Assassin

A short story of a contract killer reminiscing on his first job.

Assassin

 

            The moon was almost eclipsed leaving little light to reflect off the blades of grass, sharp, splintering like thousands of knives that stuck out of the ground, overshadowed by dark clouds that painted the sky overhead. The trees spread over the scene like dark guards bordering a picture that would look almost beautiful if it were not for the heavens that had opened to unleash floods of ice cold droplets that covered the entire picture.

            It always seems to rain on nights like this one. Perhaps its nature’s way of telling me it knows what I’m doing. The thought was to keep him from thinking of his legs that were going numb in the mud; the soft ground had consumed most of his lower body. Lying on a mound under the cover of trees which, done little more than collect the pouring rain into a small river that travelled down his back. This was never ones idea of fun, but this was all part of the job. Every now and again a car passed along the road behind him. He was about half a mile from the road but it still took his attention for a moment as the engine roared up the hill then down the other side. He brought up the sleeve of his left arm pressing the light of his digital watch. 00:10. Why is it no ones ever early?

            As tedious as it might be he never minded the wait, the otherwise quiet sounds of the woods would seem enhanced as he listen. The rustle of leaves, the wind whistling, an owl hooting every now and then the solitary hunter stalking a prey of its own. All secondary to the unmistakable clatter of the rain, beating its rhythm on the land. Collaboratively the sounds could be unsettling but he was relaxed his as he always was when working. Years of relentless practice and determination shrugged off any apprehension he might have had, even deep down doing this kind of work. He lifted the rifle and settled it into his shoulder before lining up the sights on the large oak door of the mansion below.

            The mansion was a large white building half covered in ivy, there were large trees either side of the wall and the garden was awash in plants and flowers. The wind was blowing heavily through the trees showing no sign of calming down, making the building look more like a haunted house than a luxury home.

            Another car was coming down the road, unlike the others though it slowed and turned into the long driveway splashing through puddles as it came up the narrow winding road. An Aston Martin pulled up outside the house. He noticed the windows were blacked out matching the sleek black paint work, it meant he wouldn't be able to get a clear shot until the occupant vacated the vehicle. He gave a role of his shoulder as he aimed his sights on the car. Don’t want to scratch it... He allowed himself a grin then focused on the target.

            He took all kinds of jobs and no two were the same, jobs had varying degrees of difficulty and set up. As it was this particular job was east, one target in a fairly secluded location and no protection that would need to be circumvented or eliminated. As he often did he thought back to the first job he'd ever done, it had been a disaster and in any other industry the boss would have slung him out the door. As it was this line of work wasn’t the kind of career that warranted the mundane criteria of a job objective. Sometimes he wondered what it might be like to work nine to five and have a dental plan, but being freelance had other benefits. Of course not just anyone could decide on a whim that they’d be a contract killer. The military life hadn’t seemed to give him what he was looking for, he wasn't so good with orders and he felt his particular skills were going to waste. He also seemed to have one other quality that was needed for this kind of work, a lack of compassion.

            His first target had been a white male in his early forties he had been staying in a hotel on business and would be in his room all night. The file on the target had been limited but a ten grand bounty soon helped diminish any doubts. He had fitted the silencer to his pistol ahead of entering the hotel and had it in hand hidden under his jacket when he arrived outside the door.

He tapped the hotel room door lightly and with a pleasant voice said ‘Room service.’ A moment of silence, he remembered noticing the sweat on the back of his neck that had arisen in his anticipation of what would become his first close range kill. He gripped the handle of his gun more tightly afraid his hand might start shaking but the moment passed and there was movement inside the room. When the door finally opened he found that his assumption of what he would see had now thrown him completely.

Expecting to see the enquiring face of a man in his early forties he had already pulled his weapon from under his jacket when he realized it had not been a man but a woman. She was a brunette must have been in her early twenties with shoulder length hair and brown eyes. She was hearing a pink mini skirt and strappy black top, as the target was meant to be alone he could only assume that this was a hooker. Her face had been lit by a smile at first but now that had been replaced by a look of horror as her mouth widened to scream. No time to think he put his free hand over her mouth and turned her into his body manoeuvring into the room and kicking the door closed. His grip on her mouth was ironclad and he held her tight to his body which had the dual effect of keeping the girl subdued and now using her as a shield as his brain took in the altered scenario and quickly adjusted.

He remembered hearing his heart thudding in his chest the pace quickening, then felt the girls own heart fluttering a rhythm of its own, two hearts beating out of sync but almost as one. The room he had stepped into was a typical hotel room with a double bed in the centre and a TV at the foot of the bed. There was a dining table at the far end by the window and a closed door that led to the bathroom. He held his gun to the girl's head and gave a ‘shh’ with the lightest breath he could manage. He hadn’t anticipated the girl’s intervention nor planned for the events about to occur. The door to the bathroom swung open and an arm holding a pistol similar to his own swung round and took two blind shots. The pistol the other man was using didn't have a silencer attachment and the blasts from the gun rang in his ears. The first had struck the wall to his right only a few inches from his head but the second had gone straight through his left leg.

There was pain, first it was a sting like that of a wasp and then it throbbed. Instincts and training took over, he went straight to the floor; falling beside the bed on the opposite side of the door he placed his head flat on the ground to see the now open bathroom door from under the bed. The girl was screaming at the top of her lungs stepping back away from him but among the pain and her screams he still heard ‘Didn’t expect that did ya’ the voice came from the bathroom followed by an almost psychotic laugh. The target came fully into the bedroom stretching his neck to see past the bed.

He remembered thinking he was done for, on his first job the idea flooded him  with anger. The wound in his leg only added distraction to a panic he could feel growing inside of him. Looking at the blood on his hand as he pulled it from his leg he bit harder on already clenched teeth. Regaining some of his composure he focused on the bare feet on the other side of the bed. Clasping his pistol tighter again to the point of making his knuckles white he thrust his arm out under the bed where his target wouldn't see it. He was just in time, the middle aged man was at the corner of the bed and had his own gun pointing down at him. He shot at the foot he could see three times hitting twice. The sound that exited the other man’s throat had been a gurgled scream. He made note of the thud as the man’s pistol hit the floor.

 Now! He used all his upper body strength to propel himself up from behind the bed into a kneeling position. He extended the gun to his target who was crouched holding his bloodied foot. Their eyes had met now for the first time and held them both in suspended animation for what seemed like a century. Death had come this night and the other now knew it for certain. He saw it in his face, plain acceptance. Then without any hesitation he pulled the trigger, stabbing the other with nine millimetres of lead straight between his eyes. The target's head flicked back spraying blood on the carpet and wall as he landed on his back.

He rose to his feet placing his weight on the good leg noticed for the first time since he’d been shot, the girl in the corner of the room, sat hunched up with her arms round her legs whimpering. She had been screaming throughout the shooting and only now had her noise surrendered to breathing which seemed to catch up with her. The girl reminded him of a rabbit after it had been frightened half to death. Sometimes when on the road a rabbit might get caught between the headlights. It had happened to him once, he’d stopped at the time because he was drunk. The rabbit had been unharmed but the trauma was so much for it that it was in shock, he figured the thing would probably die from that in a short while and so he put it down. He saw this as no different, she was obviously a w***e that the older man had brought up for his own amusement, a shame… but she wouldn’t be missed and that left no witnesses.

            Tat, tat, tat… ‘Is everything alright in there?’ The voice from behind the door was from one of the bell boys come to check after a complaint from another room of loud bangs. In the moments of the belle boy speaking he was caught off guard but that was a symptom how quickly the job had turned south. This would not usually have  been a surprise with the noise of the gun shots but he had planned on putting one bullet in a man's head and then promptly leaving. He squared himself with the door pointed his pistol forward ignoring the girl behind him who screamed louder than before, this time the scream formed into a word that sounded like ‘help me’ on the other side of the door the bell boy tapped again this time more urgently saying ‘Hello are you ok?’ He levelled the gun at chest height then shot twice and raising the gun four inches he shot the remaining two bullets of the clip. After a moment there was a thud outside in the corridor, he turned his attention back to the girl still screaming. He released the spent clip and rammed a fresh one home pulling the top back to load the chamber. ‘I’m sorry’ it was all he could say. She had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, since the beginning of the night her fate had led her to this end. It would have been a shame if she were using her life for a more fulfilling purpose. One shot then he placed his gun back under his coat and departed leaving her body to slump in the corner her mouth open and eyes wide, wide but lifeless. He opened the door to a boy no older than twenty seated against the wall of the corridor with a streak of blood down the wall. The boy had taken two shots in his chest a third in his forehead and the last in his neck where his head had snapped back. He stepped over the body and retreated with haste; police would be on the way.

 

            That first experience had taught him that there was more to take into account than what one expected and that there were consequences for being improperly prepared. He thought he was ready then, thought he was devoid of emotion that he was a killing machine. It had also taught him that he was also capable of fear and a small amount of regret for the prostitute and bell boy who were unfortunate casualties of a job gone mostly wrong.

            The motor finally died and the car door opened. A young woman stepped out; as her head came up over the roof she revealed long blonde hair that hung over her shoulders. She was wearing a blue pinstripe suit, which clung tight to her every curve accentuating the slender body underneath. She held a newspaper over her head to cover from the rain as she skipped over puddles until she got to the front door. She bought the paper down in front of her in a hand also holding her house key. He had watched all of this through the scope of his rifle, he breathed in once more, held the breath a moment and as he released the breath he squeezed the trigger.

            He watched as the paper in her hand instantly sprayed red, the bullet had gone through her back and exited through the chest. The moment seemed like an eternity in front of his eyes the reality was only seconds.

            He watched his victim just flop to the floor, a pool of blood collecting under her body but already the rain was running streaks through the blotch that faded in with natures tears. There was smoke exiting the barrel of his rifle as he dismantled it carefully and placed it back into the case it came from. Once more he heard the roar of a car engine tearing up the road and again the sound faded as it went on down the road behind him. This time was different it didn’t keep fading in the distance it slowed and stopped. S**t. He slipped back and covered the moulds of his body that were imprinted in the mud and started back through the woods.

            He came down onto the road and walked hastily in the direction of his truck where he highly suspected someone had stopped to check on it, possibly the local police. As he got closer he saw the lights of the police car flashing ahead of him. Ah… f**k it. He dropped the case and took his pistol from out the back of his trousers checked the clip then slid it back into his trousers just in the small of his back. It would be easy to reach there in case the unfortunate were to arise. Lifting his case holding the rifle he then proceeded to walk toward the officer of whose attention had remained on his truck and not noticed him coming on up the road.

            ‘Good evening officer.’ His tone was pleasant and he kept his voice level making his greeting as rational and normal as he could muster. He could feel the heat in his hands and the sweat on his brow that he hoped was covered by the rain, he was anything but calm not due to nerves but the adrenaline that was pumping through him. That was one thing that had never changed, he just hoped the man in front of him wouldn’t notice. ‘Evening’ the officer, replied, ‘is this your truck?’ His gaze turned to the truck, which he obviously new was his, then back to the officer. He guessed the officers age to be around mid thirties and he was married as evident by the ring on his left hand. In the man’s hand was a pad and pen, which he was now tapping together. The main threat was the officer’s radio that had now buzzed into life in a mass of static. The officer stated his position and came back asking for fifteen minutes. Perhaps he could get rid of this problem without any mess. ‘Yes, sorry officer is there a problem?’ The man came slowly to meet him. ‘Well I found your truck here on the road and I thought it had been abandoned.’

            ‘Sorry officer.’

            ‘If you don’t mind my asking what have you been doing?’

            ‘I’ve been filming some of the nocturnal wildlife in these wooded areas, it’s for a documentary.’ The policeman raised his eyebrows then with a little more curiosity ‘Oh, what’s the documentary for?’

‘A study on nocturnal animals’

            The officer laughed at his comment then said ‘No, I meant is it for TV or something?’

            ‘University, project for my students’

            ‘Dedicated professional eh, I like that. What’s in the case?’ S**t… ‘Just a camera and some equipment for working at night’

            ‘Really can I see it?’

            ‘Sure.’ He said smiling.

            That was it, curiosity would now kill the cat. He hadn’t bought into his story enough, or as it seemed a little too much. There was nothing more he could do for him. As far as he was concerned the man had dug his own grave. He took the case and put it onto the bonnet of the truck, loosened the catches then moved out of the officer’s way so he could take a good look at the contents. As the police officer lifted the lid he had leaned back against the truck. There were two reasons one was that he wanted to see the man’s face when he opened the case, the second was because when he blew his head off he wanted the most part of the spray away from his vehicle. The case opened and the officer’s eyes seemed to open just as wide. He turned his face but the last thing he saw was the barrel of a silenced pistol.

He put the gun away and instead took out a packet of cigarettes. He lit one up and taking a long drag he then exhaled slowly. He never smoked on a job it was a rule but he would always have just one when he was done. Slipping the case in the back seat and slipping into the truck he turned on the radio. The station became alive with rock music, he tapped the steering wheel in time, bobbed his head and with a screech of the wheels he was gone.   

           

 

Author's Note

I wrote this over 15 years ago, it was my first attempt at a short story. I am considering writing more, turning it in to an ongoing series. The question is, is it any good? Do people think I should continue?