I watch him make eye contact with his wife, and I see the disappointment in his gaze. I don’t move my own over to see what the look on her face is. I can guess it.
Tired. Sad. Burdened.
She won’t have to worry about that for long. She’ll be going through another kind of burden entirely in just another second.
One. Two.
My finger rests on the trigger. I take a breath. Pull.
The first bullet is simply to shatter the window to pieces. They go clattering about and there’s a split second of time between the first and second bullet that allows for the man at the head of the table to look up directly where the bullet had come from.
His eyes meet mine in the darkness, I can see him, but I know he can’t see me. All he’ll see is the blackness of the night from which his death comes to him.
The second bullet rings out in a quick explosion from the gun and tears through the front of his skull in less than a second.
Blood splatters all along the table and he’s gone before anyone else at the table can process what’s happened. The bullet out of the back of his head and into the China cabinet.
His wide eyes fade from the living and my job is done.
I slick the safety back on the gun, strap it to my back and turn around.
As I walk away, I hear the screaming begin. The children and his wife. Their screams are different. His wife’s screams are of disbelief and horror, but the children…they’re simply shocked. They have no real understanding of what has just happened, but they witnessed it regardless.
I could have chosen a different time, but not a better one. There is no better time to kill a corrupt Politian. In front of his family seems cruel and inhumane.
It is.
So are the polices that he enforced and supported.
I’m simply trading one immoral act for another, I recognize that, but perhaps the world will be a better place as a whole, for the deadly actions of one man, taking down a man who may have killed hundreds of thousands.
Or not.
Perhaps nothing will really change, and his death will simply be used to make matters worse.
I wipe the sweat from my brow as I disappear into the trees and come out on the other side to a car waiting there for me.
“Is it done?” the driver asks.
“It’s done,” I reply simply.
The driver reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a yellow envelope, tossing it back to me.
“I never want to see you again.”
I nod, saying nothing else as I take the rest of my payment. I keep my mouth shut as I’m driven several miles away, and dropped off on the side of the road. I walk the remaining way to the entrance to the underground in San Damiano.
The closer I get to the place I’ve called home the last few months, the heavier the gun feels on my back.
I need a fucking drink.
I need to get out of this clothing.
As I get to the cellar entrance, I pull the mask down from my face and suck in a breath of fresh air before going down.
It’s eerily quiet down here for this time of night. The night is when most of us get out work done. Whether it’s killing, getting intel, or preparing for a group mission, it’s all done under the cover of the night. Day time is for playing our parts in the other world. The world above our heads where we’re expected to pick a side and behave.
“Aleksandr,” a voice from the left of me as I’m heading to my makeshift room.
