"OK guys gather round. We have another job." said Anton to Unit Five who had just finished breakfast, except Claire, who was still eating. Everyone gathered round the large 85 inch display fixed to the wall. It showed a photo of a woman with details of her and her life.

"Our next target is Freya, designated as Target 97. She is the wife of an investment banker and as far as we know, doesn't plan to divorce him, however she is spending his vast fortune at such a rate that he reckons she will bankrupt him very soon. Needless to say, he wants her gone in days, not weeks !" said Anton " ... while he still has a fortune left !" he added.

"And is still able to pay us !" joked Keith.

"Don't worry, he paid us in full. She lives in her own apartment in Knightsbridge, a very expensive part of the city, and off course, poor hubby has to pay for that too." said Anton.

"How much is he worth ?" asked Greg.

"About 170 million pounds ... and dropping ... rapidly !" said Anton.

"So why doesn't he cut her off or limit her spending ?" asked Heike.

"She has damaging info on him and basically said she would reveal all to the press if she doesn't get her extravagant way ... 'cause she's worth it ! " said Anton mimicking a tag-line from a well-known cosmetics advert.

"Just how can you spend that amount of cash ?" asked Claire, wishing she could.

"She seems to be buying expensive cars for her friends, paying off their mortgages, filling her flat with designer clothes, giving to charities ... the usual stuff." said Anton.

"There is nothing wrong with giving to charities !" said Claire with milk around her mouth and a sugar-puff stuck to her nose.

"Normally I would agree, but at her current burn-rate, her husband will need one !" said Anton.

"I wonder how many of her 'friends' would stick around if she didn't flash the cash !" said Keith.

"Probably not many." answered Keith a bit cynically.

"Does she work ?" asked Greg.

"Don't be silly ! women like that don't provide any useful utility, and they certainly don't 'work'. They just want to do whatever they want, whenever they want, with whoever they want while somebody else picks up the tab. And when that someone runs out of cash, they move on to the next sucker." sneered Anton.

"Hmm, every girl's dream: choices without consequences !" said Dillan. The women glared at him.

"I have had Keith tail her for a few days to see if she has a routine that we can exploit. Keith what have you found ?" said Anton moving away. Keith got up and walked to the screen.

"For the most part, her routine consists of shopping, shopping and shopping. At about 1PM she grabs a coffee, some food, some magazines and consumes them 'al fresco' somewhere in central London, normally along the South Bank. After about an hour slaving away over a hot magazine, she continues her Herculean task of supporting the UK's economy by more shopping." said Keith a little sarcastically.

"Could we poison her coffee or food ?" asked Dillan.

"We could, but we would be seen on multiple CCTVs" said Keith.

"And the cups have a plastic cover on them and the food would be in a bag, so we can't inject the poison into either at that point." said Anton.

"How about a mix of old-school and new-school !" said Greg excitedly.

"What do you mean ?" asked Keith.

"You know those Ninja movies where they hide in the roof and drip poison down a thread straight into the sleeping target's mouth." said Greg.

"Yes, wasn't that a Bond movie ?" asked Anton.

"Yes, I think so." said Greg.

"But how would we suspend a thread above her outside, we would be in full view" asked Anton.

"With a drone, a quad-copter !" said Greg.

"A quad what ?" said Claire.

"A quad-copter. We used a little one to help rescue you a while back. I was driving it." said Heike.

"Oh cool ... thanks." said Claire.

"So ..." Greg waited a second or two to ensure he had re-captured everyone's attention. " We get one of these quad-copters, a large one, they come with a camera that can be tilted down, a vile of poison, some means of releasing it and a long thread for the poison to drip down."

"Brilliant ... what about the noise ?" asked Dillan.

"We need to do it somewhere noisy, where there is a lot of traffic or music, where we can get a good view without getting compromised ourselves." said Greg " ... and when there is no wind." he added.

"How high above her would we have to be to get the poison exactly into the cup ? how long would the thread have to be ?" asked Anton.

"I don't know, but we can experiment." said Greg.

"Won't she hear and then see it ?" asked Anton.

"We could use a decoy or two." said Greg.

"That might work. Other people will see it, how do we get round that ?" asked Anton.

"It has a 25 minute flight time but it's more likely to be noticed after it drops it's poison, not before. I suggest we have a very short, local fly-in, drop the poison and a long fly-out where we can pick it up and leave." said Greg.

"OK, lets do this. Greg, Claire sort-out the technical side. Keith, Heike lets sort-out the tactical side." said Anton.

To Freya this was another day in heaven. Wake up, coffee, stretch-limo to the centre of London, shopping at the most expensive shops, lunch along the South Bank, drinks at the Shangri-La hotel with friends, stretch-limo back home. She didn't really think about the cost of each day because women like her are amazing, magical and definitely worth it. Her husband would sometimes complain about the humongous bills, but in her mind, he, like all men, were worthless, useless creatures put on planet Earth to support her.

"That will be £5,299.95 please madam." said the Harrods shop assistant dreaming of the commission that the huge pile of designer labels on her counter would generate.

Freya paid-up and said "Can you get someone to take this to my limo waiting outside ?"

"Of course madam." said the shop assistant.

Freya, unhindered with her shopping was now free to wonder around London. She arranged to meet some friends later that afternoon which gave her enough time to have lunch by the Thames. She got a taxi to the South Bank and told the driver he could keep the change from a £50 note.

She got some coffee, food, a few magazines and sat on the grass by the Tate Modern. She took the lid of her coffee to let it cool and tucked into the plate of food while reading one of the magazines. The sound of a couple of buskers playing mixed in with the background buzz of people chatting created a nice ambiance. There was no wind to blow her magazines away so that added to the perfection.

Keith and Heike were in the van parked on the opposite side of the Thames in one of the side roads. Greg was sitting by the Shakespeare Globe with the quad-copter's remote control in his hand. Heike opened the back of the van and put all three quad-copters on the roof.

"OK guys, she is on the grass by the trees in the white dress." said Keith looking through a pair of binoculars. They both powered-up two decoy quad-copters and flew them over the Thames to the grass area in front of the Tate Modern. They then flew them round in circles to draw everyone's attention away from the main quad-copter.

Greg flew the main quad-copter high into the air and then along the Millennium Bridge. As he could only see downwards he would need guidance from the others. When the quad-copter got to the other side of the Thames, Greg guided it to the grass outside the Tate Modern. He looked for Freya and flew over to where she was sitting.

"Got her !" said Greg. He lowered the quad-copter over her looking for either her coffee or her plate. He could now see her plate which was now empty.

"Shit !" thought Greg. The plate was an easier target but as it was empty it was pointless dropping the poison there. He dropped a little lower to get a better shot at the half full coffee cup. When he was directly over the cup, he pushed a button on the controller to release some poison ... straight onto Freya's hand.

"Fucking seagulls !" shrieked Freya looking up as some more poison dripped into her face. "Shit !" she continued.

Greg quickly flew the quad-copter out of site near the trees and the two decoy quad-copters were flown in to draw Freya's attention away from it. Freya wiped her face with a tissue and looked back down at her magazine. Greg flew the quad-copter back over Freya but a slight wind blew the long thread hanging from the quad-copter all over the place and shook loose some more poison on to Freya's back. She looked up again and Greg flew the quad-copter near the trees again.

"Hurry up Greg, she's going to see you." said Anton.

"I know, I know." said a frustrated Greg.

Freya looked at the two decoy quad-copters with some annoyance.

"If she notices the main quad-copter, it's off. And we want as few witnesses as possible." said Anton.

"I know !" said Greg.

"You have been flying that thing for 10 minutes so you've got about 15 left. It would be pretty bad if that thing runs out of juice and falls on someone's head !" Anton reminded Greg.

"For the last time - I KNOW !" said Greg getting a bit more frustrated.

Greg flew the quad-copter back over Freya and released some more poison and this time it went into Freya's cup.

"OK, thank fuck for that, we're done here. You guys ready ?" asked Greg.

"Yes, fly along the South Bank until you see Tower Bridge. Just before that there is a patch of grass. I have laid a large red table cloth. Just land there." said Anton. Keith and Heike flew their quad-copters towards Anton and landed them on the red cloth.

"OK." said Greg. He flew the quad-copter until he saw the red table cloth and landed it there. Anton switched all three off, wrapped them in the table cloth and walked away.

Freya finished her coffee, put her magazines in the bin and walked to where she was meeting her friends. They chatted about life, fashion, reality TV, what useless dicks their men were and how best to divorce them from their cash. After a few Cosmopolitan cocktails, she felt a bit odd, so she went back home in the stretch-limo. When she got home, the driver moved her shopping into the house while she lay on the sofa.

"What a great day it has been." she thought and closed her eyes for the last time.

Index Chapter 18 Chapter 20
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