The Job

Angry, that was a pale imitation of what he was feeling. There was nothing torpid about him as he paced the room. They had gotten rid of him, he had been disgraced. Now it suited them and they needed him all was forgiven?. He felt he could scream but held it all inside, a silent rage.

He had been the very best in the business. No one since had been able to fill the void he had left. He knew it and they knew it. The problem was they would not admit it to him. So he festered and paced. Finally he was summoned again and asked his decision. The smug faces opposite said they knew the answer. He agreed to do the job but decided now was a good time to change the rules.

He took great pleasure watching the smug grins slip from their faces. Knowing they had not seen this coming was immensely satisfying. The rage came under control and he was himself again. There was a lot of babbling now and he sat down and watched. Finally order was restored and they agreed to his demand. A full apology in writing would be his along with his special request.

With everything sorted out he set off to his destination. Entering the five star hotel he checked in to his room. He ordered some room service and watched T.V. Killing time was a part of his job. Patience was his friend and ally. It would soon be time to make his move. Standing in the middle of the room he worked through some stretches. Muscles loosened, he went to the window.

The window was not designed to be fully opened but that did not stop him. Soon he was stood on the ledge and looking down to the street below. He could see the headlights as they cut through the night. He wondered what lives those people led. He knew he would never be one of them, could never be one of them. Turning he jumped up. Hanging from the balcony above he forgot about the fall. Pulling himself up he climbed up. Repeating the manoeuvre again he was now two floors up. The wind was stronger here and he imagined it as avenging souls coming to carry him to his death. Laughing to himself he took out his picks and gained entry to the room.

Asleep in the bed was the target and his wife. The room was as silent as the grave. He made his way across the room. A change in breathing and he stopped dead, one foot in the air. Slowly he lowered it to the carpet and waited. His heart was pounding, god he loved his job. The adrenalin was a kick in the gut. He rode out the rush and waited. Patience was his ally and friend. Deep sleep resumed and he moved forward.

Taking the vial from his pocket he dipped the needle into the clear toxin. Holding the needle over the targets lips he waited. The tiny drop of toxin hung on to the end on the needle. If it had fingers then only the tips had purchase. No longer able to hold on the droplet fell to the lips below. He imagined it as a person falling in slow motion, screaming all the way down. The involuntary action of licking his lips killed the target. Such a simple act but deadly.

He stoppered the vial and moved back to the balcony. He heard the gasping gurgle of the death rattle as he closed the door behind him. He lowered himself to the balcony below. As he repeated the act the avenging wind buffeted him and he slipped. Falling through the air he flung out his hand. Making contact with the ledge outside his room. His fall arrested as his arm pulls taut. Agony ripped through him as tendons stretch to their limits. Hanging one armed from a ledge was not how he imagined this ending.

Feeling strength ebb from him he knows he must act and fast. Ignoring the protests of his aching body he reaches up with his other hand. The pressure eases and he pulls himself up and over. Hitting the carpet as he falls into his room, he is breathing hard. He lays there resting and lets the pain subside. He has never come that close to death before and has never felt so alive.