Cold Blood by Alexandra Littler (top non fiction books of all time TXT) 📖

Chapter one
A Close call
Hello, my name is Mindy Robinson. I’m twelve and a half years old and I’m an assassin.
My mum was killed two years ago for the money in her pocket.
I was in school at the time, worrying how to tell her Id lost my lunch box. Its ironic really, isn’t it.


My victim is Carl, I don’t know his last name but I don’t want to. In this business seeing the target as a person can make you hesitate, weaken you.
I’m getting paid two million for this and the money is going to buy me a flat, it’s a lovely pad overlooking the river. I’m tired of sleeping rough.


He’s just appeared. I’d know his face anywhere. The goofy grin and the mangled eye.
He’s not a person he’s a monster. The report said he murdered three people because they wouldn’t hand over their cash, sound familiar. It does to me.
I never actually found out who killed my mum. It could have been him.


I silently open my bag, take out my gun and screw on the silencer.
One bullet to the brain, even that’s too good for him, a clean death. If I had my way he would be tortured slowly but it’s in the job description, a clean death. Minimum clean-up for the state, that’s the only reason.


I apply two pounds to a three pound trigger. Two more steps and I’ll have him.
One…Two…A single shot. He falls. Two million for me. A morgue for him.
And all for one easy shot.


I look down at my diary; oh joy two more assignments today. That means two more stake outs. It could be worse. Last week I had to sit in a swamp for three hours waiting for a farmer who hadn’t paid his bills. Yeah, could be worse.


I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk down the road to my bike.
Its strange isn’t it that someone with no home should have a bike and a large collection of guns. Not to mention nice clothes.
A couple of times now the police have asked me where I stole my stuff from. And you know what I said. I said I didn’t know and I didn’t care.


3 DAYS LATER


I’m sitting in my new flat watching the boats on the river whilst polishing my favourite gun. It’s a year old but it’s much better than any of the local guns. My gun is sleek, shiny and has an impressively smooth mechanism.
I haven’t got a license for it but that’s hardly surprising. The police don’t like assassins. They want to lock us all up.


Three days and I’ve already got my flat, it’s amazing how fast you can get things done if you’ve got the money. Three days ago I made over eight million pounds. So I think I’ve got the money.

My next assignment is tomorrow and to be honest I’m dreading it.
The target is an eighteen year old that couldn’t keep his gob shut and now he’s got to pay.


THE NEXT DAY

My next assignment is eighteen year old Paul. He accidentally found out the Head Quarters of a criminal organization. Instead of doing the smart thing and keeping quiet, he decided to blab. So now…doomsday my lad! A little warning no more football for him and a holiday in hospital. It’s unfortunate he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.


So I’m sitting outside the college. The downside is that the wretched place doesn’t have any decent cover so moi is sitting in a wheelie bin next to a rubbish heap. Although to be perfectly honest it could be much worse, after all I’m getting paid three thousand pounds for this. It’s going to be hard to get away but I’m sure I can manage it.


No scrap that, this is going to be a piece of cake. He’s the college chess champion, how many people go to that club! I’ve changed my mind again he’s come out with three other boys.


This could get tricky. I screw my silencer onto my gun and take aim. I recon I can get off a decent shot and run before anyone catches’ me.

I climb out of the wheelie bin, squeeze the trigger and run.
Behind me I hear him screaming and a loud thud. Mission accomplished.

Time to go home. In a few minutes I’m back in my flat, safe, for now.
The police sirens go past to investigate the crime scene. They do that every time but they never catch me. And if I’m very lucky they won’t ever find out who the perpetrator is.


I hear the screech of tires outside. That will be Marcus. I go out and there he is leaning on his Land Rover just waiting for me.
We drive to the cinema and go in to watch a twelve film. Friday is movie night.
When the film ends we head over to MacDonald’s for our tea.


As we’re coming out of MacDonald’s a police car arrives, and two police get out. They’re looking at me. I run. What else can I do, I mean they’re staring at me. I don’t know where I’m running to I’m just running.

It’s me against them.
Who can run the fastest?
Who knows the city best?


Personally I think…them.


I mean their job is walking or driving round arresting people. They know these mean streets. I’ve lived my whole life in this city. But unless they’ve sent someone from Australia, I’m stuffed.
I’m a couple of blocks away from home now.


Almost there, Almost there.


A hand on my shoulder!


A voice reading me my rights.


ONE HOUR LATER

They took everything I had on me but I still refuse to tell them where I live, the guns would be enough evidence to blow me out of the water. At least with a good lawyer I might still be able to get out of this.

But there’s a deeper reason than that. My flat is my first real home in years. I don’t want them going through my stuff, sitting on my couch and touching my things.


They won’t leave me alone there are three, yes, three police officers sitting in this room with me. It’s stupid, I mean isn’t one enough, and now they’re saying we have to wait for an appropriate adult, an appropriate adult for an inappropriate child, oh hell that means another social worker for me. I’m not that thick that I’d attack a police officer even if they weren’t carrying a rather noticeable gun. I mean I wouldn’t want to bleed all over their lovely carpet.


We’re walking along a narrow corridor with lots of doors on either side. We stop at door 332. They tell me to go in. So I do, it’s always good to do what your told, sometimes.


The cell is three metres squared. It has a small bed with a thin mattress. There is a toilet behind a screen, a sink and a barred window.


I sit on my bed and ponder a single question. Why me?


Why did my mum die?


Why did I become an assassin?


Why, why, why. Questions, questions, questions.


My heads going to explode I just want, no, need to know why? The answers probably not as simple as the question mind. Yeah.


Oh the doors opening. It’s the officer that kept giving me the evils in the car. They take me to the questioning room. I decline to all their questions except one. Are you innocent? Of course I said yes to that one, I’m not a complete crackpot. They take me back to my cell and lock me in.


I have another look round. The window looks big enough for me to fit through but it’s a shame about the bars.
I slip of my right shoe and pull back the sole. Inside is a tiny junior hacksaw. I go to the bars and start sawing. Luckily my hacksaw blade is diamond tipped, not cheap I can tell you. The bar is starting to give but its going to take me a while to get out.


ONE WEEK LATER

The last bar has just give way. I quietly ease the window open and wriggle out.
I’m free and its time to get away. No, wait that’s what they’d expect me to do.
I spot a black wheelie bin. Oh joy! Not again.

They’ve been running back and forth for two hours now but they can’t find me. I don’t know how long it will be until they give up but I hope it’s soon. This bin smells like fish. Their not stupid though they’ve looked in my bin more than once but I’ve pulled rubbish over my head. It’s a good job this bin has a crack in it or I would have suffocated by now.


THE NEXT DAY


I think it’s safe to go home. I mean I hope it is because if the catch me again they’ll move me out of the sun. I run for it.
I get to the high street before I see them.
Their standing there looking for me. I slip into the nearest telephone booth and call the people who employ me.
They tell me there is a safe house just two doors down from where I am, which was lucky if you ask me.
I go to the door and knock the door opens and I step inside.


HALF AN HOUR LATER


The person that steps out is completely different.
Where my hair was brown and to my shoulders it is now black and to my waist. My eyes have gone from brown to blue.
And my skin has gone from a rich tan to pale verging on white.
I am now wearing a long skirt and a black military jacket.
I start the long walk back to my house.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see a cop. I panic but then he asks me if I’ve seen a girl my age with brown hair and eyes and wearing a tracksuit. I act innocent and tell him no but I’ll ring if I do he gives me his number but as soon as I get around the corner I throw it away. He had me but then he let me go. Finally I can get home, bed for me with a hot chocolate and my favourite book.


Chapter Two
A Friend for Mindy
THE NEXT DAY

It feels so good to wake up in my own bed, in my own flat.


HALF AN HOUR LATER


I’m eating my breakfast browsing the web looking at dogs.
I call my friend Marco and ask him to go and buy me an Akita today from a family in Liverpool.