-of-town meetings. She would have stopped caring years ago if not for Denny's abusive traits at home. She had had more bruises than she could even remember. Thankfully -- if such word could be applied here -- she did not have a fulltime job and hence the obligation to hide or explain them to people at work.

At first, Tiara had thought having kids might change her husband. So they tried. She was capable. Denny was not. Instead of seeking help, he took out his frustration to his wife. He was, after all, The Invincible Denny. From then on life had become the more miserable for Tiara, if that was even possible.

All the while Tiara had always confided in Tinka, her only best friend. Their friendship went all the way back to elementary school. The inseparable TnT, they had always said. Tinka, unmarried herself, had long given up trying to sell the idea of divorce to her friend.

Tiara would have found divorce appealing if not for two reasons. Number one: she enjoyed her current wealth; despite Denny's capability of turning into a domestic monster anytime, he did not mind showering his wife with luxury. Tiara never found herself wanting. Everything and anything she wanted was within reach or a telephone call away.

Reason number two was very much related to number one: Tiara herself had extramarital affairs. And she suspected Denny knew all along, being such a resourceful man. If she filed for divorce, Denny would undoubtedly prevent her from getting anything at all by bringing up her unfaithfulness. So, no, divorce was definitely not one of Tiara's options.

Those that she did have included finding another man from at least the same level as her husband. On paper this was not something too difficult to achieve, given Tiara's well-cared being. Approaching midthirties, she had a figure and a face a twenty-five-year-old aspiring model would not mind. In practice, however, successful men who were willing to explore extramarital activities were usually content with their own marriages; public images were still a big deal to them.

One year ago Tinka had added one more option into Tiara's list.

"Kill him," she had said after yet another violent incident had brought Tiara to her best friend's house for the umpteenth time.

Nursing her black eye, Tiara had looked up in shock. "What?"

"Kill him."

Then Tiara had shaken her head. "No freakin' way! Man, that was so frivolously unfunny!"

Tinka had looked into her best friend's eyes and observed, "Yet you were thinking about it. Weren't you?"

"I was not!"

"Oh, come on. What do you have to lose? It's the perfect solution, don't you see? No divorce. No more abusive husband. Just a mourning widow the public would sympathize with. A charming and lovely widow who would inherit a fortune and then move on soon as public permits. See? Perfect!"

Tinka had never liked Denny. If not for Tiara's incessant begging, she would have skipped their mega-wedding. The dislike was mutual and Denny cared about his wife's best friend as much as he did the neighbor's pets.

"Well, of course, the perfectest solution would be that monster having a heart attack and going peacefully. But that's not gonna happen anytime soon, is it?"

Tiara had taken her time to think. Despite her denial, Tiara had clearly warmed up to the idea. "What about jail? I don't want to go to jail!"

"Deary, jail is for losers. Those who know nuts about taking care of loose ends. Look, think about it, all right? Don't worry about jail or whatever. I know some people. You don't think you'll have to do it yourself, do you?"

A few more incidents at home, the latest involving a wine bottle, had finally made up Tiara's mind. She had come to Tinka. "Let's do it."

Carefully and thoroughly Tinka had inspected her best friend. She had decided that Tiara had not been kidding. "All right. Let me find out some stuff."

Being an active, single socialite, Tinka was resourceful in her own way. It had taken her months -- "One can't be too careful when dealing with such delicate matters, deary" -- but finally she had delivered. "It's all set. From what I heard, this guy is very, very good. And the fee is well within what you can afford."

In spite of herself, Tiara had been all excited. "So how does it work?"

"Get a new prepaid phone card and tell noone but me the number. He'll be in touch."

"He" had been in touch, indeed, a few weeks later. "Must've done some background check on you, deary. See, told you he was good." He had not even bothered to introduce himself. Simply, "Tell me all about your husband. The activities, working hours, his affairs, anything. Not now. Think through. I'll call you again in a few days."

After several more phone calls and almost a month, "he" had finally suggested meeting his client in person. Tiara felt alarmed and excited at the same time. Having imagined a discrete meeting in a shady club downtown -- isn't that what they do in movies? -- the adventurer in her was slightly disappointed when this person simply named, "Starbucks," at a shopping mall. "Any concerns with such a public place?" He had asked. She had pictured being caught by an acquaintance while walking out of a questionable club downtown and had answered, "No. No problem."

Now at Starbucks, the meeting was nothing like she had imagined. The professional -- that was how Tinka always referred to him -- showed up on time, without sending another person first as a decoy. He was wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a simple T-shirt -- no black leather jackets or boots concealing guns or knives. There was nothing noticeable about his face and body, no visible tattoos or scars. He was not tall, nor was he short. A bit overweight, Tiara thought, yes, but otherwise a simply forgettable man in his forties -- if you didn't know what he did for a living.

And he was cool about the whole thing -- at last something that resembles movies, thought Tiara. He asked how she was doing over his frappuccino, no signs of being in a hurry. "Fine," she replied. What do you expect? I'm about to have my husband murdered!

The man continued chatting about nothing in particular for about fifteen minutes. Then, at last, just when Tiara thought she would barely be able to contain herself any longer, he leaned forward slightly. "All right. Everything is set. I would not give you an exact date, though. That way, it would come as close as a surprise -- a shock, if you will -- to you. Now, if I were you, I would start rehearsing the role of a sorrowful widow."

"That's it?" Tiara almost felt let down. "I mean, can't you at least tell me what you intend to -- to..." She searched for words, "...to finish the job?"

He shook his head. "Better not. The less you know, the better for you," he looked at her, "and for me." Tiara nodded. She understood what he was implying. Better forget what I look like as well.

"I got you."

The man leaned back. "That said, to help you prepare your part, this much I can say: it's gonna be an accident. Something tragic."

With that, he rose. "You can proceed with our agreed payment method. Thanks." He offered Tiara his hand. Slowly, she stood and took it. The man smiled. "Yeah, my first time wasn't easy, either." She tried to smile with him. Without much success. "Have a good day, ma'am. Remember to act normal."

Tiara nodded and watched him leave. She noticed he had taken his frappuccino plastic cup with him. A professional, she thought with a slight pride. Although, judging by how relaxed his manner had been, he could well have been simply one of those who hated wasting anything. Tiara frowned. She liked the idea of a professional better.

***

"So? How did it go?" Tinka did not even wait until she had fully closed the passenger door. As agreed, after Tiara's Starbucks appointment, the best friends had met for what on paper was one of the things they did best together: shopping. In reality, however, Tiara had been too jittery to concentrate on the task in hand. Tinka, in turn, had not been able to wait to hear what her friend had to say, something that Tiara had said she would not want to speak in public about. Finally, they had cut the shopping short -- just three plastic bags after six shops, way below their average -- and walked back to Tiara's Volkswagen Golf.

"What do you think, I just had coffee with a professional killer!" Tiara moaned.

"Well, tell me! What did he look like? Tall? Muscular? Sharp eyes? Unshaven? Nose broken one time too many?"

Tiara had to laugh. "No, no, no. None of those things. Well, sharp eyes, yes. But definitely not your Hollywood type."

Her best friend looked slightly disappointed. "So really not worth dating, huh?"

Tiara looked at her in shock. "You kidding? He's a killer, for God's sake!"

"A professional killer," said Tinka. "Just joking with you, geez! Boy, are you jumpy or what? So, tell me everything."

Tiara did as she drove her friend home. To Tiara's surprise, Tinka did not make too many comments. It always took something extraordinary for the TnT's talktative half to refrain from talking too much. Murder is something out of ordinary, Tiara thought. Just then it occurred to her that her best friend was perhaps feeling the guilt from suggesting it in the first place, now that the plan was actually in motion.

Traffic was light at that time of day and the trip took less than a half-hour. As they reached Tinka's house, however, it was almost the start of the evening rush hours. With her own house very much a long way away, Tiara elected to stay at her best friend's for dinner.

Tinka's residence was a big house she had inherited from her late parents. Coming from a family of wealth as the only child, she lived comfortably in a way this city's top-of-social-ladder circle called by herself: with two house maids and a gardener. Additionally, her chauffeur lived with his family a few minutes away. Along with the house, had also come several well-performing businesses. In short, life had been a bliss for Tinka thus far.

The house was almost a second home to Tiara. For countless times now she had found herself refuge here. Despite his powerful character, Denny somehow seemed disinclined to have any trouble with Tinka. The two had respect for each other, the same respect common among male lions -- no messing in another's turf.

As if by an unspoken agreement, they did not speak of the plan for Tiara's husband anymore that evening. Until after dinner, when they had moved into what Tinka called the studio -- a sound-proofed room where she kept a full-set home theater system. Tiara had suggested that they watch a DVD movie, but it was clear that as they were watching, her mind was anywhere but in the room.

Finally, looking at the glass in her hand, she said, "I was just thinking. These for-hire killers, do you think they might pull a double-agent act? I mean, like the guy I hired, you think he might go to Denny and demand more money from him?"

"No way," Tinka answered convincingly. "These guys are professional, Tiara. Professional! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I know, but still... Let's say he is face to face with Denny, like in the movies, you know, where the killer likes to brag and tell his victim everything before finishing the job. If then Denny offers him more money not to kill him? You think he would take it?"

"Not a chance," Tinka snapped. "He does not deal with his victim. It's just another job to him. He's not even going to waste time talking. He's a..."

"Professional. I know."

"So stop worrying. Just relax, rehearse your part, and think nothing about it until it really happens."

"I feel so... heartless."

"Heartless? Who's been beating you up all these years? Who smashed your head with a bottle and did not call even once to check on your condition? Who's heartless now? Come on, now, Tiara. It's the best way -- heck, it's the only way! And you know it."

Tiara slowly nodded. "Guess so."

***

It was eleven when Tiara left Tinka's house in her car. Denny had called earlier, demanding that she be at home soon, it being almost midnight. Coming from another husband, it might have been a sign of care. Unfortunately, Tiara knew hers too well.

During the entire trip home she could not get her mind off the murder plan. Despite Tinka's convincing assurance, she was still worried something would go wrong. And she suspected her best friend was, too -- Tinka was simply the better actress.

Tiara loathed going home to Denny. She wanted to call the man she was currently having an affair with, but she could not. James had made it very clear, no calling his mobile phone when he was at home, his wife screened all the incoming calls. She did not want to look weak in front of Tinka -- not that she did not already -- so no calling her best friend, either. Tiara felt so alone.

At this hour, the trip home from Tinka's would still take a good 40 minutes. Tiara and Denny lived in the city's outskirt. As he often said, Denny preferred a mansion out of the way to a tiny apartment in the center of the city. She now reached the stretch she always dreaded. The road was bumpy and the lighting was minimum. Rumors had it that the loss of the ruling government party in this district was the main reason behind the awful condition. There was actually a much better access to the area where she lived, but this shortcut saved her a good deal of time, the other being a long way around.

Like she always did while driving on this particular road, Tiara turned up the car radio volume. The road was not much traveled and there were no houses alongside it. Occasionally, a motor bike would pass by and less frequently a car. Tonight, though, Tiara did not really pay attention to the road. She was thinking about the professional she had hired.

There was no doubt in her mind that the man would do his job successfully. He had reassured her that he had several backup measures available and he would go for the kill only if he was absolutely certain of the outcome. She was worried about the consequences. Will he blackmail me someday? Will he accidentally mention this job to someone? Will I be able to put up a good act in front of everyone? Denny was quite well known among the city's top businessmen. While his death -- accident, the man had said -- would not make national headlines, there would definitely be some kind of media coverage.

"Maybe it's good if he can give me a time frame," she said to herself. "Then I can arrange to be overseas or something." At least, that would give her some time to prepare upon hearing about the accident. She could also ask Tinka to play the protective role, keeping people away on the basis that Tiara was to distressed by the death. Tinka was good at that. Or perhaps she could...

A man crossed the road right in front of her car. Tiara was negotiating a sharp turn and had had to slow down. She stepped hard on the brake instinctively. Still, she seemed to have hit the man, as something bumped the front side of the Volkswagen and he let out a muffled scream. In the headlights she saw a man rolling away from the car.

Never stop here, Tia. Whatever happens, just drive on. Deal with it later. Denny's warning flashed through her mind. She was about to do that when she realized that the man was blocking her way. So she put the gear on reverse, ready to move the car. The man reached to the car and put a hand on the engine hood. Tiara could not see his body and she was afraid she might run him over if she moved the car now.

"Help!" In the air-conditioned interior Tiara barely heard the cry. But she also saw the hand move in despair, trying to catch her attention. Undecided, she quickly got her mobile phone out and speed-dialed their house number.

"Denny!" She spoke hurriedly. "Listen, I'm in trouble here. I hit a man... No, no, I can't! He's blocking me, I think he's injured. I'd better go out... I have to! Please don't hang up, I'm keeping the line open... Right."

Carefully, she opened the door, mobile phone in hand. The man was on the other side, Tiara could hear him groaning now. "You okay?" she called out. She held the phone in front of her, hoping Denny could hear everything. She did not close the car door, just in case she would have to come back in quickly.

"Help me," the man said weakly, almost inaudibly with the engine still running. "Oh, it hurts..."

Tiara was sure she had not hit him too hard and yet the man sounded as if he was ready to pass out any minute now. She took two cautious steps toward the front of the car. "Sir?"

Before she knew it, something hit her on the belly. She screamed and doubled up. Her mobile phone fell onto the ground. "Help!" she cried on top of her lungs, feeling the man behind her. With a hard blow to the back of the head he knocked her unconscious.

***

When she came to, Tiara found herself in a small, stuffy room. She was lying on the floor, wrists and ankles taped. Her captor was there, sitting on a chair and looking at her closely. Stacks of boxes made up most part of the room and a small electric fan struggled to keep the air moving, albeit ever slightly.

"Let me go!" The first words out of her mouth did not sound as strong as she had intended. She repeated, "Let me go, you hear me? Who are you?" She felt dizzy. Must have been the knock she took earlier. She also tasted alcohol in her mouth. "What's this? What did you give me?"

The man said nothing. He simply glanced at his watch and continued looking at her. He was clearly in no hurry.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" No change on the man's face. His expression was serious and relaxed at the same time.

After a few more unanswered shouts, Tiara gave up. She was not a hysterical person by nature, so now she tried to assess her situation. She was very sure she had never met this man. She noticed now her hand bag on the floor near the man's chair, seemingly untouched. That ruled out robbery. And this alcohol smell...

She tried again, "My husband knows about all this. I was on the phone with him when you..." The man's eyes briefly moved to an item behind the hand bag. Tiara could see part of it. It was her mobile phone. "That's right," she saw a glimpse of hope, "he must've called the police and they're on their way now. Let me go!"

Now the man looked amused but still kept silent. This puzzled Tiara even more.

It hit Tiara half an hour later. Her head ached badly as she tried to sit up. She remembered what Denny had said more than once as they were driving on that stretch of the road. "Damn, this road is getting scarier by the day! You'd better be careful driving here alone, Tia. Maybe you should stop taking this route altogether, use the expressway exit." And, "Look at these corners here. You have to slow down no matter what. It's very easy for someone waiting in the dark, behind those bushes, to jump on you." Never stop here, Tia. Whatever happens, just drive on. Deal with it later.

Oh, Denny. She now understood his insistence earlier that she go home immediately. He knew her stubbornness. He knew she was still taking the shortcut in spite of all his warnings. Tiara could not afford to divorce him. Neither could he afford to divorce her, his public image was all too important.

It's the only way, Tiara. It's your only option. Apparently, it was his only option as well.

Panicked now, Tiara looked at the man facing her. He looked as professional as her own hire. "My husband hired you, didn't he? How much is he paying you?"

There was a faint smile now, if not answer. This is a professional we're talking about. He's not even going to waste time talking to his victim.

"Look! Look here!" Tiara was starting to lose her mind. And soon something else, it seemed certain. "I'll work you a deal. I have as much money as my husband, 'kay! Tell me how much he's paying you, I'll give you double. Just spare me. He doesn't need to know. I'll disappear and he will think you have killed me. Promise!"

She rambled on for several more minutes. Finally, the man sighed.

"Lady, you watched too many movies. This is reality. I'm a..."

...professional...

"...so let's not waste our time, I don't..."

...deal with his victim...

"...You're just..."

...a job to him...

"So just shut it, I'll make it easy for you." He looked at his watch again. "It's almost time."

He stood up.

 

Current music: Shakatak - Nightbirds
Current mood: happy