Not all the queen’s ruby diamond rings could afford such a deadly assassin as Janie Harrington. But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.
On a small farm in Uraguay in 1854, there was born a young lady. She was an unusually quiet baby. She never made a noise, even when she was half-starved. Her family wasn’t very rich, they couldn’t afford much. When Janie was old enough for solid foods, they could only afford to feed her what was leftover after feeding the livestock.
She slept on a bed of hay in the barn out back of the tiny shack her parents lived in. Loved, but malnourished, Janie learned to kill squirrels, quails, ducks, small puppies, and fish. She learned to sneak up from behind, above, and below her targets, and quickly and quietly fell them.
This is what made Janie the perfect assassin. Fifteen some-odd years later, Janie had been recruited – not by the Confederacy, but by the British Queen, under the reputation she’d earned as the greatest assassin in the land. She’d taken out [evidence deleted], cut [evidence deleted]’s throat, and left a certain important Kurd official to look as though he’d choked on one of his beloved danishes at breakfast.
Who was the target? Who would dare outrage the Queen to merit a contract? To this day, we have discovered the target, but not the motive.
“I was sent to eliminate Mr. Abraham Lincoln, your U.S. President,” the young woman exclaimed. “I was only supposed to go forward in time a few years to kill him. Now I am here, and I find out that he is already dead. I am sad now.”
When I told Janie that she’d overshot by 240+ years, she looked upset. I helped her find an apartment and got her a new driver’s license and social security card. I left the job-hunt up to her, but I figured with her skills, she wouldn’t have much of a problem with that.
I ran into Janie just after I caught her trying to kill my puppy. She was sizing up his hind legs for meat content, and I happened to trip over her when I was out for my morning paper. She stabbed me in the arm with a real-estate broker’s sign. Once the apologies and formalities were made, she told me her sad story. If you wish to speak with Janie, she goes by the name Juanita McDowell, and she works at Circuit City in Greenville, SC.