Author: Leuke PM
Who knows what goes on in the mind of an assassin?Rated: Fiction K - English - Words: 544 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 03-20-06 - id: 2136592
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Thin fingers could be heard beating on the roof far above as a storm vented its fury on the upper levels of the huge parking garage where my limousine sat.
"We're starting to babysit." I growled into my phone, letting a raw trace of rage slip into my words.
"It's just for a few more days, until he can get the hang of this. Show a little more class and be patient," my associate responded, choosing to flavor his response with contempt.
"Questions, questions questions, till I thought I would lose my mind. I kept having to show him the same routines over and over again, like some kindergarten teacher. That was pretty much my day. Any luck throwing off that fed? The one that was looking for you?"
"Either next week or spring break we'll be finished. He's got some snot teen to take on vacation somewhere warmer."
I sighed. He never took investigations seriously, not that there was much to worry about. "Well…I can't hang around all day. I was going to ask, are your guys going to be over there? At the next job? Because I can't be understaffed this time. I need at least three men or I'll never get out clean.
"Yes, yes. Like I told you, I've gotten all five men. A full team just as requested, although you'd better be careful. I'm not going to bail you out if you screw up this time."
"What do you know about these guys?"
"What do you want to know?"
"Do you have any leverage? Anything you could use against them if they bail out? Like a verbal contract? An oath?"
Contempt filled his words again. "Have you lost your mind? This isn't a cult. Why didn't you say anything about a verbal contract earlier?"
I paused, wondering what had made me ask that question. "I…"
"I've got no time for this, Green. Later."
"Wait. Don't go."
"You've got ten seconds. Your impatience has grown contagious."
"Do you ever…"
"Ever what? You're starting to really tick me off. You don't want to do that. The weather's bad. It's not making me a contented individual. Whatever you were about to stutter into saying, I don't care. Get that senator, and don't call me again until he's down."
Click. The phone went silent. I dropped the thin black Razor and let it slide across the dark leather to clink against a seatbelt buckle.
Nothing wrong with a little rainfall, I thought to myself as I pulled a small silver handgun from underneath my seat. That fool doesn't know a thing about this business.
Finally a second limousine pulled into the garage. The senator was here at last. I removed the safety from my pistol and prepared for action. I refused to let the guilt that racked me at night and kept me awake for hours take hold. Instead I forced all thought from my mind and forged myself into an emotionless tool for killing.
The sound of the gun cocking filled the stifling air of the limo.
Rain is perfect weather for an assassin's work.