Jetfuel, Chapter 5 – A Sunday Story

Posted bySuzette BenjaminPosted inShort Stories, Sunday Short Story
Image credit: Craig Whitehead | Unsplash

Chapter 5

Several hours earlier that day (Saturday)…

Two men speak via encrypted satellite phones:

“Make it a clean shot. I don’t want her to suffer. But, aim so if you miss her, he’s finished, make sure his face is unidentifiable…I don’t want loose ends with my face languishing alive or dead at Toronto General hospital or its morgue or wherever… Understood?”

“Yes, Your Grace, understood!” replied the triple elite twice decorated shooter for hire, Sebqua. Neroot (aka Jetfuel)’s ex-husband Lord Glasston-Mountbatten’s “doorkeeper” as he affectionately called the hired hatchet-man, who cleaned up after his foibles and mas-demeanors.

“I’ve my reputation to protect. I can’t be arrested by her or anyone else on suspicion of… anything. My hands must appear “clean”…if I am to ascend…” Neroot’s ex-husband’s voice trailed off in his narcissistic imagination, dreaming of his planned promotion…

His third and recent application was denied for “…questionable gaps in his ‘resume.'”

And, having not worked a day in his life, the word ‘resume‘ stung when Neroot’s ex-husband read the most recent denial letter from the Privy, Lord Chancellor, overseeing “considerations for nomination” to the House of Lords.

Hanging up his triple-encrypted phone run by his personal Lower Earth-orbiting satellite, nervously, he doused himself with a generous amount of his favorite cologne. He froze his right hand motionless, as he realized his mistake…

… but it was too late. He now wreaked of his favorite Old Spice cologne.

In his mind, he plotted that…

If Neroot survived the first of his attempts, He would have to go to his plan “B” which meant putting himself “in play” and meeting her in person with offers of “help” until she was positioned for her…final demise…or so he hoped.

“Dag blast it, this bloody cologne might be my death one day!” Muttered Lord Glasston-Mountbatten under his breath as he rushed out of the confines of his Toronto estate house into his dark green Limited Edition Lamborghini Centenario.

****

One hour later…

“So can we meet to share what we know? I take it you’ll come alone?”

“Sure, just a quiet meeting of old friends. Just you and I, no one else.'” He replied.

“Let’s be @#$/%_g clear, anyone, ex-husband or not, anyone who sets me up to take the fall on trumped-up charges and “arranged” for me to rot in jail for an entire year waiting for a hearing to successfully clear my name…is Not my friend, Your Grace.” Neroot reigned in her emotions, delivering the last syllables she just spoke with the sweetness and temperance of one used to biting her tongue while speaking her truth.

“Water under the bridge, Jetfuel…water under the bridge. So… are we on then for the underground parking at your hotel?” Asked Lord Glasston-Mountbatten Neroot’s ex-husband, ignoring her displeasure at being called “a friend.”

“Yes, I’ll see you then. Come alone, please. Let us keep this quiet.” Replied Neroot hanging up the phone. (She smiled to herself, knowing full well that her ex-husband was already lying…he never worked alone.)

Unbeknownst to Neroot, Lord Glasston-Mountbatten her ex-husband, had learned from his own spies within her employer, Section Osiris “O” that he was to be arrested on suspicion of treason.

Neroot was assigned to meet with him in the guise of obtaining the identity of the official targeted for assassination at next month’s G7 meeting to be held in Toronto. Her real mission was to arrest him away from his Toronto estate, where he had immunity from prosecution.

Her employer, Section “O,” believed that their past relationship would entice her ex-husband out of the safety of his estate compound.

It worked…or so Neroot’s employer thought.

Thus, when Neroot agreed to meet her ex-husband later that Saturday evening in the Royal York Hotel’s underground parking, her employer thought their plan was moving forward successfully.

Neither Neroot nor her employer, Section “O” were privy to the fact that their plan had gone dangerously awry…

Meanwhile, back to the present moment in the story, later that evening, as Neroot escaped an attempt on her life by persons unknown, including a female assassin with her exact face, scars, and all, near 333 Bay Street…

Halting her pace…hunched over gasping for breath, Neroot approached her safe place in the city cautiously.

She scoped the outside alleys to her loft at Dundas and Queen streets alertly looking for anything suspicious…

She owned the entire four-story building for safety reasons but occupied only the top loft. A spacious 464 square meters (5k sq. feet) home away from home. Armored glass graced the floor-length windows of the former brewery. Security was airtight and controlled by apps on her phone and monitors when she was inside…

The distinctive smell of napalm came first…

And then…a dark-colored Volvo Jeep with all tinted windows’ screeching tires smoked as it sped around the corner at Queen Street.

Then… the entire building exploded in one gut-wrenching sound…Vhooomph!

Molten debris nipped at the hem of Neroot’s dress as she ran away at full-on speed down the back alley.

Without halting her stride, Neroot reached with her left hand into her bra, pulled out her cell phone, and speeddailed a number in her contacts.

Still running at full speed into the night, Neroot said breathlessly to the voice on the other end of the line:

“It’s me, I need “The Footman””…

***To be continued Next Sunday***

__________

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Published by Suzette Benjamin

Positive thinker, inspirational, writer, faith

79 thoughts on “Jetfuel, Chapter 5 – A Sunday Story”

    1. Ah, yes… “trouble” is an “after shave!” Glad you are enjoying the story thus far. Thank you for your gracious support, for always reading and commenting.
      Happy Easter, blessings, my friend.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. ☄Make it a clean shot. I don’t want her to suffer. But, aim so if you miss her, he’s finished, make sure his face is unidentifiable…I don’t want loose ends with my face languishing alive or dead at Toronto General hospital or its morgue or wherever… Understood?”

    Oh these monsters who rule the streets.
    Who is he who speaks ?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. ☄Yes, Your Grace, understood!” replied the triple elite twice decorated shooter for hire, Sebqua. Neroot (aka Jetfuel)’s ex-husband Lord Glasston-Mountbatten’s “doorkeeper” as he affectionately called the hired hatchet-man, who cleaned up after his foibles and mas-demeanors.☄

    Ah Mountbatten
    Sebqua sounds like a smooth operator

    Liked by 1 person

  5. ☄Neroot’s ex-husband’s voice trailed off in his narcissistic imagination, dreaming of his planned promotion…☄

    No!!! The lengths man would go.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. ☄He would have to go to his plan “B” which meant putting himself “in play” and meeting her in person with offers of “help” until she was positioned for her…final demise…or so he hoped.☄

    In cold-blood thinking.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. ☄Let’s be @#$/%_g clear, anyone, ex-husband or not, anyone who sets me up to take the fall on trumped-up charges and “arranged” for me to rot in jail for an entire year waiting for a hearing to successfully clear my name…is Not my friend, Your Grace.”☄

    She languished in jail on trumped up charges?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, in the first chapter we hear she was demoted from her command when her ex-husband called her “Commander” and she replied with details of her public disgrace and demotion. Her arrest and imprisonment prompted her subsequent demotion.

      Liked by 1 person

  12. ☄Yes, I’ll see you then. Come alone, please. Let us keep this quiet.” Replied Neroot hanging up the phone. (She smiled to herself, knowing full well that her ex-husband was already lying…he never worked alone.)☄

    What a dangerous Tiffany and Jerry game

    Liked by 1 person

  13. ☄Unbeknownst to Neroot, Lord Glasston-Mountbatten her ex-husband, had learned from his own spies within her employer, Section Osiris “O” that he was to be arrested on suspicion of treason.☄

    Huh an infiltrated secret organization
    Hectic!!

    Liked by 1 person

  14. ☄Her real mission was to arrest him away from his Toronto estate, where he had immunity from prosecution☄

    The prosecution doctrine is so powerful

    Liked by 1 person

  15. ☄She scoped the outside alleys to her loft at Dundas and Queen streets alertly looking for anything suspicious…☄

    Oh nothing but stylish comfort for the intelligensia

    Liked by 1 person

  16. ☄She owned the entire four-story building for safety reasons but occupied only the top loft. A spacious 464 square meters (5k sq. feet) home away from home☄

    Oh my word, the entire building.
    I’d love to walk in her shoes
    But oh my feet …

    Liked by 1 person

  18. ☄Molten debris nipped at the hem of Neroot’s dress as she ran away at full-on speed down the back alley.☄

    It nipped!!!
    It never caught alight😂

    Liked by 1 person

  19. ☄Still running at full speed into the night, Neroot said breathlessly to the voice on the other end of the line:

    “It’s me, I need “The Footman”☄

    Just look at this undercover Cinderella
    I’d love that number

    Great Easter Sunday Read 📚 😀 👌 👍 👏

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I like the phrase “undercover Cinderella”…perfect summary.
      Glad you enjoyed the read.

      Good Easter Sunday to you. May His peace be forever your strong tower, your immovable and abounding joy!

      Liked by 1 person

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