Free Gettin' Dirty by Sean Moriarty Page B

deserts who wanted to kill bad people. Shit, that money was hard-earned, and I have never been given this kind of incentive to kill one person. Never. I haven’t even heard of someone as low grade as this guy is commanding such a high price.
    It’s odd that he is commanding such a high price. Millions of dollars bounties are reserved for governments putting out rewards for terrorists. I just don’t like the twitch in the back of my mind on this. Frank has always been on the level with me and I don’t think he is in the know if there is more to the hit than this. But even he was sounding wary when I tried to get specifics out of him.
    Heading up the interstate, out of the city, is a pretty smooth affair. I don’t see any traffic until I get close to Dayton. During a couple of long stops on the highway I finally give in to my paranoia.
    I dial an overseas number on a burner phone and wait for the line to pick up. It’s six here, so it’s midnight in Paris.
    “Oui?” a soft female voice asks as the phone is picked up.
    “Simone, my love, how is the city of lights?”
    “Fuck you, Seamus.” I hear before the phone is slammed down and disconnected.
    Well, I knew she was mad, but damn it’s been at least eight months. Shit.
    I dial a second number hoping for a warmer reception this time.
    “Bonsoir?” the female voice is sleepy sounding.
    “Monique, my dear.”
    “Die, you bastard.” And this phone slams down as well.
    Well, shit. Twins are just too much alike I guess. I probably should have restrained myself last time I was in Paris… But I wanted to see if twins were exactly alike everywhere. Turns out they pretty much are. Least in body, taste and feel. Not style though. No, that is where they differ. Fuck, I need their help though.
    I dial Simone again. “Do not…” she starts.
    “Five thousand American…” I say before she can finish.
    “What is it?” she asks in a very clipped manner. I know she is pissed as hell at me but money is money in this world.
    “I need you both to get some information for me.”
    “What kind?”
    I hear someone else pick up a phone. “How dare you call us…”
    “Monique, he is paying us for a job.”
    “Hmph. He is a pig and a bastard,” Monique says.
    “Ladies, ladies, let’s keep this professional.”
    “Yes, lets.”
    “What is it you need, Pig?” Simone asks.
    They love me they really do. They just need more time to cool off.
    “I need all the information you can get on an Ex-Spetsnaz named Gregory Dragovich.”
    “Seamus, ex-Spetsnaz are very close to still being Spetsnaz,” Monique says.
    “Yeah I know, but I need to know what’s happening in that corner of the world and I need it as soon as possible. Say five hours?”
    “That is not much time… I say we charge him more,” states Simone.
    “Yes, I agree.”
    “Fine ladies, seventy-five hundred.”
    “It is a deal,” they say in unison, then the line disconnects. They must be pissed at me, but what can I say? I am a man of passions.
    I am out of traffic and moving through to the other side of the city now, heading further north when I get a text on the burner phone I was using. No words, just an image. It’s Simone—I can tell by the blue and black hair. She is completely naked showing off her lithe figure with her middle finger shoved out at the camera. Yeah, she still wants me.
    The text from Monique with her black and red hair is almost exactly the same pose. She is using her left hand to give me the finger instead. Both women, though, have the same pale white skin and dark blue eyes.
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    T he drop and grab for the phones and C4 is smooth and efficient. I get the folder that Frank has on the guy and his guards. It’s not much, more pictures than anything else. There is a small work-up of Gregory—he is ex-Spetsnaz, has a mean temper and spent a long stint with the KGB. Well, fuck me. That is not good to hear.
    KGB and the Spetsnaz are just two things that make this job more and more