A Rough Night
A Rough Night
‘A police sergeant has to be killed and his house must be torched,’ said a man who is dearly known to the public as The Boss. He held an old-fashioned cigar in his hand and concealed himself underneath the shadows of the walls, hiding from full-view. He exhaled the cigar smoke and blew it upwards, the blue smoke from the cigar ascended the atmosphere and faded out of vision.
‘Why?’ asked Harry.
‘He has dope that can imprison me.’
‘So?’
‘Kill him,’ replied The Boss as he again exhaled.
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
Harry sighed. He pushed both hands deep into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet and whistled like a lark, turning his eyes away from The Boss and observing his surroundings. At the same time a dozen men surrounding him looked at him, and each one had a blank expression on their face, these men have witnessed many people like Harry whom The Boss hired for serious tasks.
‘What’s my share?’ asked Harry, he didn’t make eye contact with The Boss even though he posed a question.
‘1,000 dollars for the kill. Anything you ask for if it’s perfect.’
Harry extracted his hands from his pockets and turned to face The Boss. He closed his eyes and seemed to consider the offer thrown at him. A few moments passed and The Boss was looking at Harry with great interest, his men seemed to have noticed their boss look at this lad with great interest and they too, grew interested. Harry shook his head in denial with his eyes still closed and later seemed to reconsider his options, he was now tapping on the floor and biting his lips.
‘I need to think,’ said Harry after a minute of silence, what he said didn’t sound like a request and didn’t sound like a statement either it sounded like he was ordering The Boss to give him time to consider the offer.
‘How long?’
‘Two minutes,’ said Harry. There was substance in the tone of Harry that amazed The Boss, he knew that his choice of an assassin wasn’t wrong and he also knew that Harry could earn more than the thousand he had mentioned. The Boss smiled and his men, seeing him smile, smiled themselves.
‘Take your time.’
Harry dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged with his eyes closed in a meditative posture, the kind that Yoga suggests to adopt when meditating. There was a slight difference in the posture adopted by Harry and the posture that Yoga suggests, the difference being the orientation of the right hand. Harry was stroking his chin and pulling his beard which Yoga doesn’t profess; Yoga suggests to place both hands on your lap and not to make any physical movements.
After two minutes, Harry rose from his meditative trance and opened his eyes which grew bright under the darkness of the surroundings.
‘I’ll do it.’
The Boss pulled the cigar from his lips, exhaled the smoke for the last time and gave it to a man who was standing behind him, the man who took the cigar appeared out of the shadows and Harry hadn’t noticed his presence in the darkness. It was the same man who brought Harry here, he thought to himself.
‘Good. Take five men with you.’
The statement made by The Boss seemed like a thunderbolt that struck Harry from out of nowhere, his composed self let out a slight whistle and his lower jaw separated from the upper one and hung in mid-air.
‘I... won’t be needing them,’ said Harry. ‘I can pull this off on my own.’
‘Take them for back-up.’
‘I refuse,’ replied Harry as he held both his hands behind his back, his right arm was holding his left.
‘Watch your mouth, kid,’ said the man from the shadows, the man who had brought Harry here and the man who was cause for all this trouble.
‘You don’t order me around, pal,’ said Harry in an infuriated tone. His right arm’s hold on his left grew tighter and he could hear the word ‘pal’ being uttered multiple times from the walls, or to put it bluntly, the walls produced echoes.
‘Harry,’ said The Boss. his voice had shut the man from the shadows and radiated an aura of power and leadership and loosened Harry’s grip on his left arm. The Boss rose from his throne and walked towards Harry, the moonlight from the window fell cross on his face and illuminated the battle scars which were disgusting. The Boss is a hefty man with a butterfly moustache and drowsy eyes, his hair was grizzled and he appeared to be old and experienced in his field. He wasn’t athletic, not one bit.
‘Harry, take five men with you.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘I do. That’s why I’m sending them with you, for your safety. Freddie is a dangerous cop and he might expect us, I can’t take any chances of you getting killed.’
Harry nodded in approval and released his left arm, he took another deep breath and pointed his left index finger at the man in the shadows.
‘I’m not taking him. If I did, I might end up killing him too. You know I’m a merciful man, I won’t take him.’
‘Of course. That’s Tom by the way, my right hand man.’
‘I don’t care. He might even be your son, I don’t give a damn.’
The Boss chuckled showing his yellow teeth which were as yellow as if they were painted with a crayon by a child; Harry immediately deduced that The Boss doesn’t brush his teeth, if he does, he ought to change his toothpaste and toothbrush before he ends up losing his teeth.
A few moments of silence followed.
‘What’s your plan?’ asked The Boss.
As a reply Harry pulled out his Beretta PX4 and held it in his hand, the firearm instantly changed the expression of The Boss. In addition to change the expression of The Boss, the firearm also changed the expression of all the men in the room, except Tom.
‘Get to Fred’s place and blow his brains all over the place.’
Although this may be what Harry had told The Boss, this wasn’t how he was going to murder Freddie.
An hour later, Harry and five men drove to Freddie’s apartment in Harry’s van. Seeing that the lights in the apartment were still glowing, it wouldn’t be wrong to deduce that Freddie was still awake; although this may be true, it doesn’t guarantee Freddie’s presence in his apartment.
The five men who accompanied Harry were dumber that The Boss himself, they were looking everywhere but at the apartment as if searching for fishes in a desert. Nonetheless, within a few moments their bright eyes spotted the apartment and all five of them giggled, like a pack of hyenas who found a dead prey.
‘I go in. You stay inside,’ said Harry. ‘And not one sound.’
All five heads nodded in the same pace at the same time, it was as if they were programmed to do that. After Harry left they pulled a deck of cards and started playing without making a sound in the van, as they were instructed.
Harry put his hand in his pocket and felt the curves of his gun, he knew the curves of his gun like he knew the curves of his wife’s body; he knew every crevice and every crack on his gun, he could conjure the picture of the gun in his mind’s eye any time he wanted.
All of a sudden, music began to play from the apartment, soft, sweet and classical. Harry could now say without apprehension, that the victim was inside. Harry turned a glance to the five men in his van and saw them playing cards, he let out a sigh and at the same time, knocked on the apartment door.
The night had been cold and chilling and at the same time Harry felt a sudden warmth creep through his chest and limbs; it felt neither too warm, nor too cold but the temperature didn’t bother him. He was here on a mission and men on missions don’t care about the weather. He stood in front of the door for a few more moments when his knock was answered by the familiar face of Freddie. ‘Familiar’ in the sense that Freddie was a regular visitor to the pub and so was Harry, they’ve chanced to meet several times on several of these occasions and there was once an occasion where Harry had bought a drink for the cop.
‘Cold night,’ said Harry.
‘Come in,’ replied Freddie and without delay, opened the door wide enough for Harry to enter.
‘You like music, don’t you?’ asked Freddie after he’d ushered Harry into a chair and stood by the hi-fi system placing a hand on the machine.
‘I do.’
After a long pause during which the two men exchanged glances, Freddie said:
‘You’ve come here to kill me.’
Harry sighed and nodded in the affirmative. Freddie didn’t respond, he stood there by the hi-fi system looking here and there, he was thinking. For a second his eyes pointed to the dining table and the next second his eyes were on the fridge, he was looking everywhere, he was looking nowhere. Harry was sure of one face, Freddie wasn’t scared of death. Fear is a strange emotion, it makes you panic and act when you’re supposed to be calm.
‘Are you alone?’ asked Freddie as he now looked straight into the eyes of his assassin.
‘No. There are five men in front of your house.’
‘How much would he pay you?’
‘Thousand.’
Freddie nodded and from time to time, scratched his beard. Harry was in no hurry, he could continue with this chit-chat all night, the longer he talks the more pressure he puts on his victim and putting pressure was something that amused Harry, especially if it concerned cops like Freddie.
After pondering on the current situation for a moment or two, Freddie said:
‘I can offer you more.’
Harry couldn’t help but smile at what he’d heard.
‘Please, I beg of you. I have a family that needs feeding, I have a wife who needs me and two children who need a father. I’ll offer you a thousand five hundred, please.’
Harry expected Freddie to be a tough cop. Harry expected Freddie to be fearless of death, but as things turned out, Freddie was indeed scared of death and was offering to pay Harry more than his employer.
Harry pulled out the Beretta from his pocket and aimed at Fred’s head. At the sight of the gun, Freddie dropped on his knees as if to pray and clasped his hands together; for a moment there, Harry felt like a God who has to decide a man’s fate. Freddie was crying, shedding silent tears and pleaded in whispers. Harry smiled and pulled the trigger, there wasn’t a loud report, no bullet left the barrel and no murder was committed at that moment. Freddie had closed his eyes and was shaking fervently, Harry knew his Beretta wasn’t loaded, he knew each and every crevice and crack of the gun and being a man of such great knowledge on the subject of his gun, he ought to know whether it was loaded or not.
‘You have a gun?’ asked Harry.
Freddie opened his eyes and gaped at Harry. It took him several more moments to regain his lost senses and he nodded in the affirmative as a reply to Harry.
‘Good. Give it to me.’
Freddie did as was instructed and awaiting further orders.
‘Five men. Playing cards in the van, unarmed. Come with me and watch. ’
Freddie nodded and the duo, without delay went straightaway to the van in question. As Harry said, the five men were playing cards. Upon the arrival of the two, the five men jumped out of the van with dubious looks on their faces; useless brains, they didn’t understand that they were betrayed.
The deed was done, the report of the gun was loud but didn’t attract much attention from the surroundings, a couple of owls looked at the seven men from atop the trees but didn’t react to the loud report. It was as if the owls were accustomed to seeing murder scenes from tree-tops and what happened that night, was to be considered as another such tragedy, seen by owls who cannot testify in a court.
‘Why did you do this?’
‘I have a wife, sir. Transfer the fifteen hundred you mentioned to my bank account,’ said Harry as he returned the gun to the sergeant with a smile.
‘Why?’ asked Harry.
‘He has dope that can imprison me.’
‘So?’
‘Kill him,’ replied The Boss as he again exhaled.
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
Harry sighed. He pushed both hands deep into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet and whistled like a lark, turning his eyes away from The Boss and observing his surroundings. At the same time a dozen men surrounding him looked at him, and each one had a blank expression on their face, these men have witnessed many people like Harry whom The Boss hired for serious tasks.
‘What’s my share?’ asked Harry, he didn’t make eye contact with The Boss even though he posed a question.
‘1,000 dollars for the kill. Anything you ask for if it’s perfect.’
Harry extracted his hands from his pockets and turned to face The Boss. He closed his eyes and seemed to consider the offer thrown at him. A few moments passed and The Boss was looking at Harry with great interest, his men seemed to have noticed their boss look at this lad with great interest and they too, grew interested. Harry shook his head in denial with his eyes still closed and later seemed to reconsider his options, he was now tapping on the floor and biting his lips.
‘I need to think,’ said Harry after a minute of silence, what he said didn’t sound like a request and didn’t sound like a statement either it sounded like he was ordering The Boss to give him time to consider the offer.
‘How long?’
‘Two minutes,’ said Harry. There was substance in the tone of Harry that amazed The Boss, he knew that his choice of an assassin wasn’t wrong and he also knew that Harry could earn more than the thousand he had mentioned. The Boss smiled and his men, seeing him smile, smiled themselves.
‘Take your time.’
Harry dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged with his eyes closed in a meditative posture, the kind that Yoga suggests to adopt when meditating. There was a slight difference in the posture adopted by Harry and the posture that Yoga suggests, the difference being the orientation of the right hand. Harry was stroking his chin and pulling his beard which Yoga doesn’t profess; Yoga suggests to place both hands on your lap and not to make any physical movements.
After two minutes, Harry rose from his meditative trance and opened his eyes which grew bright under the darkness of the surroundings.
‘I’ll do it.’
The Boss pulled the cigar from his lips, exhaled the smoke for the last time and gave it to a man who was standing behind him, the man who took the cigar appeared out of the shadows and Harry hadn’t noticed his presence in the darkness. It was the same man who brought Harry here, he thought to himself.
‘Good. Take five men with you.’
The statement made by The Boss seemed like a thunderbolt that struck Harry from out of nowhere, his composed self let out a slight whistle and his lower jaw separated from the upper one and hung in mid-air.
‘I... won’t be needing them,’ said Harry. ‘I can pull this off on my own.’
‘Take them for back-up.’
‘I refuse,’ replied Harry as he held both his hands behind his back, his right arm was holding his left.
‘Watch your mouth, kid,’ said the man from the shadows, the man who had brought Harry here and the man who was cause for all this trouble.
‘You don’t order me around, pal,’ said Harry in an infuriated tone. His right arm’s hold on his left grew tighter and he could hear the word ‘pal’ being uttered multiple times from the walls, or to put it bluntly, the walls produced echoes.
‘Harry,’ said The Boss. his voice had shut the man from the shadows and radiated an aura of power and leadership and loosened Harry’s grip on his left arm. The Boss rose from his throne and walked towards Harry, the moonlight from the window fell cross on his face and illuminated the battle scars which were disgusting. The Boss is a hefty man with a butterfly moustache and drowsy eyes, his hair was grizzled and he appeared to be old and experienced in his field. He wasn’t athletic, not one bit.
‘Harry, take five men with you.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘I do. That’s why I’m sending them with you, for your safety. Freddie is a dangerous cop and he might expect us, I can’t take any chances of you getting killed.’
Harry nodded in approval and released his left arm, he took another deep breath and pointed his left index finger at the man in the shadows.
‘I’m not taking him. If I did, I might end up killing him too. You know I’m a merciful man, I won’t take him.’
‘Of course. That’s Tom by the way, my right hand man.’
‘I don’t care. He might even be your son, I don’t give a damn.’
The Boss chuckled showing his yellow teeth which were as yellow as if they were painted with a crayon by a child; Harry immediately deduced that The Boss doesn’t brush his teeth, if he does, he ought to change his toothpaste and toothbrush before he ends up losing his teeth.
A few moments of silence followed.
‘What’s your plan?’ asked The Boss.
As a reply Harry pulled out his Beretta PX4 and held it in his hand, the firearm instantly changed the expression of The Boss. In addition to change the expression of The Boss, the firearm also changed the expression of all the men in the room, except Tom.
‘Get to Fred’s place and blow his brains all over the place.’
Although this may be what Harry had told The Boss, this wasn’t how he was going to murder Freddie.
An hour later, Harry and five men drove to Freddie’s apartment in Harry’s van. Seeing that the lights in the apartment were still glowing, it wouldn’t be wrong to deduce that Freddie was still awake; although this may be true, it doesn’t guarantee Freddie’s presence in his apartment.
The five men who accompanied Harry were dumber that The Boss himself, they were looking everywhere but at the apartment as if searching for fishes in a desert. Nonetheless, within a few moments their bright eyes spotted the apartment and all five of them giggled, like a pack of hyenas who found a dead prey.
‘I go in. You stay inside,’ said Harry. ‘And not one sound.’
All five heads nodded in the same pace at the same time, it was as if they were programmed to do that. After Harry left they pulled a deck of cards and started playing without making a sound in the van, as they were instructed.
Harry put his hand in his pocket and felt the curves of his gun, he knew the curves of his gun like he knew the curves of his wife’s body; he knew every crevice and every crack on his gun, he could conjure the picture of the gun in his mind’s eye any time he wanted.
All of a sudden, music began to play from the apartment, soft, sweet and classical. Harry could now say without apprehension, that the victim was inside. Harry turned a glance to the five men in his van and saw them playing cards, he let out a sigh and at the same time, knocked on the apartment door.
The night had been cold and chilling and at the same time Harry felt a sudden warmth creep through his chest and limbs; it felt neither too warm, nor too cold but the temperature didn’t bother him. He was here on a mission and men on missions don’t care about the weather. He stood in front of the door for a few more moments when his knock was answered by the familiar face of Freddie. ‘Familiar’ in the sense that Freddie was a regular visitor to the pub and so was Harry, they’ve chanced to meet several times on several of these occasions and there was once an occasion where Harry had bought a drink for the cop.
‘Cold night,’ said Harry.
‘Come in,’ replied Freddie and without delay, opened the door wide enough for Harry to enter.
‘You like music, don’t you?’ asked Freddie after he’d ushered Harry into a chair and stood by the hi-fi system placing a hand on the machine.
‘I do.’
After a long pause during which the two men exchanged glances, Freddie said:
‘You’ve come here to kill me.’
Harry sighed and nodded in the affirmative. Freddie didn’t respond, he stood there by the hi-fi system looking here and there, he was thinking. For a second his eyes pointed to the dining table and the next second his eyes were on the fridge, he was looking everywhere, he was looking nowhere. Harry was sure of one face, Freddie wasn’t scared of death. Fear is a strange emotion, it makes you panic and act when you’re supposed to be calm.
‘Are you alone?’ asked Freddie as he now looked straight into the eyes of his assassin.
‘No. There are five men in front of your house.’
‘How much would he pay you?’
‘Thousand.’
Freddie nodded and from time to time, scratched his beard. Harry was in no hurry, he could continue with this chit-chat all night, the longer he talks the more pressure he puts on his victim and putting pressure was something that amused Harry, especially if it concerned cops like Freddie.
After pondering on the current situation for a moment or two, Freddie said:
‘I can offer you more.’
Harry couldn’t help but smile at what he’d heard.
‘Please, I beg of you. I have a family that needs feeding, I have a wife who needs me and two children who need a father. I’ll offer you a thousand five hundred, please.’
Harry expected Freddie to be a tough cop. Harry expected Freddie to be fearless of death, but as things turned out, Freddie was indeed scared of death and was offering to pay Harry more than his employer.
Harry pulled out the Beretta from his pocket and aimed at Fred’s head. At the sight of the gun, Freddie dropped on his knees as if to pray and clasped his hands together; for a moment there, Harry felt like a God who has to decide a man’s fate. Freddie was crying, shedding silent tears and pleaded in whispers. Harry smiled and pulled the trigger, there wasn’t a loud report, no bullet left the barrel and no murder was committed at that moment. Freddie had closed his eyes and was shaking fervently, Harry knew his Beretta wasn’t loaded, he knew each and every crevice and crack of the gun and being a man of such great knowledge on the subject of his gun, he ought to know whether it was loaded or not.
‘You have a gun?’ asked Harry.
Freddie opened his eyes and gaped at Harry. It took him several more moments to regain his lost senses and he nodded in the affirmative as a reply to Harry.
‘Good. Give it to me.’
Freddie did as was instructed and awaiting further orders.
‘Five men. Playing cards in the van, unarmed. Come with me and watch. ’
Freddie nodded and the duo, without delay went straightaway to the van in question. As Harry said, the five men were playing cards. Upon the arrival of the two, the five men jumped out of the van with dubious looks on their faces; useless brains, they didn’t understand that they were betrayed.
The deed was done, the report of the gun was loud but didn’t attract much attention from the surroundings, a couple of owls looked at the seven men from atop the trees but didn’t react to the loud report. It was as if the owls were accustomed to seeing murder scenes from tree-tops and what happened that night, was to be considered as another such tragedy, seen by owls who cannot testify in a court.
‘Why did you do this?’
‘I have a wife, sir. Transfer the fifteen hundred you mentioned to my bank account,’ said Harry as he returned the gun to the sergeant with a smile.