An Easy Job
Part Two
I knew there was no way the woman hadn’t seen me, and yet, she simply stood there staring
at me.
“Hello, uh, ma’am . . . I’m from the hydro company . . . I didn’t mean to startle you.” I
managed to choke out, slowly moving toward her. She said nothing.
“We saw no one was home, see, so I figured I’d just climb up and . . . there’s a problem with
your power, you see.” I assured her, still inching forward. I reluctantly reached back into my belt.
I wasn’t used to carrying a piece . . . I’d never had to use one. Even now, I wasn’t sure if I
would, and as I reached back, it seemed that the decision was already made for me . . .
because it was no longer there.
As I got closer to the woman, an unusual sense of unease found its way into my head. She
wore a blank white dress, only rivalled by her even blanker expression. As I got closer and
closer to her, her face didn’t change whatsoever, giving me that same cold stare she wore as I
came in through the balcony. I’m not sure if I even saw her blink once since we first saw each
other. Just then, a realization dawned on me. I moved away from her line of sight, but her head
remained frozen towards the balcony. I closed the distance between us, and waved my hand in
front of her face.
Nothing.
I’ve never been a rich man, but I’ve found my way into more than a few of their estates, and
they’ve all had one thing in common – taste. If you’d asked me, one day these men found
themselves with more money than they knew what to do with, so they’d buy all these little
trinkets to stick into each dusty corner of their homes. For some, it’s priceless art they knew
nothing about. For others, it’s the heads and skins of animals they themselves didn’t hunt. I’d
guess for this guy, it was a mannequin of the woman he’d always wanted.
I shrugged it off and moved back to the balcony, looking over to the grass below. Between a
few blades of green laid a dark shape I recognized as the revolver. The railing was still slick with
rain, and I’d had enough trouble just getting up here, so I figured I’d just come back for it after I
finished the job. After all, no one was around – it was just me and the mistress.
The hallways were a maze of the same red glow found in the mannequin’s room. Oaken
doors lined one side of the wooden hall, and I checked behind each one in search of Jiang’s
study. I was meant to be looking for some kind of document – some sort of leverage Jiang had
on Valone, no doubt.
The marble stone of the grand staircase felt cold against my hand as I slid it down the railing
into the large room below. You could see two large pools of moonlight with vacant stripes of
darkness from the bars outside each side of the front door. The floor featured even more stone,
making it easy for me to sneak around without worrying about the creaks and cracks of old
wood. The front door was littered with all sorts of locks. Along with the bars, I was becoming
increasingly convinced that I might not have been the first guy to break in. To my left seemed to
be some variety of dining hall, while my right had yet another hallway lined with doors.
Although the floors were marble, they somehow managed to create faint groaning noises,
anyway. Any master thief will tell you to always know which parts of the floor make noises, and
so I began stepping around, memorizing each step accompanied with a groan. I noticed that the
noises would become quieter as I stepped toward the hallway, but louder toward the dining hall.
Perhaps it was out of curiosity . . . or perhaps out of some variety of subconscious concern, but I
decided to follow the faint groans of the marble. I figured I’d likely have to check out that part of
the house at some point, anyway, so off I went.
I checked each room as I followed the sounds – still no study. I was becoming frustrated just
as I came upon the kitchen. Another large room, its walls were lined with cabinets, shelves, and
assorted pots and pans. On the other side of the room laid yet another oak door, this time
mimicking the front door for its obscene amount of locks. Another mannequin stood beside the
door, this time a chef – its angry expression made sinister by the butcher’s blade it held in its
hand. As I paced closer to the door, the groans became louder and louder. The groans were no
longer coming from the floor . . . they were coming from behind this door, and as I finally came
up to it, the groans became a different sound, almost a . . . muffled vibration. I pressed my ear
up to the cold wood, and my eyes widened as I was met with a weak noise from beyond the
locks.
"Help . . . me . . ."
at me.
“Hello, uh, ma’am . . . I’m from the hydro company . . . I didn’t mean to startle you.” I
managed to choke out, slowly moving toward her. She said nothing.
“We saw no one was home, see, so I figured I’d just climb up and . . . there’s a problem with
your power, you see.” I assured her, still inching forward. I reluctantly reached back into my belt.
I wasn’t used to carrying a piece . . . I’d never had to use one. Even now, I wasn’t sure if I
would, and as I reached back, it seemed that the decision was already made for me . . .
because it was no longer there.
As I got closer to the woman, an unusual sense of unease found its way into my head. She
wore a blank white dress, only rivalled by her even blanker expression. As I got closer and
closer to her, her face didn’t change whatsoever, giving me that same cold stare she wore as I
came in through the balcony. I’m not sure if I even saw her blink once since we first saw each
other. Just then, a realization dawned on me. I moved away from her line of sight, but her head
remained frozen towards the balcony. I closed the distance between us, and waved my hand in
front of her face.
Nothing.
I’ve never been a rich man, but I’ve found my way into more than a few of their estates, and
they’ve all had one thing in common – taste. If you’d asked me, one day these men found
themselves with more money than they knew what to do with, so they’d buy all these little
trinkets to stick into each dusty corner of their homes. For some, it’s priceless art they knew
nothing about. For others, it’s the heads and skins of animals they themselves didn’t hunt. I’d
guess for this guy, it was a mannequin of the woman he’d always wanted.
I shrugged it off and moved back to the balcony, looking over to the grass below. Between a
few blades of green laid a dark shape I recognized as the revolver. The railing was still slick with
rain, and I’d had enough trouble just getting up here, so I figured I’d just come back for it after I
finished the job. After all, no one was around – it was just me and the mistress.
The hallways were a maze of the same red glow found in the mannequin’s room. Oaken
doors lined one side of the wooden hall, and I checked behind each one in search of Jiang’s
study. I was meant to be looking for some kind of document – some sort of leverage Jiang had
on Valone, no doubt.
The marble stone of the grand staircase felt cold against my hand as I slid it down the railing
into the large room below. You could see two large pools of moonlight with vacant stripes of
darkness from the bars outside each side of the front door. The floor featured even more stone,
making it easy for me to sneak around without worrying about the creaks and cracks of old
wood. The front door was littered with all sorts of locks. Along with the bars, I was becoming
increasingly convinced that I might not have been the first guy to break in. To my left seemed to
be some variety of dining hall, while my right had yet another hallway lined with doors.
Although the floors were marble, they somehow managed to create faint groaning noises,
anyway. Any master thief will tell you to always know which parts of the floor make noises, and
so I began stepping around, memorizing each step accompanied with a groan. I noticed that the
noises would become quieter as I stepped toward the hallway, but louder toward the dining hall.
Perhaps it was out of curiosity . . . or perhaps out of some variety of subconscious concern, but I
decided to follow the faint groans of the marble. I figured I’d likely have to check out that part of
the house at some point, anyway, so off I went.
I checked each room as I followed the sounds – still no study. I was becoming frustrated just
as I came upon the kitchen. Another large room, its walls were lined with cabinets, shelves, and
assorted pots and pans. On the other side of the room laid yet another oak door, this time
mimicking the front door for its obscene amount of locks. Another mannequin stood beside the
door, this time a chef – its angry expression made sinister by the butcher’s blade it held in its
hand. As I paced closer to the door, the groans became louder and louder. The groans were no
longer coming from the floor . . . they were coming from behind this door, and as I finally came
up to it, the groans became a different sound, almost a . . . muffled vibration. I pressed my ear
up to the cold wood, and my eyes widened as I was met with a weak noise from beyond the
locks.
"Help . . . me . . ."