The Mission of the Heart Ch. 04

"Take care of yourself out there, okay?" she whispered, looking at me at the corner of her eye.

Smiling, I put my hand over hers, gently caressing it, "I will. I always come back in one piece."

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The flight was long, but I managed to survive through the whole thing. One thing I hate about the JFK airport was not necessarily the long process the passengers had to go through, but how the employees giving them shit about it.

Carrying my baggage, I walked by crying babies, foreign tongues, fighting couples, and people who just want to be left alone in peace, like me. The television talked of another upcoming war, and the death of a Prime Minister. Shaking my head, I suspect the Agency had something to do about his death, like the capture of Saddam Hussein (which I happened to be "out of town" on the same night he was captured).

I rubbed my eye, feeling the brown contact lenses drying out. Damn, I hate contacts. I whipped out my pocket mirror, making sure the make up covered my scar.

Finally, I was out of the airport, and rode a cab to a nearby hotel from where Mr. Burn's penthouse was. Adjusting my glasses, I paid the driver, and immediately went to the front desk, then to my room.

Putting all my stuff where it needs to be, I finally laid myself onto the bed, and let sleep take over.

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Flashes of Marco, Charlie, and James went through my mind.

James kissing Charlie, Marco pushing me out of his van with that gruesome smile written on his face. Charlie pulling the trigger.

Images of "The Judge" torturing me.

I woke up with layers of sweat on my skin, my body trembling. Gritting my teeth, I pulled out my gun, along with the silencer. Shaking, I went to the full length mirror,

"Pull yourself together, Pamela," I muttered angrily to myself, brushing away the sweat that was gliding off me. "Pull your shit together!"

I pointed the gun at my reflection of the mirror in front of me, my eyes screaming with fear. Fear? The gun was shaking, my hand trembling of not because of the gun, but what I saw in the mirror.

The girl living in fear.

Gulping, I dropped the gun to the floor, letting the lifeless metal fall. I looked at myself closely, tears streaming down my cheeks. I pointed to the girl in the mirror, asking "who are you?"

Unconsciously, I went to my bag, and got a pair of scissors, feeling the sharpness of it. "Who are you," I asked again, gritting my teeth. "Ridiculous, that's who you are." I raised the scissors close to my hair, as I grabbed my hair tie off , letting my long hair flutter down.

"You are stronger than this, Seventy-six," I muttered as I let the scissors cut away my hair. "You're going to be a whole lot stronger." Piles of hair start piling on the floor, the room echoed with the sound of my hair silently cut and me, silently sobbing.

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"Ahhh, Ms. Elmers, new hair do?"

"Yes," I answered, playing with my short, but not too short, spiky-ended hair. "I thought something needed to change, so here I am."

"It suits you quite well, may I add," the front desk employee said. "You know what'd be mighty hot? If you added a bit of blond highlights in it-"

"I have mail?"

"Oh!" he said, a bit flustered. "Yes, a package. Here, let's see...aha! To a Ms. Catherine Elmers."

Thanking him, I grabbed the package, while his eyes freely traveled on my body. Uncomfortable, I walked out of the hotel as my mind tried to come up of a plan of getting close to this Mr. Burns. But he might not be a very important client if the Agency was willing to put bits of information in the file. I don't know if I should be offended or not to have such a low-standard mission.

Sighing, I pushed the thought away, thinking that I would rather have this kind of mission than being stuck in the Agency Headquarters.

I snooped around the neighborhood, looking for shops and cafes he might be going into, and went in to the same bank he worked. I finally saw him around lunch time, walking out of the bank and going into a small Starbucks Café. Sighing, I abandoned the bench and the newspaper I was reading, and followed him.

The café was flooded with people, from college students to middle-aged business men and women. Pretending to be in line, I looked closely at him, and thought how oblivious he was on the fact that he was going to die pretty soon. I frowned.

Minutes later, he got his order, and a cheery looking employee (probably a college student) greeted him a happy birthday.

"How do you feel, Mr. Burns?"

"Another year older," he smirked. "What does a 49-year-old business man have to look forward to? Becoming fifty next year?"

"If I was to be around your age," the smiling employee said, "I would do something crazy, before the mark of fifty is, well, marked."

"Oh, I'm not young like you anymore, Joshua," he chuckled, "but I guess my crazy birthday event is on this Friday night at the New York Palace Hotel."

Joshua whistled, and I strained to get a better hearing.

"Wow, talk about expensive! I'm sure you'll have fun, Mr. Burns!"

With that, I walked out and called a cab, going to the New York Palace Hotel.

-----

"Staying the night here, miss?"

"No, not yet," I replied, looking around the luxurious lobby, "but can I have my way around, see if I like this hotel?"

"No, I'm sorry ma'am," the stone-faced woman said at the front desk, "you must be either an employee or a guest here to roam around."

Damn, I thought to myself. Signing in to be a guest means staying at least two weeks here, meaning security cameras will get an idea what I'd look like. I can't take that risk. Besides, after a mission like this, I usually have a quick escape plan right away. I can't escape as quickly as I like in a place like this when security is high on alert.

A body bumped into me, and a panicked college student at my side immediately apologized.

"Lacey!" somebody called out. "Be careful!"

"Again, I'm so sorry, miss," she sputtered, and immediately fast walked over to the hotel's restaurant. I looked at her outfit: white jacket, black slacks, black tie...

A waitress.

I smiled, and excused myself out of the hotel.

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"Everything good there, then?"

"Yes, "I replied to the phone that was on loudspeaker. "Everything is...planned out."

Carefully, I curled some strands of my hair into tinfoil right after I put some hair coloring in it.

"Look, " Carrie said in the other line. "I'm sorry I'm not there to back you up any way possible, and the other agents are extremely busy-"

"Carrie," I replied, smiling. "It's okay. I'm a big girl and I can handle myself."

"It's just..."she sighed. "This is sort of the first time a field agent doesn't a-a "desk" agent out there with them."

"Like I said," I replied, curling more strands of hair into another tinfoil, "everything is good. No need to worry."

Everything should fall into place.

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"Holy- wow, Ms. Elmers! You look-" the flustered front desk employee held his tongue. "I mean, you look really, um, really-"

"Well, thank you, Mark," I smirked when I read his name tag. "I went with your suggestion, putting blonde highlights in. That good?"

Dumbly, he nodded, and I walked out from the hotel, smiling confidently. It was Friday evening, and Mr. Burns' birthday party is going to take place anytime soon. My guess, since Mr. Burns' is a well-known rich banker, a lot of guests will be there. Playing with my long coat, I looked up.

The sky was cloudy, and the temperature was dropping. The weatherman was right, it will rain tonight. Perfect.

Underneath my coat was a waitress named Ellen, a quirky, but hardworking college student who works in the New York Plaza Hotel. She might party on all weekends the chance she gets, but she is a pre-med student, which got her to land on a waitressing job at the hotel's restaurant.

Ruffling my hair, I thought to myself how people would buy my look. Well, Mark certainly did, I thought.

I hailed for a cab, and told the driver to take me to the hotel. Eagerly, the middle-aged man drove me, as I muttered to myself "Let's go, Ellen. Time to do your job."

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"Hey you! Are you new here!?"

Looking a bit flustered, I whipped my head around, and nodded nervously. The waitress walked hurriedly to me, and pushed a tray full of drinks to my chest. Looking at her closely, she was the same girl who bumped into me the last time I was here.

"Here, take this," she panted, looking around the room full of people. "It's fucking chaotic and crowded here with all these rich-ass people. I have new orders I need to get, so you take this tray."

"O-okay," I stuttered, trying to look as nervous as possible.

"What's your name?" she asked, putting strands of hair behind her ear. "I haven't seen you around here."

"The name's Ellen," I smiled. "Yours?"

"Lacey," she smiled, her twinkling puppy brown eyes roaming around the room. She let her fingers go through her raven black, medium sized hair. "I'm sorry, I really have to go. I'll catch up with you sometime later after this mess." With that, she sprinted off, leaving me a tray full of alcoholic beverages.

"Well, Ellen," I muttered to myself. "Time to do you job."

To say that Mr. Burns' birthday party was a small one was an understatement. A real understatement. Politicians were here, along with different millionaires, billionaires, actors and actresses. It seems like the world's powerful and richest people were here under one roof, which made my job even more risky.

Getting in wasn't hard. Make a good and legit looking ID, wear a waitress uniform, and look good for the part. Sure I had to go through a lot of security process, but I was convincing enough for them to let me through.

I have to do this assassination stealthily, but with the people in the hotel? It's going to be a tough night, and it seems like the only logical time I can kill him. His penthouse? Guarded, not a lot of employees, but a handful carefully picked up by Mr. Burns himself.

There's a lot of security, not to mention the fact that his penthouse is on the twenty-third floor. Workplace? No way. Anywhere else? Mr. Burns is a workaholic. He only takes a week off from work, and that's only around Thanksgiving, which was a month ago. He has no family (his wife died from an accident five years ago) and no kids.

But what I do know is that he's staying in this hotel, and got himself the most expensive suite. And the main reason he did is probably because he's going to get shit-faced drunk. I wouldn't blame him. I would too on the year before I turn 50.

Too bad he won't turn fifty, I thought to myself as I plastically smiled to the people around me , the drinks on my plate becoming less and less. I looked around, my eyes landed on Mr. Burns himself, holding a glass of wine, already a bit tipsy in result of alcohol. The couple in front of him, which I couldn't make out since their backs were on me, were talking to him, and he willingly conversed with them.

Making my way through the dense crowd , I finally reached him, and he suddenly smiled when he saw me.

"More drinks, sir?" I asked eagerly, smiling like a schoolgirl.

"No, no thanks, I need to save some more later, " he said, waving his hand in front of him. "But, what about you lovely couple? I'm sure they'd want some."

"Alright! Would you wa-" I stopped when I turned around to face this "lovely" couple. But, instead, my eyes landed on a familiar green ones. The girl, which was around 5'5, but 5'7 tonight because of the heels, around 130lbs, had the most beautiful, light brown wavy hair. Her full smiling lips was slowly turning into a confused frown.

It was her.

It was Charlie Carlson in the flesh, right in front of me.

My heart stopped.

Beside her was none other than James, his hair fuller and wavier too, his face sculpted in perfection. He was too busy to look at the "waitress," since his eyes were wandering around the place, which was coincidentally swarmed with beautiful actresses.

But Charlie's eyes were beginning to go through my armor for tonight. They were wandering, looking for something in my eyes. Something in them , something...longing. I shook the thought out of my mind. Shit, I can't screw this up. Not tonight.

Both of our eyes showed recognition.

"Would you two want a drink?" I asked politely, hoping my quirky voice and my disguise are working.

"Nah...no thanks," James answered immediately without looking at me. I blinked, and my eyes fell on Charlie's, hoping they won't give anything away.

"I'll have some," Charlie answered. God, I had no idea how much I missed her voice. Subtly, I looked at her navy blue, expensive- looking dress. It fit her perfectly, the way it hugs her curves. She was more beautiful than any of the actresses here.

"I should get goin-"

"What's your name?" she asked curiously, sipping on her glass. But her eyes remained on me like a spotlight.

"The name's Ellen," I replied, nodding at her like a good college kid would. "Sorry, usually we wear our name tags, but the boss think that it looks icky on us tonight. And you are...?"

"Charlie," she smiled, flashing her white perfect teeth. "Charlie Carlson, but you probably don't know me compared to these other rich folks."

"But you're here!" I chuckled as a tired-looking Mr. Burns walked away from us. "You probably make a thousand times more money than I do."

Get out of there, Pamela, I thought to myself. But my body is somehow rejecting the thought. But the mission...Shit, I thought to myself. I need to put this sticky bug on Mr. Burns so I can track his every move.

"You remind me so much of her," she said, her voice becoming distant. "I-I'm sorry, I mean... I used to have a friend that sort of...looks like you. And, well, she's gone."

"Aww, I'm sorry to hear that!" I replied, but my heart was beating fast. "Did she, like, die?"

Charlie flinched, and dropped her gaze from mine, shifting her weight to her other foot. "I mean, I guess you can say that," she muttered.

I tried not looking at her for a few more seconds, but I dropped my gaze away from her either way. This isn't the time or the place, Pamela, I thought to myself. There never will be. Confusion and longing went through my head, as I continued standing there beside her. I missed her so much...

I shook the thought away, my jaw firm.

"I'll see you later, Ms. Carlson," I said, already walking away from her.

"I-I'll see you..." she replied, but the crowd's never ending noise engulfed her voice. I cussed under my breath, as tears started to form.

Remember, Pamela, I thought to myself. She shot you. Even though you had the bulletproof vest on.

I put the plate on an empty table, as my mind fumed with undesired memories. You damn know what happened next, I thought to myself as I combed through my hair with my fingers. And do you know what started all these

"Falling for her," I muttered angrily to myself, my eyes searching for Mr. Burns. I finally found him outside the balcony. Taking a breath, I walked to him, feeling the cold breeze of New York City. I put my hand in my pocket, feeling for the bug, as I walked nearer to him. He was looking up, staring at the stars and moon in a trance-like state. He took a deep breath, but never took his eyes off from the sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, his hands in his pockets. "The night sky never ceases to amaze me."

I went beside him, and looked up, nodding in agreement. "I agree."

"Y'know, it's funny," he said suddenly without looking at me, "how life can twist your body in different directions. Testing your flexibility to the limit to see how far you can go until you...crack."

I remained silent, but put my hand on his shoulder to show sympathy, and put the bug on him at the same time.

"It's your birthday, Mr. Burns, "I replied. "You should be in there having the best night of your year."

He looked down, his lips frowning. "I had my share of nights like these, but they were...something else."

"And to tell you the truth, those were the nights I regretted having."

I curiously looked at him, trying to understand his comments. "Regretted?"

He solemnly nodded, and his eyes finally had the courage to look at mine. "Yes," he whispered, "regretted. Truly regretted."

He turned his whole body to me, "You know, I believe what we do at the end, we pay the ultimate price for our regrets."

Tell me about it, I thought glumly to myself.

"And if I were to die tonight, I wish to die a peaceful and quick death as the price for my regrets."

I blinked. Does he know?

"Jeez, Mr. Burns," I said laughingly. "I doubt it if you die tonight, you're only forty-nine! You still-"

"Cut the bullshit," he interrupted, his eyes glaring. "I'm not stupid, I know that whoever you are working for sent you to kill me. And you picked tonight to mark my death."

I looked at him with a confused expression. What the fuck?

"No, I don-"

"It doesn't matter anyway," he sighed, shaking his head. "Unlike other people, I'm willing to pay my debts."

He walked away slowly, his footsteps echoing through my head.

"I'll see you later, my angel of death," he called out to me as he went back to his party.

I turned my head, looking at the 49-years-old man faking his smile and laughs with his guests, knowing full well his death is coming nearer and nearer every second. I pursed my lips, and went back in the crowded room.

I'll see you later, Mr. Burns.

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A couple of hours later, the party was dying down and the guests started to disperse. I made sure that the hotel's database showed that the room I put my stuff in was occupied (just in case). I did what waitresses do best, which was to help clean up, but I managed to sneak out of the job.

Sneaking a couple of food and a plate to put them on from the kitchen, I walked confidently to the elevator, passing by a couple of guards. I looked through my phone: it was 11:37pm, and Mr. Burns was already in his room. I clicked on the floor my room was on, and I patiently waited, until the elevator door opened.

"Oh, hey!"

I froze, my body wanting to sprint out of there. A drunk looking Charlie, with her hair messed up, her make up messy, stumbled her way in.

"Wow, must be tiring, huh?" Charlie said, slurring her words a bit. "Working in this fancy hotel?"

Great, a tipsy Charlie is what I needed right now. I smiled, and nodded. "Yea, it is. But it pays the bills."

She laughed, letting her back rest lazily against the wall opposite from me. "So, 'Ellen' " she exaggerated my name," you know what I did just a couple of minutes ago?"

"Umm, I don't really want to-"

"I fucked Mr. James Mosby, aka my so-called-boyfriend," she giggled as she leaned over, putting a hand on my stomach. I flinched, gritting my teeth.

"Tha-that's great, Ms. Carlson," I replied, trying to hide my rising anger. I wiped her hand off, and repeatedly pressed the 38th floor button.

"All hot and sweaty, steaming sexxxxx..." she cooed, trying to walk in front of me. "I mean, his cock was huge and everything, and I got so fucking hor-"

The door opened, and I immediately walked away, as I felt my blood boiling. Instead I felt something else. I felt Charlie's hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to her.

"Ms. Carlson, you're drunk-"

"Do you know how painful it is to look at you?" she said shakily, pulling my jacket. I shooed her hand off me, and walked away again.

"You look so much like her!" she called out, as she stumbled out from the elevator. "Different hair, different name, different everything, but I know those eyes anywhere and they were hers!"

I pulled out my key, my room was only a couple of rooms down the hallway.

"Th-the woman I loved..."