The announcing system blared, "this is the final boarding call for flight 214; non-stop service to Chicago-O'Hare international airport.  All passengers for flight 214 should board through gate eighteen at this time."

    Collette heard the announcement and hurriedly made her way to the announced gate.  Her bags were checked and would meet her in Chicago.  She had the typical fight with the guards when the metal detector blared its annoying bleat alerting everybody present that she had some metal hidden on her body.  She was instructed to return through the metal detector for a second time and she shook her head in protest, "may I speak with you, sir?" Collette asked the security guard that faced her.

    "Ma'am," he said coldly, obviously annoyed that she had not returned through the detector as he had directed.

    Collette handed the man an official document that stated simply that she was armed and was allowed to fly with a weapon on her person.  

    "Are you?"

    "Yes," Collette confirmed.  

    The guard looked at the document that Collette had shown him and for a second time verified the veracity of the document.  He nodded, "ma'am," and returned the document that the government had issued her, authorizing her to fly with a weapon on her person.  

    "Thank you," Collette said, taking the paper from him.  

    Collette finished making her way to her gate and handed her boarding pass to the stewardess.  "First class to Chicago," the stewardess, her nametag reading "Robin," said to her.  "Enjoy your flight, ma'am."

    Collette politely thanked her and made her way to her seat.  Front row window.  She buckled the seatbelt and settled in for the two and a half hour flight to Chicago.  She ignored the safety demonstration and before the flight was airborne she was asleep.

    * * * * * 

    "Ma'am."

    A voice in the haze.

    "Ma'am.  We are landing."

    Collette stirred and opened her eyes.  "What?"  She looked at the stewardess, not really seeing her, "oh.  Okay.  Thank you."  She twisted her neck and moaned in delight when the bones cracked; releasing their tension.  Collette looked out the window and watched the sprawling vastness of Lake Michigan yield to the tarmac of the runway at O'Hare International Airport.  The engines whined and the plane jumped once when the wheels touched the ground.  

    The announcing system squawked to life, "ladies and gentleman.  On behalf of the entire flight crew as well as Captain Pierce and myself, we are pleased to welcome you to Chicago.  The current time is 11:17 am and a cold fourteen degrees with the wind blowing in from the lake at a brisk eleven miles and hour.  It has been our pleasure to serve you and we hope you will remember us in your future travel plans.  Again, thank you for flying with us."

     The plane pulled to the gate and within moments the jet way was maneuvered into position and the door of the plane opened to allow the passengers to exit the plane.  Collette nodded at the flight crew offering their cursory departure messages and made her way to the terminal.

    Hundreds of travelers milled about and raced to and from their gates.  Collette watched them as she walked through the terminal.  She made her way to the long line of rental car agents.  She randomly chose the one with the shortest line and rented a mid-sized car.  With the keys clutched in her right hand and her lone carry-on bag slung over her shoulder, she left the terminal and, huddling against the freezing cold, she walked to rental companies parking garage.

    Winter.  It was winter then, wasn't it?

    Stop it, she chided herself, knowing where the question would lead.  Stop it!

    Her breath escaped her lungs in a large cloud that faded quickly in the brisk wind.  Small flurries of snow drifted gently from the sky, dancing in the breeze.  Matching the tag on the cars with the large plastic tag hanging from her keys, she found her car.  She unlocked it, opened the door, and shut herself in.  She started the engine and waited for the temperature gauge to drift off "freezing" before turning the heat on.  The air blew against her face and after adjusting the vents she place the car in gear and left the airport.

    Had it been that long since she had bid her last good bye to Chicago and the bleak winters and even darker memories?  Had time passed so quickly that the past twelve months that had slipped into the oblivion of the past could seem like years?  She shook her head at the dawning realization that her past could be connected to her future.  That the recent attempt on her life could be connected to her past.

    The realization angered her.  Her knuckles were turning white with the death-grip she had on the steering wheel.  A horn next to her snapped her out of her revelry, returning her thoughts to the road.  She had drifted over the solid yellow line of the road and had been reprimanded by the driver of the car heading the other way.  

    Don't think, she thought to herself.  But she couldn't stop herself from reliving the past and trying to find the connection to her present.  One begot the other and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection.  

    Involuntarily she whimpered, "Harold."

    She couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection with Harold and her trip to Chicago.  It couldn't be merely coincidence.  There was a connection as sure as the sun would rise in the morning and glint brightly off of the pristine snow.  She shook back the thoughts that were drifting into her mind, now wanting her eyes to well with tears and flow like a river down her rosy cheeks.  No, now was not the time to ponder the past and mourn the dead.  Now was the time to track down Kilandra Mentere and her assistant Christine Balester.

    She had connections in the city having lived here for nearly five years and more than half that time she had been privy to the dark underground that made a city dangerous at night.  She chuckled softly, it wasn't dangerous to her, of course.  She could more than handle any would-be felon that emerged from the darkness thinking she was easy prey.  But she did have connections and she would use them to track down the woman that hired Mark to assassinate her.  

    It was time to call in a few favors.

    * * * * *

    "Then it is arranged?"

    "Yes.  You will meet with Christine at eleven-thirty this evening.  She doesn't know who you are; she thinks you want to hire her for a murder.  She respects force greatly, treat her softly and the meeting will not go well.  Treat her with kids gloves and you will be thrown out on your ass.  Be rough with her and she will respect you.  Any questions?"

    "No.  Thank you, Tom.  I appreciate it."

    He stepped forward and embraced her.  Holding her in his arms he whispered to her, "sorry about, Harold.  I know what he meant to you."

    Collette hugged him back.  "Thanks Tom.  That means alot."

    And once again the two friends departed.

* * * * * 

    Collette sat in her rental car and watched the entrance to the cheap, seedy restaurant.  A flashing neon sign proclaimed: We Never Close.  It was one of those cliché restaurants you see in cheesy cop dramas on low-budget television stations.  Dirty windows and floors with a long counter with tattered barstool cushions and a dozen booths with chipped Formica and stained trim.  It was filthy and it was perfect for the meeting with Christine Balester.

    It was not the type of place that cops would frequent.  Instead it was the type of place that the seedy undercurrent of society would frequent and perform illegal activities.  Drug deals and assaults were the norm at this facility and even the proprietor of the restaurant was a large, powerful man that would intimidate any who saw him.

    Collette locked the car and made her way into the restaurant.  She nodded to the big black man behind the counter and said, "beer, please."

    He nodded.  Two words but so much was said, he knew immediately that she was not lost and did not feel in the least bit frightened by where she was.  The small exchange spoke volumes and he turned his attention to retrieving the beer that Collette had ordered.  She thanked him when he delivered it and watched as he returned to his vigil behind the counter.

    Collette sipped the cold beer and waited for Christine to arrive.  She didn't have long to wait.  When her beer was half finished an attractive, red-haired woman entered the restaurant.  She was dressed in a dark blue pants suit with a thick belt around her narrow waist.  Her hair hung to her shoulders and she carried a small handbag in her small hands.  Collette nodded at her and climbed to her feet as Christine approached.

    "You must be Janet," Christine said as she held her hand up to Collette.

    Collette shook her hand and said, "not exactly.  Please have a seat." Collette retook her seat as Christine sat opposite her.

    Christine's brow furrowed, "I was supposed to meet a woman by the name of Janet.  Are you not her?"  

    "I am who you were to meet," Collette said not revealing who she was.  Christine seemed agitated and Collette liked that, she liked that Christine had been caught off guard, it would make her easier to handle.  The vague way she answered Christine's query would serve her well.  

   "Who are you?" Her voice was tight, her body poised to flee or attack, whatever the situation warranted.

    "Collette."

    "I don't..." her voice trailed off and her face contorted into a mask of understanding.  "A pleasure to finally meet you."

    Collette was taken aback, her eyes opening wide in surprise, that was not the response she had expected.  "You were expecting me?"

    "Of course.  I want to hire you."  Christine laughed softly, pleased with herself.  She had the upper hand and she knew it.  She did not like being on the wrong end of a surprise and had been slightly confused at the onset when the woman had been less than forthcoming about who she was.  She had known that Collette would be coming, she had arranged it when she had hired Mark.

    Collette shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs of confusion.  "Hire me?"

    Christine laughed, a soft, gentle sound, "yes.  I am having problems with my employer and I want you to take care of her.  I promise that you will want to."

    "How did you know I would be coming?"  Collette was perplexed and her confusion was evident in her tone.

    "I hired Mark.  He was, how can I put this, incompetent.  There was no way that he would even remotely succeed in completing his assignment against one as talented as you are.  Assuming, of course, that your reputation is accurate." She paused and made a gesture to the man behind the counter, indicating that she would like a beer as well.  When the man nodded Christine returned her attention to Collette, "and I can see, that I was correct.  Where is Mark?"

    Collette's face contorted into a scowl, she did not like being manipulated as easily as she was.  There was anger in her voice when she replied, "sold into slavery.  He will never be seen again."

    Christine laughed heartily, "oh, that's good!"

   Collette said nothing, she sat waiting for Christine to continue.

    "Anyway," Christine said, "Mark was instructed by a friend of mine posing as my boss that he was to kill you.  He had no idea he had been set up to fail.  I must commend... thank you," she said as she turned to accept her beer that had just been delivered.  She took a sip and set the bottle onto the table.  "Anyway," she continued, "I must commend you on how you handled Mark.  You didn't kill him and still he won't ever bother you again.  Very clever."

    Sounding terse Collette said, "thank you.  Now, what do you want with me?"

    "Good, straight to the point. I like that.  As I said, I want you to kill my boss.  I believe that you will want to when I tell you what you already suspect.  Though why you suspect what you do may not be entirely true.  I have desires to become more powerful here than I am and will gain a lot of power if my employer is removed."

   "Go on."

    Christine took another sip of her beer.  She swallowed, watching Collette sitting across from her.  Collette was tense and uncomfortable, the muscles in her arms coiled to pounce and her lips tightly pursed.  Collette appeared prepared to attack, like a cornered cat realizing it was trapped.  Christine set her beer down and smiled, trying to put the woman across from her at ease.  It would do her no good if Collette just up and left before their business was concluded.

    Collette took a sip of her own beer and commanded herself to be calm.  She felt disconnected with herself.  It was unlike her to be caught so off guard.  She knew that she would meet Christine, but it had floored her that Christine had not only known her, but knew of her.  In her business being unknown was far better than being know and she valued her anonymity.  Collette took a deep breath, berating herself for her obvious unease.  Calm yourself, she commanded her taut mind.

    Collette set her beer down and sighed softly.  She waited patiently for Christine to continue.  Collette nearly spilled her beer when Christine spoke again.

    "Sorry to hear about Harold."

     "Whatdo you know about Harold?" Collette asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.  

    Christine took another sip of her beer and said, "anyway, I want you to kill my employer."

    Collette noticed how her question had been ignored and let it pass for the moment, "why?  And I don't want to hear because you want more power."

    Christine exhaled, "my employer...."

    "Kilandra."

    "Yes, Kilandra.  She has been working behind my back on something and I'm not entirely sure what it is.  She has been making a lot of phone calls to the Middle East and while I am not privy to a lot of the financial records of our," her eyes rolled, "organization.  What I have seen is millions of dollars leaving the country.  I want her out of the way.  I want whatever she is planning revealed and stopped.  With her gone I can return our operation to the status quo and will be powerful because of it."

    Collette had to admit that something did sound wrong with what Kilandra was doing but it did not answer why she was the one sitting opposite Christine.  "Why me?"

    "Vengeance."

* * * * *

    The wind was blowing heavily off the lake, cutting through Collette's body.  Snow fell in sheets, covering the ground in a blanket of white.  She shivered, a silent protest to the blistering cold.  She felt Harold's hand squeezed her hand tighter and she smiled.  He loved her and she knew it, his hand held hers and she warmed at the touch.  She looked over at him and smiled.

    They were heading out to lunch, opting to brave the elements for the short walk to the restaurant.  Hand in hand they trudged through the ever-rising snow.  The air was cold and the sky a bland gray.  The sun, when it did peek through the racing clouds, was blinding, glinting off the snow.  Their breath came in rough gasps, visible in the air as it slowly dissipated into oblivion.

    And in the cold day, life changed.

    A shot rang out, echoing loudly in the air.  Harold gasped and fell to his knees, his hand pulling slowly from Collette's firm grip.  She looked down at him in shocked disbelief and dropped to her knees as rage and denial filled her thoughts.  Blood spilled from his chest and turned the fresh snow pink.  His mouth opened and closed in a parody of a ventriloquists dummy.  

    Collette looked around, wondering where the shot came from.  She could see no assailant and not seeing the person that had so abruptly changed her life she diverted her attention back to Harold.  "Can you hear me?"  She was shouting, panic edging her throat.  "Can you hear me.  It's okay, honey.  It'll be okay."  

    His mouth opened and closed and a small cloud of steam escaped his lips. 

    Harold's hand fell onto the snow-covered sidewalk and his elbow collapsed under his weight, sending him falling onto the ground.  The thud was deafening in Collette's ears and she gasped involuntarily at the sound.  "Harold," she shouted, "can you hear me?  Please, God, please!"

    Collette rolled him over, his blood staining her hands.  He moaned and exhaled sharply, his breath floating away in a mist.  

    "No," Collette whimpered.  She unzipped his coat and pulled his shirt from his pants, looking for the wound.  His skin was stained with blood and Collette fell backwards onto the cold snow when her hand came to the wound.  The bullet had pierced his chest and ripped through his heart.  He was lying on his back on the snow-blanketed sidewalk, his breathing becoming thin.

    Collette watched with open-mouthed denial as his breathing slowed.  The air that escaped his lips floated above his face and drifted away.  Each breath was weaker and more shallow then the last.  The fog that hovered above Harold's mouth grew smaller and smaller, each breath drifting away more rapidly than the last. 

    Until, finally, no breath emerged from his mouth and no cloud of mist appeared, and Harold lay dead.

    And sitting in the snow, Collette cried.

* * * * *

    She was almost afraid to ask, "vengeance?"

    Christine nodded slowly, "it was Kilandra that murdered Harold.  The bullet was intended for you and her assassin missed.  The snow and wind of that Winter day hindered his shot."  Kilandra paused, letting the news sink in.  

    Collette was making fists with both her hands under the worn table covered with the chipped lime green Formica.  Kilandra had killed her Harold and Christine was right when she said "vengeance."  She would want to bring justice upon her, the woman that had murdered Harold had to pay for what she did.  Collette had killed, and though she often regretted the necessity of it, it was occasionally warranted.

    This was one of those times.  Tight-lipped Collette asked, "what exactly do you want me to do?"

   "I want you to find out about the calls that Kilandra is making, I want her brought down.  You can do with her what you want, I don't care.  What I want is her out of the way anyway you see fit.  With Kilandra gone I will step forward and assume control of her empire.  Your vengeance will be complete and I will have much more power.  I will try and make it easy for you."  Christine reached into her purse and pulled out a key ring with four keys affixed to it, "take these.  They will get you into Kilandra's home as well as her office."

    Collette took the keys, "I assume there is an alarm system?"

    "Yes," Christine agreed, "there are security measures you may have to overcome.  What I know is that the access code to her home security system is one four one one.  She has armed guards that work constantly.  They will have to be taken care of somehow; how, I don't care.  Can you do it," she paused briefly and then said, "no, will you do it?"

    There was no hesitation, thoughts of Harold spurring her decision, "yes."

    "Very good," Christine said sounding elated.

   Collette was shaking her head slowly, "I won't tell you when I will do it."

    "Of course, just do it quickly."

    Collette said nothing.  She would not reveal when she would act.  There was always the possibility that Christine would have second thoughts and any information Collette imparted would then come back to haunt her.  Silence really was golden.  "I will get it done.  Don't worry."  

    And Christine smiled, "oh, I am not worried.  You know how to reach me, obviously," she said indicating the small restaurant they were seated in,  Collette had scheduled this meeting.  "Call me when the job is finished."

    Collette shook Christine's hand and the two parted ways.

* * * * *

    Collette checked out of her hotel room as soon as her meeting with Christine ended.  She knew better that to risk being visible in the city now that she had a job to do.  She had said she would get it done and she plColletted on commencing it immediately.  She would not wait and give Christine the time to change her mind or warn her employer.

    She made a phone call to an old contact and made plans to meet at six in the morning to take delivery of the items she would need to breach the security of Kilandra's home and take care of finding the information Christine requested as well as taking her revenge on the murderer of her Harold.  She planned on performing her new job within twenty-four hours.

    She looked at her watch; it was just past two in the morning.  Her meeting with Christine had lasted just under and hour and the trip to the hotel to sign out had eaten the last hour.  She would need a place to stay until the sun set the next day and she knew who to call.  She would visit an old friend of hers.  Smiling broadly she wondered if he still had his toys.