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Dressed To Kill...Part Two

Hannibal Parker

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(( Club Emporium, Capital City, Orion))

It was a short walk from the hotel to the establishment known as the "Emporium", a combination night club and pleasure palace known in unofficial circles as "The Tenderloin." It was known as the place in the nearly spotless part of town where the locals didn't go...it was a place for outworlders, mostly those who traded in illicit goods and information. The alcohol was real, the women beautiful, and the clientele deadly. It was this environment Kamela Allison was walking into with the express purpose of killing one particular man, Phineas Tredeau, a particularly dangerous weapons dealer.

Her choice of outfits was designed to attract his attention, and as she walked along the street towards the club, she noted it had the desired effect on several non- Orion males who saw her walking by...one nearly slammed into a light pole trying to look at her instead of where he was going. It satisfied her that her look was catching...it helped to slow her thumping heart as she approached the front doors of the establishment, marked with two massive wooden doors, muted thumping base pounding through them. The building itself was fairly large in scope, taking up an entire block and reminding her of the warehouses along the old wharves in her native San Francisco. The bottom story was the actual club, which was divided into two halves. One half was devoted to actual dancing and set up like a normal club reminiscent of Risa. The other half was where naked and semi-naked women danced for cash, or walked among the patrons soliciting for more intimate favors which were consummated. This is where her quarry would be.

Kamela calmed her breathing as she walked up to the two large two wooden doors. Two massive Orions stood sentry outside, both of them armed with purloined Starfleet hand phasers. Stepping up to them, one of them moved, effectively forming a flesh and blood roadblock. Smiling as sweetly as she could, she looked up at the towering green menace as he spoke to her...

" Your purse. I must search it."

" Go ahead. Nothing there that would interest you."

Kamela gave him her purse, while the other one moved in a little too close for comfort...

"Now, I must search you."

As degrading and repulsive as it was, she had no choice. Taking out the two of them would be a tidy handful, and it would get her no closer to her mission...in fact, it would end right then and there. As one pawed over her body, the other one ran a scanner over her. She knew better than to be armed. Places like this tended to be heavy on security to keep the real outlaws reasonably secure. From her briefing, she knew Tredeaus' guards were armed, and went through no such scrutiny. She also knew "outlaw" working girls could ply their trade here, and could only be invited to the upper floors after paying a fee, which was sometimes greater than the amount for services...unless it was at the behest of a treasured client, such as Treudeau. Satisfied the only thing Kamela was armed with was a beautiful body, the two guards moved aside, the one who had personally searched her speaking again...

"Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, gentlemen. I will."

The Orion to her left opened the door, which opened outward towards the street, the music now pounding into her as she walked into the dimly lit club. Strobe lights distorted her vision as she pushed her way through the crowd and headed to the bar. She knew from her briefings that the doors to the other part of the bar were off to one side, at the wall which split the two bars. Eyeballing the crowd, she wanted to see if anyone was paying inordinate attention to her..undercover work was risky enough but she knew it paid to be paranoid. She was alone, with no backup, no weapons, no way to call for help. Her only solace was her pickup to take her back to the Federation Embassy would be outside, a local Orion who had been a good source of information over the years.

Kamela, still playing the part of an "outlaw" working girl, walked towards the doors which led to the less savory part of the bar. She knew once she crossed that threshold,there would be no going back, no chance to abort the mission. She was committed, and that sobering thought pounded into her chest like the booming music. Taking a deep breath, she entered the world of the [...]ed...

Phineas Treudeau was not a handsome man, with a large Roman nose, bulbous eyes and thinning hair. His clothing was tailor made and he was adorned in only the finest fabrics money could buy. He wore dark green pants with matching shirt, and his feet were adorned with a pair of ornate boots, rumored to be made from the skin of a Gorn who had tried to back out of a deal. He had made a fortune by selling weapons to those who could not easily buy them...pirates, smugglers, the Orion Syndicate. He enjoyed the fact that he could buy anything he wanted, or kill anyone he wanted, or have them killed. Here, on Orion, he could recline in relative safety, away from the Federation and their pesky Starfleet. Sitting on a couch flanked by bodyguards, he sat before a table with enough food fit for a king. Several people were also at the table with him, celebrating another successful deal of selling procured Starfleet photon torpedoes. He didn't care who bought them, as long as they paid his price.

Treudeau had only one weakness...beautiful women. By virtue of his money and notoriety, he could have any woman he wanted, and this place allowed him to indulge himself with women from a dozen worlds...but his eyes were drawn to the tall blonde who had just entered.. Dressed in Aqua blue, with a pleasing body and exceptionally long legs, the woman was one whom he had not seen before, and therefore, one he must have. He watched her at the bar, her moves as graceful as a gazelle. Now this...this was a woman! He looked at the women he currently had around him, all bought and paid for. Beautiful they were, but the curly headed blonde was on a completely different level. He watched her have a drink at the bar, demurely sipping it if she had been there a thousand times before, but he knew she had not been...he would have noticed HER. Discreetly, he whispered to one of his guards to bring her over. This woman, he had to have...

Kamela stood at the bar, drinking her Centauri Sunrise and trying hard to be not initially noticed. Thanks to the alcohol inhibiter she had taken, she could pretty much drink as much as she wanted without getting intoxicated...she needed a level head to do what she needed to do. The Ferengi bartender was doing his best to make conversation, but his words were meaningless to her. She was sure if she rubbed his ears a bit he would be in heaven.

From her vantage point, she could easily see her quarry, sitting behind a table flanked by several women and two very serious looking guards. Kamela noted they were both armed, and when he leaned down and her target whispered in his ear, she discreetly paid attention as the guard moved from where he stood over to where she was standing...the mark had taken the bait...

The guard moved quickly, but easily, his huge size making it seem like he floated instead of walked. As he approached, Kamela focused on breathing, calming herself before the next part of the operation began. Over the cascading boom of music, the guard was standing next to her, but it was she who said the first words...

"Hello sailor. What can I do for you?"

The guard hesitated for a second, perhaps unfamiliar with one of the galaxies' oldest pickup lines. The Orion was huge, approaching seven feet tall, but he quickly shook it off. His voice gruff, he spoke...

"My boss wishes for you to join him."

" Really?", she replied coyly." And just who would this boss be?"

" That gentleman over there. He insists."

Kamela knew she could not say yes instantly. She had to maintain the illusion of distance, of not wanting to go over until she was ready. Her resistance would make him want her more, and allow the arrogant pe'taq to begin to drop his guard. Looking up at the guard, she shook her head...

"What if I do not wish to join him?"

Clearly, this was something the guard had not anticipated, but as the guard looked over at him, she could see him beckoning towards them with a large, inviting hand, his pig face smiling while doing so. Kamela smiled back, but not in the manner of a working girl gaining an expensive client, but as a predator summoned by prey. Her heart thumped in her chest, duty overtaking her fear as she held out her arm and the guard gently took it...

"Well, it seems like your boss does not wish to take no for an answer, so, my big friend, let's go."

Treudeau watched the dialogue taking place between the stunning blonde and his trusted bodyguard. He was the gentler of the two when it concerned women, and he wanted to make sure she didn't spook...which meant that sometime during the night if she refused him, his other guard would make sure she and whoever she was with would be dead before sunup. No one refused his offers of companionship, especially an off worlder outlaw whore. As the two approached arm in arm, the weapons dealer stood up and embraced his would be assassin, his hands traveling down to her rear end, offering a slight squeeze as he did so.

Kamela almost retched as he hugged, his breath smelling of garlic and othe sharp spices, his uninvited hand on her rear. She deftly removed it and broke the unwanted embrace, disarming him with a smile...

"Slow down, cowboy. I don't even know your name."

" I am Phineas Treudeau. And you are?"

" I am (remembering her cover name) Tara Matthews. Pleased to meet you."

" Sit Miss Matthews, and let us eat, drink, and talk."

Making space on the couch next to him, Kamela sat down. Making small talk for the next hour, Treudeaus' eyes roamed all over Kamela, clearly only interested in bedding her. He was free with his money, and had pressed several strips of latinum in her hands...clearly a signal to go upstairs. From her files, she knew that once he made his choice, he would take her upstairs, dismiss his guards and would spend the night in one of the opulent suites upstairs. Ruthless as Treudeau was, his guards would have the pick of the girls he didn't want, all bought and paid for. The feared weapons dealer would be alone, drunk, and ripe for his own demise...

Making their way upstairs, Kamela played along, laughing at his jokes, allowing his hands more freedom on her body. Kamelas' fear had been turned to focus, remembering every detail of the room in which she now stood. A balcony ran around the back of the suite, with a door opening onto it. It was a short drop to the fire escape, then down to a side street. Waiting on that side street was her getaway driver, an Orion in the employ of Starfleet Intelligence. His vehicle on the street would not be suspicious...he was a day driver for the hotel and it was not uncommon for him to be parked there. Kamela casually looked out the window, and indeed, the vehicle was there in its usual spot.

Treudeau watched as Tara took in the suite. It was opulent, with deep carpeting and ornate furnishings, just the way he wanted it. He truly wanted this woman, an he was glad that she decided to join him. A woman as beautiful as this should not have to end up dead, and he would have regretted killing her...at least until the next one came along. Sitting on the bed, he watched as the woman in aqua blue seductively came over to him, her navel ring just about eye height, her perfume intoxicating in its closeness...it only made him want her more, and his thoughts were of bedding her. His initial caution gone, now replaced by lust, he moved in to kiss her exposed stomach...

Sensing her opportunity, Kamela ran her hands seductively over his head, then quickly moved her hands...her right hand on the left side of his head, her left hand moving down to deftly grab his jaw and she twisted upward, hearing the snap of bone. The feared weapons dealer slumped forward, then Kamela pushed him back on the bed, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

Making sure he was indeed very dead, Kamela left him where he lay on the bed and looked around the suite, looking for any files, data rods, or computer interfaces which might have been there. Finding none during her quick search, she was on her way to the balcony and escape when a thunderous knock at the door almost made her jump out of her shoes. She knew from its insistence that somehow, her mission was now on borrowed time, and she needed to get out of there now...

Kamela knew it would not be long before whomever was knocking would either have a key or knock the door off its hinges, and as the shouting and banging increased, Kamela was out onto the balcony, just as the two Orion guards burst in...

Out of time, Kamela did her best to measure her leap to the fire escape, and she hit it with a solid thump...she knew from the sound she would not be able to wear an outfit like this for awhile....too much bruising on her ribs. Fueled by fear, adrenaline, and the sound of crashing wood, she made her way down to the fire escape and to her getaway car.

Opening the passenger door, Kamela spoke...

"Gatta, we need to go, NOW!"

The Orion didn't move. Gatta was not known as a sleeper, so Kamela shook him. The Orion slumped backwards, his throat cut from ear to ear. Fear almost turned to panic as the whine of disruptors and their impact on the street around the vehicle filled he ears. Reaching over the dead man, Kamela popped the door open and shoved the dead man out onto the street, the guards now seeing the door open, peppering the dead man with disruptor blasts and concentrating their fire on the groundcar. One shot shattered the side window, another, the windshield. Another shot came perilously close to her head, spending itself against the door frame.

Kamela was now in the drivers' seat, and she fired up the groundcar. Driving it out into the crowded street, Kamela went the wrong way in traffic and quickly darted down a side street. She made sure her headlights were off as she traced a roundabout path back towards the Federation Embassy. She knew she could not take the groundcar there...doing so would point right at the Federation and Starfleet. She had no way to call for extraction, and really no way to be extracted...her navel ring doubled as a transporter/video scrambler so she could not clearly be seen on the many security cameras dotting the streets, or transported against her will.

Knowing there was a lake near the Embassy, Kamela headed for it, determined to ditch the car in the water and destroy it. Hopefully, they would think she panicked and drowned...at least long enough for her to get off Orion. It would be a half kilometer swim in the dark before emerging two blocks from the Embassy. She told herself it was going to work...hell, it had to work. Aiming the vehicle at the water, Kamela set the controls and opened the door as the car sped into the water, with Kamela bailing out as the machine hit the lake. Kicking away from it furiously, the car sank, its power cell detonating itself one hundred yards behind and one hundred feet below her, the concussion nauseating her. She swam hard, her fear of capture powering her strokes towards relative safety.

Half a click and twenty minutes later, Kamela emerged from the water, barefoot, bedraggled and exhausted. Looking along the shore, she could clearly see the lights of the Embassy two blocks away...and its back door which would give her sanctuary. Guarded by two Marine sentries, they had been told to expect a "delivery" and given the requisite passwords. Picking her way carefully, concealing herself as much as possible, Kamela arrived at the back door of the Embassy. Modesty was not a concern for her at the moment, and it took a moment for the guards to stop staring at her now see through outfit and ask for the password. Once Kamela replied, the two guards quickly let her in, and she slipped down the back stairs to her quarters. Locking her door, placing her phaser on the table next to her bed and contacting her handler. Only then could she stop shaking.

Lieutenant Kamela Allison


Starfleet Intelligence

Edited by Hannibal Parker
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