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Holding your stomach, you mutter something about cinnamon buns and stumble into the next stall. Sitting down, you slide your foot into Charles Mitchell's stall, and tap it against the ground three times. You can tell Charles is excited by how quickly he reaches for the toilet paper. Exiting the stall, you hear a gruff voice ask, "Ready to go, Mr. Mitchell?"
"One second, I have some ... business to take care of. Why don't you wait outside?"
Footsteps sound on the tiled floor, then recede. Your stall door opens, and Charles Mitchell jumps in your lap. You slam his head against the coat hook, then hold his head in the toilet until the water is dark red and his spastic body twitching subsides. Some people die like wusses.
Leaving the bathroom, you are met with the piercing gaze of the bodyguard. "He'll be out in a minute," you tell him. "I exhausted the poor guy."
The bodyguard goes past you into the restroom. You hurry away and duck into a restaurant. You call Aaron; he picks up on the first ring.
"Did you get him?"
"Whatever, who is my next target?"
"Chelsea Bowman. She's five-foot three, red hair, blue-"
"You think I can't recognize a famous actress, but you expect me to identify Charles Mitchell by name?" you interrupt.
"Her flight leaves in one hour," Aaron continues, unfazed. "Make sure she's not on it."
"Wait, should I just make her late for her flight or-"
"Kill her, dammit!" A click indicates Aaron has punctuated his order by hanging up.
Finding the popular young actress doesn't take too long, as a crowd of security and paparazzi sweep the starlet through to her terminal. As she wobbles along, you suspect that her high heels aren't the only thing making her unsteady. Getting close to her won't be easy, though.