Smith was pissed. His coat was dirty. He had a scrape from the asphalt on the fleshy part of his palm, and it burned like crazy. He removed his torn glove, brushed at the little black bits of stone in the wound, and winced at the discomfort. Those bastards had almost gotten the best of him. Who did that fucker think he was, he thought as he rumbled along in the back of the cab. He was headed to the train station where, he would exit the cab, pay the fare, and head to the parking garage to grab a vehicle. But for now, he just fumed. He would have to closely check his gun, and the attached silencer to make sure there was no damage that would impede its ability to fire correctly and accurately. He had cringed when he had heard it clatter across the pavement. He desperately hoped its beautiful blued finish was not scraped and marred. He may have had a close call or two through the years, he thought, but never had he actually had to fight his way to freedom. He rolled back over the recent events in his mind.
He had received the email that contained the payment verification from his latest job, and as a little treat for a job well done, had taken a stroll a few blocks past the bus station and the parking garage, where as expected, he had soon been propositioned by a crackhead skank that posed as a lady of the night. He had been all smiles as she had led him down the alley, and behind the dumpster. It had been all he could do not to laugh, when she had lifted up her dirty and tattered skirt, and had been barely able to keep her balance as she had leaned back against the cement wall. Even with the gloves on his hands, he wouldn’t dare have touched her, much less have had sex with her. That was the last thing on his mind as he had looked at her, half naked, as she had begged him to get on with it.
“Time is money, Honey.” She had said. His smiled had broadened, as he did. Get on with it, that is. There had been that sudden sparkle of the glare of the street lights as it had flashed from his switch blade. He had swung it in a great arc, and had watched with amusement as the thin crimson line had appeared across her neck. He had broken into a laugh as the skin split and the blood had gushed forth. Her eyes had been slow to respond, as though she truly had not realized what had happened. But even as her life force had drained down the front of her blouse, and she had begun to try to scream, she had still held up her skirt. He remembered how the air had bubbled and frothed from the wound, as the light in her eyes had dimmed, and then she had slowly and quietly slid down the wall. He had stood there for a moment and embraced the rush of the moment, the knife held calmly at his side. Then his mood had turned dark. She was just a fucking whore, he had thought. Just like his sister. That bitch.
It burned his soul that all these years later that the fucking bitch whore still affected his life. He had killed her in cold blood so long ago, and yet it seemed that every time he turned around, she was still fucking with him.
He had been so elated when the payment confirmation had come through. To him, it was like an ‘atta-boy’. A pat on the back. Recognition for a job well done. All something that he had never received from his parents or teachers, but something he seemed to need, something that he thrived on. He embraced his life of solitude, and loved to live in the shadows, but he was always affected this way when a job went well, and the payment came. Even if the recognition was anonymous, at least it was something positive. That fucking bitch, sister Suzie, could do no wrong, he thought. He wished he could kill her again.
He had barely been out of the alley, when his phone had chimed. As he walked back towards the hotel and read the message, his elation had grown. It was a new assignment. A bit perplexed by how soon it had come, he was none the less excited. He loved his work, as it gave him mission and purpose in his otherwise void life. He read the coordinates from the message and grinned. He had not even needed to activate the GPS application. He had known exactly where the location was. The stall in the bus station. How convenient he had thought, as he had picked up his pace and walked the next block to the location. Minutes later he was back on the street, and had inserted the tiny black card into his phone. He had scrolled through the data as he walked, and had continued to ignore the few other people on the sidewalk. He had memorized the important parts, revisited a few of the images, committed the address to memory, and then ejected the card. He had deftly activated the switch on the corner of the card, and dropped it into a sewer drain as he passed. He never looked back to see if the smoke might be visible.
As he had continued to walk, he brought up the Google search application, and keyed in a zip code, and the phrase, popular restaurants. The results had listed several, but the one that caught his eye, was Pappa Louigi’s. He had liked the fact that Pappa was misspelled, and he was pretty sure Louigi was misspelled as well. It had intrigued him. He would need new transportation for the new assignment, and restaurants had always been an easy place for him to find what he needed. Usually there would be quite the variety of types and styles of cars, SUVs and crossovers to select from, and rarely would there be much of a crowd in the parking lot. It wasn’t as safe as say, a parking garage, but he could usually pick up the vehicle he needed much quicker. That was important for his next assignment. It had to be completed tonight. As he had reached the hotel, he had flagged a cab, and soon had been in the restaurant parking lot, where he had patiently waited for a suitable vehicle to appear. When the couple had arrived, they parked the dark SUV near the rear of the packed lot, and he had immediately been thrilled at his luck. In seconds he had shot the man in the head, and had been ready to subdue the woman, when that bastard had intervened.
It had all been an interruption to what had been a perfect evening, but as he road across town in the back of the cab, and watched the lights go by outside, his mood began to lighten. It would still be a perfect evening, he thought. He had a new plan of action in place, and soon he would be on the way to complete his assignment. In a matter of a few hours, he would barely remember the confrontation with those bastards. He would be filled with elation at the completion of another assignment. A job well done. He smiled.
Chapter 16
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