The Complete CV

"Jesus...Jesus Christ..." he said. "Thank you...thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," Michaels said as he took a look at the file on his table. "Because you're going to tell me everything you know about Manny DeLuca's operation."

LA International Airport.

"Passport please Madame," the customs official was polite as she handed it to him. He looked at it for a moment, and then picked up a telephone handset. He turned away from her and said something she couldn't pick up on.

"Is there some sort of problem?" she asked. Several burly looking security officials moved over in her direction, accompanied by a man dressed in a beige trench coat.

"Miss Vincent," the trench coat man asked. "I'm Detective Michaels, I wonder if I could just take a moment of your time?"

"Of course," Cassandra Vincent answered as innocently as possible. "Although, I'm not sure what I might have done..."

"Oh, you know, sometimes we need to check things." Michaels answered as he stared at her eyes, seeing the green-grey colour in them.

"Cassandra! There you are!" the voice from the other side of the security console surprised everyone as a figure approached them. Michaels looked at him – recognising him from a recent "official" function at the Commissioner's residence. "I've been looking for you everywhere." He embraced Cassandra and kissed her, momentarily distracting her from the police officer.

"James, I'm sorry, but this gentleman is a police officer," Cassandra sounded bewildered. "He seems to think that..."

"Everything is in order now," Michaels said. "Mr Waltham isn't it? Our new software provider?"

"Yes, yes, that's me." James said as he shook the detective's hand. "I hope there hasn't been any trouble..."

"No, no trouble at all Mr Waltham, I'm sorry to have disturbed you and your companion." Michaels turned to the other members of his party. "Let's go people." Cassandra and James watched the law enforcement officials move away from them. Once they were out of earshot and the couple had passed the security checkpoint, Cassandra rubbed her eyes. Two small lenses dropped onto the floor.

"You just couldn't resist being my Knight in shining armour could you?" Cassandra said softly. James smiled.

"Told you the contacts would work," he answered. "They had you red-flagged from the minute you were confirmed on the flight."

"Then let's get back home," she said. "I need a proper cup of tea."

"Nice acting by the way," James said as Cassandra linked her arm through his.

"You should see me fake an orgasm."

****

Michaels watched the aeroplane lifting up into the hazy blue Los Angeles sky as Dawn joined him.

"My sweep is clear," she said. "Looks like we struck out."

"Maybe," he said. "Hawthorne, have you ever done the wrong thing but for the right reason?"

"I don't follow sir?"

"Oh, forget it, I'm just in abit of a wistful mood." Michaels looked at his watch. "Come on, let's get some breakfast."

Doctor's Orders

The lock had been easy to by-pass – the internal security systems still had the same bypass code after all this time. She shook her head as she closed the door behind her.Some people never learn,she thought as she pulled her chocolate brown hair into a rudimentary ponytail. She found the house in near total darkness – however her intimate knowledge of the interior meant that this wasn't going to pose a problem for her.

Climbing the stairs, she found herself counting in her head.One, two, three skip four as it creaks, five, six, pressure pad on seven, eight, nine...She reached the landing and saw a faint glow of light from the open door furthest from the stairwell.

She pushed the door enough to see inside. Her ears detected the faint electronic beeping sound from the banks of machines that surrounded either side of the bed and the prone figure within it. Her eyes detected the only other threat in the room – his attendant.

Superficially, she was there to take care of his day-to-day needs – the fact that he could run the entire organisation from this one room was testament to the power he wielded. However, she was under no illusions that this petite blonde was also capable when it came to taking care of herself.

She crept towards her target, watching her for the slightest reaction to her advance. When she was within range she struck, wrapping the cord around her neck and kicking the chair away from under her opponent's body. She pulled the cord tightly, cutting off the air to the attendant's brain as she scrambled to find some sort of purchase on the shiny flooring. A few minutes of concerted pressure and her struggles ceased as her lifeless body was dropped to the floor.

The sounds of the struggle made him open his eyes. She was surprised at how calm he seemed, almost resigned to what was about to happen. She looked at him – he saw the anger burning in her eyes.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" his voice was barely more than a whisper. She tried to contain herself.

"I want to know why?" she said, trying to keep her voice even and calm despite the emotions boiling inside. He coughed –or was that a feeble attempt at laughter,she wondered.

"Because I could." His answer was an enigmatic as she'd expected. "Because you were young and naïve."

"Fine." She answered as she reached up to the machine that powered his breathing apparatus. "Good bye Northall." She yanked the cord free; another machine began to emit a high-pitched beeping noise as she turned her back on him. The sound of his diseased lungs struggling to work on their own was music to her ears as she walked across to the room to the battery of computers. She pulled the chair out from the desk and switched on the machine. The gentle whirring of the hard drive spinning up almost drowned out the wheezing sound of the old man in the bed.

Almost, but not quite.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard for a few moments before she slipped the flash drive into the USB port closest to her. The screen flashed up a simple message:

She turned in the chair, getting a clear view of the old man. His chest was rising and falling erratically. The knuckles of his hands were white as they gripped desperately at the bed sheets. After she glanced back at the screen she returned her attention to his prone form. His legs were twitching now as his body started to experience convulsions. The computer beeped at her. She rubbed her hands and squealed in glee as she removed the flash drive before executing a series of keystrokes.

She got up from the desk and walked back over to Northall. He seemed still now. She leaned over to check his pulse – and his hand shot up and powerfully grasped her wrist. She was momentarily surprised – she thought his frail and decrepit body would have given up fighting now. He pulling her towards him compounded her surprise with a momentary sensation she hadn't felt in years.

Fear.

"There's a hole in your mind Cassandra..." his words were barely audible. She looked into those brown eyes once more as she pulled herself free of his grasp. He slumped back onto the bed, his body finally devoid of life. Cassandra looked at his lifeless face – and for a second she thought she saw a vague, ironic smile on the lips of his death mask.

****

She threw the gloves down onto the table from memory without bothering to switch the light on. Cassandra rubbed her temples for a second as Northall's final words rolled around her mind.

"I seem to recall you telling me that personal grudges weren't allowed in this line of business." Cassandra recognised the voice instantly – it belonged to Lacey. The table lamp switched on, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow.

"How did you get past the security system?" Cassandra dodged the question.

"Are you trying to insult my intelligence?" Lacey replied. "I need to know if you've done anything that might compromise us as a whole." Cassandra found her protégé's approach challenging – and refreshing.

"My dear Lacey," Cassandra answered. "I would never do anything to jeopardise our business, you know that."

"Mmm..." Lacey muttered. "So, who was he?"

"Ah, now the answer to that question," Cassandra said. "Requires a drink..."

****

The surgery was packed as normal as Kate McKnight made her way to her office. She'd been told that life as a General Practioner was easy compared to the five years she'd spent in City General – but she was beginning to question her decision-making. As she walked past the reception window, Mary held out her patient files for her appointments of the day.

"Morning Dr McKnight," Mary chimed as Kate swiped them from her hand.

"Thanks Mary," Kate replied. "How about a cup of tea?"

****

The silence of the office was reassuring, especially after the Edwards family and their triplets who were under two. Kate found herself stretching out slightly in her chair and looking over the records of the next patient she was due to see. She found herself taking another look as she realised that the file was almost completely empty.

There was a knock on her door. She looked up and straightened herself up.

"Come in," she said. A gentleman walked into the room dressed in a dark grey overcoat and carrying a black briefcase. He sat down in the chair next to her table. "Good morning Mr...Thompson. How can I help you today?"

"I think it's more of a matter of how I can help you Dr McKnight." Thompson replied. "I understand that you have a patient due to visit you tomorrow morning by the name of George Cullis for a flu jab," Kate looked confused by his statement and was about to give this "patient" a piece of her mind and tell him to leave, after which she would speak to the receptionists about discussing patient information in the waiting room area again.

"Now, listen..." Kate started to give Thompson her prepared statement when he cut her off.

"You don't have to tell me about doctor/patient confidentiality, Dr McKnight." He said in a firm, yet almost jovial tone. "You have a medical malpractice suit hanging over your head as a result of your time at the City General, am I correct? You prescribed some drugs during one of your seventy two hour shifts that were somewhat...inappropriate for some of the elderly patients from what I understand."

"How do you know about that?" Kate asked, shell-shocked by the comment from Thompson. "Only two other people..."

"Oh, I know a lot of things Dr McKnight," Thompson replied, a warm smile washing over his face. "For example, I know that the senior doctors and practice manager here know nothing of your impending legal issues and should they find out about it, which they undoubtedly will when the legal proceedings begin, your position here will become untenable. I know that your ex-partner has been missing his child support payments for your five year old son and that if you lose the suit, your insurance premiums are insufficient to cover the potential pay out." The air was silent between them. Kate felt the familiar pangs of anxiety growing in her chest.

"I...I think...you..." she stuttered as she felt everything in the room starting to close in on her.

"Dr McKnight, I work for a group of people who are in a position to help you with your problems in exchange for a small favour." Thompson said as he lifted his briefcase and balanced it on his lap. "What they would like you to do," he opened the case and removed a small vial of clear liquid. Thompson placed it on the desk – Kate's eyed became fixed on it. "Is replace the influenza medication you intend to administer to Mr Cullis tomorrow with this. In exchange for this small act they will ensure that the malpractice suit is withdrawn by making substantial compensation payments to the relatives of the patients affected as well as making a lump sum payment to you of one hundred thousand pounds for your assistance."

"What is it?" Kate asked as she looked at Thompson for what felt like the first time in an eternity.

"It's an experimental compound – the mechanics of it aren't really all that important – but it's designed to induce a massive heart attack in the subject within ten to fifteen minutes after absorption into the blood stream." Thompson said. Kate unconsciously pulled back from her desk slightly. "I understand that it's practically untraceable to current forensic tests and contains ninety-nine percent of the same ingredients as the influenza vaccine."

"What? You want me...to kill him?"

"Yes, that's precisely what I want you to do." Thompson said. "Nothing messy – no guns or knives or anything like that, after all I really don't want you to draw any suspicion to yourself in the matter – and as I've said, my employers are more than prepared to compensate you for the act that I'm asking you to consider."

"This is insane," Kate said. "You must think I'm some sort of a nut..." Thompson closed the lid of his briefcase and got up.

"I'll leave it up to you Dr McKnight," Thompson said as he made his way out of the office. "You have my offer, it's up to you if you decide to take it up."

****

The car was waiting for him outside the surgery. Despite the drizzle of early morning rain that gave everything that fresh, morning smell, Thompson saw no need to move any quicker than he would do ordinarily to get to his waiting vehicle. He walked around to the passenger door of the black BMW and got inside.

"Everything go okay?" Jackson asked as Thompson secured the door and buckled his seat belt.

"Dr McKnight has the drug in her possession," Thompson said as Jackson pulled the vehicle away from the car park. "It's up to her now whether she chooses to utilise it. Did you amend the website pages?"

"Just as you suggested Mr Thompson," Jackson replied. "I've manipulated them just enough to intimate that Cullis has a rather dubious past." She turned the car onto a main road and entered the town centre traffic. "Mr Thompson, there's something that's been bugging me for a few weeks now."

"Spit it out." He said as the car slowed to a crawl.

"Why do we use them? The...people?" Jackson seemed to be struggling for the appropriate words. "Why don't we just do the job ourselves? I mean we've been trained in that capacity so why not utilise that training? Or hire professionals if there is a risk of it being traced back to the Organisation?"

"To begin with, professionals cost money. Real money." Thompson said. "Secondly, there are operatives who think along the same lines as you – they prefer to perform the liquidation themselves, however sometimes you just can't get close enough to a target to ensure that it's removed without putting yourself into the firing line, so to speak. I don't know about you, but I intend to retire at some point to a nice little cottage in the country." He glanced down at his watch. "Other times, our employers want the deaths of former employees to appear like random acts of fate – it helps them maintain an air of mystery and fear amongst the hired help when word gets back down along the grapevine."

"Oh, right." Jackson said as she guided the sleek vehicle into the outside lane as they reached the ring road. "Well, I guess I can see why you'd do things that way."

"I can appreciate your urge to, how my father used to say, get your hands dirty, Miss Jackson, however a time will come for that, maybe sooner than we realise," Thompson reassured her. "But be content for now with the simple things in life, like a really good cup of tea, or a well cut suit, or a..." The interior of the car was filled with a monotone ring tone. Thompson reached inside his coat and pulled out a mobile phone.

"Thompson...right, I understand. We'll be with you shortly." He returned the phone to his pocket. "Change of plans Miss Jackson, we need to return to the Manor House post haste."

"Oh, okay," she said as she twisted the wheel of the car, changing lanes. "Is there anything wrong?"

"You might say that." Thompson said as he looked out of the passenger window again. "It seems that someone decided to kill one of our benefactors last night."

****

It dangled just out of his reach. He realised that and decided to make any attempt to grab it would simply make him look foolish in front of her. Not that it mattered to him – he was fully aware of just where he stood in relation to the woman sitting across the desk from him.

"It's such a pretty little thing isn't it?" Cassandra cooed as she looked at the sleek black flash drive that swung from the end of her key ring. "Who would think that such a sweet and inoffensive little thing like this could be so valuable? It's just like me really, wouldn't you agree James?"

"I'd hardly call you inoffensive," James Waltham said as he sat in his office. "And I was wondering when you were going to tell me that you'd taken that."

"Well, if it hadn't been for one tiny little problem you would never have known that I'd borrowed it," Cassandra replied, her voice sounding as sweet and innocent as possible. He smiled at her – her use of the wordproblemwas music to his ears. "Which is why I've come to you...for your help." She detached the USB stick from the key ring, stood up and moved around the desk. Cassandra perched herself on the edge of the desk less than a foot away from James's chair. Her white blouse was unbuttonedjustenough and her pencil skirt finished at the knee, exposing her lower legs and the fashionable shoes that adorned her feet. She lifted up his hand and placed the device into his palm, before closing his fingers around it.

"You'd like me to look at the data on this and tell you why you can't make any sense of it, right?" James asked. Cassandra nodded and then leaned into him, her breath hot against his ear.

"I'll make it worth your while." She whispered – sending shivers up his spine in the process. "So, what do you say?"

"I'll have it ready for you tonight." James said. Cassandra leaned back, then stood up and walked back around to the other side, pausing only to pick up her overcoat on the way.

"Excellent." She said. "I'll see you later then, ciao babe." James watched her walk seductively out of his office, the image replaying itself over again in his mind a few times before he inserted the memory stick into the USB port on his desktop terminal.

****

"So, it would appear that she has crawled back out of the woodwork again." Thompson said as he studied the scene in Northall's bedroom. He glanced across at the bank of computer screens that sat ten feet from the end of the bed. "Have you checked the computers yet Mrs Michaels?" his question was directed to a rather stern looking 40-something redhead standing on the other side of the bed.

"Yes – it seems that they were purged, but not before some data was transferred." Michaels replied. Thompson nodded.

"As I suspected." He turned to Jackson. "Miss Jackson, I wonder if you'd be so kind to get a few members of the staff together to dispose of the bodies of Miss Hemmings and Mr Northall here."

"Right away Mr Thompson." Jackson answered and she promptly left the room. Thompson walked around the bed and stood next to Michaels.

"What do you think her next move will be?" Michaels asked. Thompson rubbed his chin, then ran his hand through his thinning hair.

"I expect she'll come for me," he said. "After all, I'm the one who shot her."

****

The oath rolled around her head in the same manner that the vodka swilled around the bottom of the glass held in Kate McKnight's hand. Scott was in bed and had been for two hours now as she nursed the drink in her hand. The words of Hippocrates seemed to scream at her from the framed copy of the oath that hung from the living room wall.