Alex crackles in my ear. “He ran away.”
“No shit,” I snap. “Did the cameras pick up which direction his cowardice took him?”
“South side.”
Where else would a trembling little rat scurry but toward the quiet, rotting places? He probably thinks the narrow alleys of the market that starts at the exit of this very building can hide him.
“You said this was a fucking simple job!”
He said that, repeatedly. But guess what? Here I am, with an overdue deadline, and I still run after the spoon-stabbable little shit. Now I really regret not bringing the spoon. He deserves a painful death.
“Guess he has other plans.”
Plans that apparently include me threading stairwells and cutting through corridors I hadn’t planned to use, tracking him through half-functional security cameras, while my most reliable tool is simply the echo of his footsteps.
“Block all the access ways. Don’t let the target leave, or you will become my forty-three.”
Instead of a reply, I hear the keyboard tapping, and I can only hope Alex finds a way to keep this walking dead man inside.
The target keeps on turning left and right at every corner randomly to the point he runs twice through the same corridor. But this time, instead of turning right, he takes a left, which brings him to a dead end caused by a broken access door. Pushing and kicking, he tries everything possible to open the entrance, but he can’t.Alex just pulled himself off of the shit list with this one.
When he spins to face me, his terror is visible from thirty feet away. The man who was about to sell government secrets to the Italian Mafia is gone, replaced by the pathetic figure that wears mismatched socks to official meetings.
“You weren’t supposed to run,” I say calmly, walking carefree toward him.
I shake my head while twisting the blade in my hand. “Did you really have to make this ugly? You made me chase you.”
He continues to spin around, looking for another exit. There is none. It’s either me and my dagger, or the metal door behind him.
“Please—look, I don’t know—I just get scared, but I need the money?—”
“Stop fucking talking. I need to think.” I cut him short.
Do I kill him now? Do I take him back to sell the inside info andthenkill him? Fucking government.
“Alex, how much trouble wouldyoube in if I kill him right now?” I’m talking to the air, but I know he’s listening.
“Not more thanwealready are because of the delay.”
“Good enough for me.”
The excitement must be visible on my face because the little fucker is now panicking, trying to retreat, his back almost glued to the locked door.
As I step closer, I continue, “You were supposed to be easy. Quick. I have already wiped your file. You never existed.”
In under a second, I’m breathing his air. He tries to run, but it doesn’t matter. Fifteen years of training makes restraining someone a reflex.
I stab the blade into his stomach, while my other hand grabs his throat, cutting off the air supply.
“You made me…”
Another stab in his groin. His knees buckle, and the screams get louder and louder, Death joining my hand as I press harder on the blade’s handle. He coughs, and some blood stains my face while most of it flows like a waterfall, puddling on the floor.
I pull his head by the neck and bring his face to my level so I can press my forehead to his. I’m anything if not a darling killer. Holding him in place, I look him straight in his eyes.
“You made me miss his class.”
With one last move, I shove the blade from the base of his neck directly into his unused brain, twisting the last two remaining neurons.