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“Yeah… alright, fine.”
I offered him a hand. “Partners?”
He shook my hand grumpily. “Partners. Now buy me another round to celebrate.”
160
With Sean’s help, I began weeding through various jobs he found on the Dark Web that fit our criteria of ‘killing bad people for money.’
Some fell apart once we looked closer. For instance, angry spouses who wanted to get rid of a husband or wife, but their justifications – ‘he’s a pedo,’ ‘she abuses the children’ – turned out to be extremely unlikely once we did the research.
Well… once Sean did the research.
You can learn a lot from hacking into a person’s computer… or a nanny cam.
Other jobs progressed to talking to the client over encrypted chats. I actually took a couple of those.
One was in Hungary, where a 27-year-old man had drugged and raped a dozen young women. He’d gotten away with it because his father was a powerful politician with a lot of influence.
Unfortunately for the 27-year-old, one of his victims had a father with a lot of influence, too – in the form of money.
The client was heartbroken about his daughter… and furious enough to offer 30,000 euros to anyone who would kill the rapist.
I happily obliged.
It was an easy job. I made it look like a mugging gone bad, then left town an hour later.
The multiple rapist got his just desserts…
Sean got his finder’s fee…
And I was able to pay my bills for several months.
Then there was the pedophile priest in southern France. The Vatican had been covering for him for over 30 years – we’re talking hundreds of children over three decades – and he was currently abusing a boy in his village. Several of his parishioners had pooled enough money to hire someone to remove him from his job permanently.
I took that one for a vastly reduced fee.
Best of all, no one ever learned my name or saw my face. They only knew me by the name I chose:
Diana.
The Roman goddess of the hunt.
There were a couple other jobs… then more.
Word of mouth spread. We no longer had to go look for jobs – they came to us.
And then…
I got the oddest offer of all.
“We’ve got an odd one,” Sean told me at the pub. We met regularly in a booth in the back when the place was mostly deserted.
“‘Odd,’ how?”
“They want you to whack a guy in the mafia.”
I stared at Sean. “Come again?”
