It was the express from New York to Baltimore

It was the express from New York to Baltimore. As the tunnel began to draw to a close, the sound of the clacking tracks echoing in my ears, lights speeding by faster and faster, I had an epiphany. You pay attention to the lights coming, not to those who have already passed. It is the same exact way with my work. Every event that has transpired was less meaningful than the last but demanded a greater sense of attention. If you look at the stream of jobs, you will find that the tell-all of my career.

You didn’t have to kill them all.

That’s always the answer. Even if they ask for it, that’s always what they reply after I tell them the details of the job. I jolted out of my thoughts as the train applied its breaks. And so, after a few hours on a train, I travel for another thirty minutes by car, which was already waiting for me when I arrived at Baltimore’s Penn Station.

The black leather interior of the Cadillac would have been appealing to most, but all it did to me was make my skin stick to the seat cushion. The driver didn’t say anything; not that the driver would have much to say to me anyway. Roland Park was always the ritzy part of Baltimore, nice place with generally nice people. However, though my client happened to live in Roland, we were heading north, to Elkridge Club Golf Course. When we pulled in, a guy up front opened the door and ushered me into the clubhouse. He was waiting for me in the dining area. Two dozen small circular tables adorned with white table clothes to match the white walls and ceiling. He sat next to a triplet set of windows looking out on the dark fields.

“Mr. Black, sir.” The butler said, taking his leave as he did so.

Mr. Black, I hate that. there was nothing more annoying than the name I used in my deals, it was so unoriginal. He, however, was named Haus, Cain Haus. The name fit the man. He was a dealer in arms, so I already could tell that he was a shady type when he met me two months ago to give me the job. Of all the blood money I am paid with, his is the most soiled.

“Mr. Black.”

“Mr. Haus.”

“Please sit.” I did. “So, tell me the details.”

“Gone.”

There was a heated silence. Apparently, he was expecting all the grisly details. I hate those types of clients. I sighed.

“That it?” he asked with a firm look of disappointment etched on his heavily lined face.

“I did the job; quick and easy. One shot to the back of the head a piece.”

“All of them?”

I nodded.

“You didn’t have to kill them all.”

I fucking knew it. I was just waiting for it. But I made no sign of annoyance. I just sat there at a table with a man who had hired me to kill a twelve year old girl, in which I did, sad to say.

“I guess that is an adequate job. No witnesses either. Now the little bitch can’t rat on me.”

“She was your niece.”

“That’s no concern of yours Mr. Black. What was the price again?”

“For the hit, two hundred thousand. For the fact it was a minor, another two hundred thousand.”

“I guess that’s reasonable.”

“And for the mother, your sister, and her husband, I charge another two hundred thousand a head. That’s eight hundred thousand dollars.”

“That’s pushing it a little Mr. Black.”

I could sense that he was getting a little annoyed by My harsh rates of doing business. I didn’t care, he was scum. My usual policy is that I don’t touch children or women. This was the lowest of the low in my book. So I was going to charge him twice my normal fee, the fuck.

I leaned in and said calmly, “It’s simple Mr. Haus, you either pay me, or I add you to the list and take all of your money in the process.”

Now he was on the same page. These people have no heart when it came to human life. But when their own life and fortune is threatened, knowing I have leverage over them, they crumbling like a falling house of cards. He made a call, wiring the funds to my off shore Cayman Islands account. I bed him goodnight and left when a taxi arrived. He didn’t want me polluting his Cadillac I suppose.

My house was on East Baltimore Street. Everyone might know this place more by its nickname, the Block. My one room apartment was above the Circus Show Bar. The owner, Lyndi Shell, had asked my services a long time ago to get rid of the Eight Trey Gangstas of the Crips plaguing her club. They had been extorting her every week for money. I simply went into their place and killed them all, free of charge. There were two conditions to my generosity though. One, she was to supply me a place of residence, free of charge, and I got a small percentage in the bar. That was in my early days. Now I help the bar stay open if Lyndi is behind on her payments, and also provide a service to any and all of the people she gives my traceless number to. She has no reason to fear me, she knows that she’s the only person that I actually trust. Besides, we’ve slept together and I make a mean chili. I’m not going anywhere, even if the Block is. The area had been getting smaller and smaller over the years. But enough of that nonsense.

I pulled up, threw the cabbie a hundred and told him to keep the change. I pulled my suitcase out of the trunk and then walked into the Circus. It had a moderate amount of noise and it was extremely dirty. You wouldn’t even believe the condition of the bathroom. I always had to help Lyndi bribe the health inspector every year; and he was starting to ask for more and more each passing year. But Lyndi was okay. I had bough the neighboring Club Harem in her name, and it was a lot more satisfactory and paid a lot more.

She greeted me with a large writhing kiss. She looked like she always did. This twenty-year-old woman puts you in mind of a savvy alley cat. She had large red eyes. Her silky, wavy, medium-length hair was the color of ripe tangerines. She was as tall as my shoulder with a wide-hipped build. Her skin was deeply tanned; despite the fact she only seemed to be awake at night and never seemed to go outside of her clubs. Her wardrobe was a tight halter-top that was, perhaps, a little too revealing, with a flowing skirt that was a mix of a lot of black and green. The skirt had a long wide slit on each side, from the waist to the end. She wasn’t wearing any underwear today.

What a surprise.

“What’s up Malek?”

Only Lyndi knew my real name, which is Malek Lucculus.

“I’m tired Lyn, I’m going upstairs.”

“I hope you’re not too tired.” she replied with a wink as she skirted away amongst her greasy and perverted costumers.

I knew what she meant and, to tell you the truth, I rather needed it. I went upstairs and washed up in my sink, I didn’t have a working shower. In about a half an hour, after it got passed the 2 am closing time, she came up and then…

Let the games begin!

She threw me onto my mattress, placing her thighs around my waist she rocked back and forth whilst kissing me. She pulled off her halter-top, letting her unrestrained C-cup breasts fall freely. She pushed my shirt up and over my head and took my hands. She guided them to her breast were I began massaging her nipples. The rest is privet so don’t try to delve any further. All I will tell you is that we didn’t disconnect until an hour later.

“I’ve been wondering,” she said, walking around picking up her clothes. “do you enjoy your job?”

I sat on the mattress, completely nude, watching this firm and just as naked girl poke around my apartment.

“Well?” she asked again, looking up from her task. Her face was flushed and her hair was all askew.

“No I don’t.” I replied, getting up and finding my clothes too. “it makes me feel sick all of the time.”

“More now than before?”

“Yes, I had to kill a girl who was barely in her teens.”

Lyndi stopped and looked over in horror. She knew I killed people for a living, and usually it didn’t seem to bother her too much. But this had struck a cord.

“Who ordered that?” she asked with a look of pure revulsion on her face.

As I hitched up my jeans, I said with disgust, “A mister Cain Haus, arms dealer that has been under surveillance for a few weeks. It was his niece and she was committed to testifying against him. She had to go, along with her mother, his own sister, and his sister’s husband.”

Lyndi slumped to the floor, “Can you sleep after that?”

“I can’t even eat Lyn. It’s worse than sickening, I feel as if I’m dying too.”

She dropped her clothes and walked over to me, leaning against the wall. She pressed her naked body to mine in an embrace of pure love and whispered, “Can’t you just stop?”

“I want to Lyn,” I replied, looking down at her, pushing a few strands of hair off her forehead. “I want to more than you know. But I can’t.”