The Marriott Murderess

She decided to wear a black halter-top a, tight leather miniskirt, a black, sequined biker hat, a pair of black leather gloves, and a pair of six-inch stiletto heels. Her outfit practically screamed "Hooker" but she did not care, she was a woman on a mission. She double-checked her handbag to make sure that she had not forgotten anything. A Smith and Wesson .322 fully loaded with a silencer, a lock- picking kit, and a vial of chloroform. Check.

She looked at the clock, it was a half past six, and she was due at the hotel at seven o'clock, this was not an evening to be late. As she left her apartment, she was met with a blast of cold air, it was a bit chilly outside, this was her reason for wearing the gloves, but the fact that the gloves would ensure that she would not leave any fingerprints on the gun could not hurt. She climbed into her white BMW, and proceeded downtown. Traffic was terrible; it seemed that most of New York was on the streets. She alighted from her car in the car park of the Marriott on 32ndst. She had chosen a parking spot in the back left corner making sure that her car would be hidden from any potential witnesses, not that she had expected any but every precaution would be taken anyway.

As she walked to the front door she noticed that she was getting second, even third looks from most if not all the men she had passed. She knew she must be looking like a call girl, a stripper, an exotic dancer, or some other worker in the sex industry but she wanted it like that. Murder was not common at the Marriott and she knew that people would remember her being here tonight so she pulled her sequined cap low over her fore-head and used her long, blond hair to cover her eyes. The most people would be able to tell police was that a tall, attractive blonde haired woman with a tan was there. The only thing wrong was she was not blonde and she had sprayed the tan on herself earlier in her apartment. She saw a bellhop and in an assumed French accent; she asked where the elevator was. It was right in front her eyes yet she asked anyway just an-other piece of misinformation to be fed to the police. The young man was either so mesmerized with her voice or captivated with her bust line that he failed to notice the fact that she had asked a pointless question.

As she walked to the elevator she thought about how simple men were, just give them a pretty face and an even prettier voice and they become like puppets just begging to have their strings pulled. She was fluent in several languages including English , French, Spanish, Italian, Portu-guese, Russian, Dutch and Japanese just to name a few , she also had matching accents for all of them. She rode silently up the elevator, exited and then she proceeded to room 302.

Her phone beeped, her contact in the kitchen informed her that he had just ordered two steaks and two glasses of sparkling water. Two? Shit, that meant that the meeting was already in progress, she would have to pick up the pace a bit. Still the fact that they ordered food might suggest that they intended to stick around a bit longer.

She made a sudden decision, she would waylay the room service woman take the food tray and her clothes. She hid in a corner behind a large pot-ted plant and waited.

Fifteen minutes had passed before she had seen her. She acted quickly when the room service woman passed in front of the potted plant. Several things happened in the next few seconds: she sprung from her hiding place, pressed a chloroformed rag to the stunned woman's face, and dragged the limp, unconscious body to the corner behind the plant. She then stripped the woman of her uniform and quickly put it on over her own clothes. "Bit of a squeeze, but I'll manage." She muttered to herself. Her eyes strayed to the hotel identification card on her left breast. She removed it and examined the name and picture on it. She read the name Maria Chavez and looked at the passport-sized picture of her without the slightest amount of emotion.

Age, job, race, religion, sexual preference, and political affiliation, it bore no weight on her mind. She had only one restriction, a rule if you will no underage targets. Her boss laughed when she told him this. She could get in bed with the CEO of FedEx, who was laundering money for the mob and break his neck but she couldn't pull the trigger an a fifteen year old dope dealer?

"My job is to eradicate enemies of the State, not to be chasing after deal-ers like some mediocre, doughnut-eating cop." She always had to be re-minding her boss.

Enemies of the State. That was exactly what the men in room 302 were. She dropped the ID card next to its practically lifeless owner, withdrew the pistol from her bag and placed it in the pocket of the uniform then placed her handbag on the bottom shelf of the cart.

She glanced at her watch and began pushing the cart to room302. When she arrived at the door, she noted the "Do not disturb" sign on the door-knob.

"Room service." She called.

She heard footsteps coming towards the door and stopped; the man was watching through the peephole to see if she was who she said was. After about five seconds, he opened the door to let her A. He told her good evening and she responded with a "Good evening" of her own. As she wheeled the cart into the suite, she observed that another man was seated around the mahogany coffee table.

"Put the plates on the table." The man instructed.

"Oh wait I'll have my glass now, I'm so thirsty." He added in an after-thought.

"You wouldn't be thirsty if you'd kept your mouth shut." She quietly said. In one fluid motion, she withdrew the pistol from her pocket, turned off the safety and squeezed off two rounds, one to the chest and head.

He fell with a barely audible "thump," the look of shock and horror still on his face.

As the second man rose from his seat at the coffee table, he was killed in a similar manner. She shot them once more for good measure, retrieved her handbag from the cart, and discarded the maid's outfit. She locked the door and left. She quietly rode the elevator to the lobby and left the hotel. She walked to her car, got in and took another phone from the glove compartment. She was reporting another successful kill.

She sent a text saying, "The stains are out." Five minutes later, she re-ceived a blank text, this meant that she had done what was required, and that the money would be wired to any bank she specified in the morning. She smiled, she just earned half a million and made the country a little bit safer all in within forty-five minutes.

She glanced at her watch it was just before eight o' clock; maybe she'd catch a movie.