18 May 2012
What a prick.
I mean, I didn't know the man, and he didn't know me, but when you get all in my face like that, there's only going to be one outcome. And I wasn't in any kind of mood for his bullshit, not tonight. He was a big man, but I'd caught him well, just below the knee. He stayed down, thank Christ.
It was a miserable night, cold and wet, rain bouncing back off the street onto my shoes. The gaudy coloured neon signs were making distorted reflections in the puddles. I barely glanced at the stinking holes that laughably called themselves clubs, knowing full well what was really going on behind their seedy, sad exteriors. I'd walked these streets too long not to know. I pulled the collar of my coat up a little more, partly to keep the damn rain out, but also to try not to be spotted too soon. I saw an empty shop doorway across from the fleshpits and walked over, glad for the brief respite from the goddamned rain.
I took out a cigarette and lit it, gratefully taking the harsh smoke down and eventually exhaling, slowly. How could it have all gone so wrong? Everything had been in place, from my expensively assembled team, to the girl I'd paid handsomely to be part of my cover, the plan, endless weeks of surveillance, all to be blown apart. Literally. It had all started well. Everything was in place, and the target was actually where he should have been for once. The tiny transmitter in my ear crackled to life to tell me he was on his way. And then I saw him. I gave the signal to move and boom, the whole place went to hell. The explosion completely destroyed the bar, killing dozens. The poor girl, well, best left unsaid. Guns blazing, the screams from the innocents that were caught up in our little game, blood everywhere. My whole team, lost. And from my vantage point on the floor among the broken glass and poor dead bastards, I could just see him, through the smoke, running fast out the door. I stayed down.
I dropped the cigarette into a puddle, where it extinguished itself. I looked across the street. It was another one of his shitholes, one I knew he'd bolted to before. I didn't know, but I was sure he'd be there, holed up out back. Out of the dark a figure came toward me. It was Little Sammy. I hated like hell to get him involved, but I'd had information from him before, and it was good. He slowed as he came near, took a nervous look at the club, and then an even more nervous look at me. Imperceptibly he nodded his head. I had his money ready and pressed it into his palm, then gestured up the street with my head as if to say "get the hell out". He didn't need a second invitation. He was gone.
So, he was here. I didn't have a plan this time. It was only me. I could feel the weight of my snub nose under my arm. It gave some comfort, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. And anyway, this was not the time to quit. Not this time.
I looked around. No-one. Just the noise from his club. A few drunkards sleeping it off in doorways. Cold and wet, I steeled myself and walked into the street, and stopped at the door of the club. There was no-one, his men or otherwise, to greet me.
I was going to have to be careful...
Opuss № I