Bernadette Birney sat at her favorite perch overlooking downtown Manhattan. Her high-rise Tribecca apartment was the only thing that she had to show for her many special contracts. It was purchased using a shell corporation and could not be traced back to her. As far as the government was concerned she leased the apartment from money she earned at her day job as an oral surgeon. She enjoyed the precision of slicing into gums and extracting teeth almost as much as being a contract killer. Her eyes gleamed the reflection of one of her many swords. This one was a katana. But she had many others, but she preferred the smaller blades because of their precision. The annoying chirping of her red phone snapped her out of her reverie.

  “Agent Birney, I require your assistance,” a British male voice said.

  Fucking Operator 47, what does he want?

  Bernadette’s hand flexed.

  “Give me the details, before I change my mind.”

  She dug her nails into the palm of her hand as she listened.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  "Aiko Takahashi , age 13. Daughter of Ringo Takahashi, the Japanese tech mogul. She's become... inconvenient."

  A foul taste entered Bernadette's mouth. "I'm not a child killer," she muttered under her breath.

  Her free hand absently tracing the edge of her katana.

  “I won’t do it.”

  "Agent Birney, we own you and this isn't a request."

  Bernadette opened her mouth to say something, but a torrent of memory overcame her. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled her nostrils and she froze as she examined the bloody mess at her feet. A man twice her age lay before her with a bullet wound to the head. The crisp autumn chill of the Prague evening seemed to freeze her into place. Try as she might she couldn’t move a muscle. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way—the madam said her first would be an exhilarating experience. But, she felt nothing. Only sorrow for the man she assassinated. The man said he had children, an aging mother and a sick wife. And she did it anyway.

  “You got all the details?” Operator 47 barked into the phone.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “I will send your partial payment to our usual drop,” he said before disconnecting.

  No fucking way I’m killing a kid!

  Bernadette allowed the sun to highlight her porcelain white skin and golden blond hair, which glowed in the early morning light. It was just the beginning of a very long day to come.