She sat back in her chair, her eyes taking in every single detail of the last death of the "And then there were None" plan. True, there had been moments when she had worried the subjects of the experiment would find some way to cock the whole thing up, but it had all worked out. The plan had worked like a charm, though she had needed to tweak the original a little bit to make the plan work in a more modern world, taking into account how far communications had come in the last few decades or so.

But it had worked out eventually - all ten of the people who had travelled to the mansion in the middle of nowhere under the guise of being invited by someone whom they didn't know personally but someone of their mutual acquaintance did for some mundane reason - a party, a business proposal or something boring like that - were now dead, the murders watched by her with a critical eye but also with satisfaction.

When she had first read Agatha Christie's "And then there were None," she was hooked - not on the characters themselves, though they had their points since they were murderers. What few people realised was everyone could be a potential murderer - you didn't need to be a genius, or take a special course on how to become a murderer, you just needed the means, the motive and the opportunity.

That was it. You also needed pot luck and avoid getting over confident and cocky, that could lead to a mistake that could get you put in prison. Truthfully, she didn't really care since she always planned and plotted the murders she committed with a cold, cynical mind. In a way she could be likened to Vera Claythorne of the novel written by Christie, the secretary/governess who let a boy drown in order to marry the boys uncle so then she would be more well off. It was unfortunate her plans had failed because the man she had loved, Hugo (why Christie used such names in her novels was beyond her) had actually loved the boy a lot more than she had anticipated, and had realised what had happened quickly.

But she was not like Claythorne - she had no understanding of love. Love was a concept. A harmless chemical response in the brain, a weakness, though inwardly she knew she yearned for familial love because she wanted to know who she really was, though it was impossible. It was as unrealistic as you could imagine it to be. Claythorne's method of killing had been better than the others had been - Blore had been a clumsy oaf in the novel itself, Lombard had been too obvious with his gun happy finger, and Mr and Mrs Rogers had been the first blamed for the murder of their employer - and yet Judge Wargraves had picked up on it because Hugo and he had met on a liner. When she planned and committed a murder, or assassination, she made certain she didn't have ANY ties with the victim. If she did then she would be questioned by the police, maybe even suspected herself.

Such a thing was unspeakable in her world. And then there were none might have been a work of fiction, but that did not mean she didn't believe the basic idea behind the use of the island as a place to commit murders was not sound. It was actually a great idea; find an isolated area with a single mansion, remote, no phone line, no one living nearby to ask for help, no internet connection, no signal reception for mobile phones, block off any chance of escape, and then begin playing a psychological game with your victims by killing them one at a time with different methods. Only she had taken it a bit further - one of her lines of business was assassination, and she had lists and lists of people hiring her and her organisation to do jobs for a price, and so she had a plethora of people to kill. Who would be the killer? Nothing could be more simple - one of the so called victims, though if you could call people who had wronged you victims then you needed your head examined - would be the one.

He or she would be there to pretend to be one of the guests, and then systematically kill the others, revealing who it was to the victims at the last minute before it was too late to do anything about it. The only problem would be how would that killer escape; a predetermined route of escape, a boat in a cave could be located and used, so could a helicopter or a small plane. Then Agatha Christie had solved it for her - send in a killer who had an illness - cancer, leukemia, something life threatening, and sweeten the pot by promising to give their family (if they had one) a cut in the profits for the murders committed along with the permission to kill themselves, though that would only work if they had nothing left to hope for. She could see ways medicine could catch up and finally deal a blow to such illnesses, it was just a pity no-one bothered using their intellects. For her, the brain was a computer that stored information, and yet people shoved pointless trivia and mindless grudges into their heads, clouding their judgement.

What did it matter if someone had a bigger country that you did, or a better economy? Look at the magical world and their ridiculous obsession with blood purity, especially in Britain with those stupid minor Dark Lords, with their irrational beliefs. All that knowledge, experience gathered over millennia, wasted because of some pathetic ideal about blood. Blood was blood. Their concerns were petty and ridiculous since they could be making themselves better. Still, the idea of having all your targets that had been gathering dust for months in one place to kill...

It was a novel idea using the plot from a book to commit multiple murders for other people who would pay a lot for the deaths of those who had crossed them, and the best thing was there were hidden cameras everywhere to provide the ones bidding for the deaths to see the ones they wanted buried six feet under recorded so they could see it as many times as they wanted. It was a risky thing to do of course - the victims were thoroughly investigated, and they'd quickly realise or suspect others of arranging their deaths, though really each murdered individual would have one single sponsor, and if the police searched their homes and found a DVD showing a recording of the death in one of the sponsors hands, the whole game would be undone. It was, unfortunately, a risk she had to take - she had dozens of assassinations lined up each day of the week, and she had so little time to actually have them acted upon since she had so many projects. It was an irritant, really - she had so many operations and long term projects she couldn't afford to put off, being a Consulting Criminal was sometimes a problem for her. But some of her work was so pathetically easy a three year old could work it all out.

Sitting back in her chair, she rewatched the footage from the cameras, and wondered if she should increase the price for the next round of assassinations in the future if she tried this again. This was so straight forward - sniper rifles waiting for a shot in a public place was so...basic, primitive, crude and unremarkable compared to this little scheme. It dragged the assassination through, and while she like everyone who set up assassinations preferred it to be quick, there was something psychologically thrilling to see people's baser instincts come out. Idly she made a note on her mobile to increase the price from $400 to $600, her decision made at last. She was tempted to use this method in assassinations to save her the time and to ensure the police were thrown off because the killer had chosen so many different people from different diversities, but truthfully she wasn't sure it was a wise move; there was the possibility someone - a detective, a relative, someone who watched too much TV and frequented the internet news sites for interesting ideas for a conspiracy which simply did not exist - could see what was happening, and work out a pattern to which the deaths were being arranged. As the mastermind of so many crimes and who had her fingers into every possible crime, she had to be careful in case someone found out too much about her.

In the mean time she thought long and hard about using the And then there were None scenario to deal with some of her assassination ideas, and felt it needed a bit more work before it could be properly used. Hmm, she thought idly, maybe don't make it so obvious - maybe have one of her acquaintances, or find someone who had an illness deal with them all, and pay the family to see them through for each murder. Yes, that sounded far more plausible and less noticeable than simply stranding them in the middle of nowhere, and killing them off and leaving behind a mystery.

True, it would make life easier just inviting them somewhere and simply killing them in one place. The only problem with changing an assassination into something that appeared random was a risk the one carrying out the mission made the mistake of leaving something behind. Actually, there were dozens of problems with the new idea but she would work through them. She closed her eyes and sighed. The woman was tired. She had been planning for this for a long time, hoping to relieve the workload and get rid of the boring people even if the prices she was getting was right, but actually arranging it and coming to the grand finale was proving how Agatha Christie's idea was good for only the occasional turn of the year. It was irritating and she had so many more assassinations to get through. So much to do, so little time. She sighed again, and focused hard on the plans she had in mind, pushing the assassination branch of her business out of her brain and focused on her takeover of the Magical world's criminal element instead, pushing her plans for marketing her services and having bank jobs committed away. The takeover of the criminal element of the Magical World was more straightforward than she'd suspected; all she'd needed was to get hold of a few contacts, keeping the likes of Mundungus Fletcher out of the loop in case Dumbledore caught wind of her plans and existence in the process, and making deals and arrangements.

She wasn't really bothered by any one actually bothering her, the businesses she was setting up were straight forward as they were gambling establishments. She smirked - casinos and bars were a step below brothels and strip clubs, which she planned to have along with hotels and restaurants that catered for the rich and powerful. Imagine - so many of the rich and the powerful going unsuspecting into a restaurant she owned, or a club where truth potions would reveal their darkest secrets before their memories were modified to show the new reality. For the brothels and strip clubs and massage parlors, well the muggle born women who'd been left with nothing because of the purebloods could help there. She had sympathy for them, but since they'd allowed the Wizarding world to take over their lives to the point their mundane education was neglected her sympathy was limited. Many of them had been abandoned by their families - it was the same old story; they were freaks, they had a power their parents and siblings simply did not have, and they were afraid for their lives. They would not help. For the families who loved their children and simply felt left behind by their children. For some it was not a problem - they just had to spend their time wisely catching up with their studies and leaving their own magic behind after being abandoned in return by the magical world. It was always a bitter feeling to be abandoned - she herself had been educated in both worlds, but she had never neglected her non magical education.

To her it was everything since magic could not solve every problem, but she had seen many muggle borns struggle to cope after graduating. Finding the muggle borns was not a problem, and when she'd offered them work without bothering or caring about what kind of skills they had, they jumped for it every single time. They were that desperate for work, and best of all those she asked to work in the clubs would do so willingly in order to gather information that would hurt the purebloods, and they did it. Many of them didn't give a toss about Dumbledore, since he and his bitch harpy of a deputy headmistress and all the rest had lied to them. Ah, human nature was easy enough to toy with. And best of all, they were getting back at the ones who had hurt them the most. Still, Magical Britain was not like its counterparts in France, Germany or America, and they had been fairly straightforward for her to plant the seed that would spread the roots of her organisation.

She had used so many people in her plans, but never in the same manner as Dumbledore - sometimes much worse - and she had used those opportunities to make new plans with the information and the secrets gleaned from the loose mouths of so many people who weren't any the wiser. The magical world would be far better in that regard; they were so stupid and complacent anyhow it would not matter one iota if they lost a bit of information. Besides with every single piece of information she received, another chunk of the Wizarding world came under her control. She'd made business arrangements with the muggleborns who had managed to work together and tried to make something of themselves despite being let down so many times. She had no intention of causing them harm, she was simply investing in different businesses and helping them as best she could.

She turned her mind back to the assassination business. It wasn't what she'd wanted to dwell on, but her mind couldn't let it go. Assassination was a major part of her business. She rechecked her list of people, and realised the And then there were None scenario would need to be rethought for the future, perhaps a cruise line, or a holiday destination? No. There was no guarantee they would go; too many people threw such invites away, believing them to be scams, and she didn't have the time to play games when she had too much to do. Absorbed in so many possibilities that would lead to more profitable markets - she was even thinking of having a priceless piece of art nicked so she could have forgeries be bought, it would take time to get it organised, though - her mobile rang.

She picked it up at once. "Hello?"

"Is it safe to talk?" She sighed irritably, this lieutenant was so paranoid it was not funny, he seemed to take her own paranoia and double it for effect. "Yes, it is. Get on with it, what do you want?"

"Our consultation with that gang in New York has gone wrong, they refuse to take anything we take onboard." She closed her eyes patiently. "They've been trouble before."

"Not like this," the voice at the other end replied, "they've decided to hit the bank tonight without bothering to take our insight in mind."

"In that case let them suffer the consequences, but make sure the coppers we've got on our books keep us informed. If they talk I want them to pay the price."

"Understood," the other voice said emotionlessly, having been given this order countless times before, then hung up. "Goodbye to you, too," she muttered though she didn't care. With nothing really worthwhile to do at the moment, she spent her free time watching the CCTV footage of each of the murders of her recent experiment with a professional and critical eye. It had certainly worked beyond her expectations, it was just a miracle none of the so called victims hadn't really found out the real purpose. It was compulsive watching - they had been in the killers midst for a good 3 days, being killed one at a time as dictated by her orders; that ridiculous poem aside, it made more sense to be scary and psychological by killing them one at a time.

That way you achieved maximum results which in this case meant all of them would be dead by the time 5 days had passed, which was when the police would arrive, and by then it would be devoid of any and all cameras. The cameras had been carefully installed and removed, and they dotted the entire site and were virtually undetectable. The only way anyone could find them was if they were actively searching for them. As soon as she was sure it was clear, she herself had gone and gathered them up, and left no physical evidence. She had gone personally because she had wanted to make certain the experiment had gone the way it had appeared, and because she had wanted to see the results for real.

Clad in the same kind of paper suit police in Britain donned to prevent any of their hair or skin, or any trace of themselves, from falling onto the crime scene - she always kept one handy for situations like that, and when she'd gone to see how the experiment had gone, she had taken one with her - she had ignored the heat of being clad in the suit for so long to clear the place of the cameras and to gather the footage. All 3 days of it. She had gone alone because she didn't trust anybody else, and because she herself had gone under an alias with a couple of camera technicians, both legit and both ignorant of what the cameras would be used for, and she had recorded the places the cameras were hidden by the two technicians with her photographic memory.

Liberating them and gathering the information hadn't been difficult. Seeing the bodies strewn all over the place, some of them looking even peaceful in death since a few of them hadn't even seen who had killed them, hadn't moved her. She had personally killed dozens of people in her time, she had had blood dribbling down her face from a time where she had garroted someone with barbed wire, and she had witnessed a man choke to death and foam at the mouth after she'd slipped him some cyanide - seeing 10 people whom she didn't know dead didn't affect her.

As she had removed the cameras, she had reflected a bit of remorse of having the technicians themselves murdered, but it had been necessary for her own safety. They had seen her, albeit under disguise, but it was enough for them to tell the police if they'd blabbed about the work they'd done with the cameras.

They had had to go, and an hour after they'd left they'd both been killed in an accident. She herself had carried it out to prevent any mistakes from occurring. They had done the job magnificently, though, and the cameras had really recorded each event that occurred during the time the victims had arrived, realised they had been duped and manipulated, and then panic stricken and trying to play detective to find out who was killing them. A fools errand - some of the victims accused didn't have anything to gain, and by the time they'd rooted the truth in their heads another body would turn up, and their suspect would be proven innocent. For the experiment she had deliberately ordered someone who was dying of cancer that could not be removed and had nothing more to gain by trying to fight it to be the one to kill everyone. He had done it willingly when he'd heard her promise she would make sure his family were taken care of - his wife was to be killed slowly, and his daughters were to be doped up on drugs and sold as prostitutes. Even she as occasionally sociopathic as she was blinked in surprise at how cold blooded he was, but she'd agreed.

His wife and daughters were bitches. Still, she had to admit he had done the job brilliantly, all 10 people were dead, more money would soon be added to her funds when the DVD recordings of the people they wanted dead would be sent out, and another would wind up in her private collection to be watched whenever she was bored, or if she wanted to show someone just how far her imagination and planning could actually take her. She certainly planned to use the "And then there were None" scenario against targets in the Wizarding world - it was unlikely they'd realise the plan was linked to a piece of crime fiction written by a woman, and it was even more unlikely they'd realise it because the author was a muggle! Really, they were so predictable to ignore something like that simply because of its origins.

Still, she wasn't sure if Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE of the British Ministry, was as insular as her coworkers. She shrugged her shoulders, it was of no consequence. Even if she had read the novel, Bones would think it too coincidental and besides she planned on making sure the number of people were inconsistent with the novel.

She grinned as she recorded each and every event, every word, every death onto a disc of her own when she'd finished recording the lead ups to the deaths for their victims before they actually died. It took her hours to record the deaths and when she'd finished each one, she sealed them in jiffy bags making sure to wear a pair of later gloves and including a simple note that warned the clients that although she was pleased by the fact the job had been done, she still wanted payment for her services, finished by a simple warning that if she could go to all this trouble then she could kill them as them. It wasn't stated in as many words, of course, but she had warned them. She didn't care if they felt threatened or not, it wasn't as though they could actually do anything about her. They had dealt with her through proxies. After she had posted the packages, she mentally went through all of the things she needed to do. The Wizarding world was going to think Voldemort was a choir boy when she was finished with them. Her name was Moriarty, and she would act.

What do you think?