The assassin took a step back and sighed. He turned slowly, lifted his collar and moved away from the bundle of rags. Peter had been such a nice guy. Pity really. Life was hard, but it didn’t need to be like this. Debts had to be paid. If they weren’t then there had to be consequences.
As he left the alleyway, a gust of wind caught him. As if to whip open his coat and discard his secrets on the footpath. He pulled his collar tighter and moved into the crowd.
The rain was just starting as he turned the key in the lock and moved indoors. He opened the sideboard doors and relieved himself of his burden. Turning into the living room, he forced a smile. Jonathan looked up as the door swung open. His eyes glowed with recognition.
“Daddy! You’re home!”, he squealed as he was lifted off the ground.
“Yes son, I’m home. Why don’t you go and tell your mother.”
A quick pat on the head and Jonathan was through the door.
“Mammy, mammy!”
The young voice faded into the near distance.
To be indoors on a day like this was comforting. Maybe it was the knowledge that here the elements couldn’t touch you, that whatever was out there was safely out there and could be ignored. He briefly thought of poor Peter. The elements meant nothing to him any more. No more cold nights. He cast the thought aside and pulled his leather chair closer to the fire. He could still feel the cold outside, the memory of the bitter wind sent a shiver down his back. He poured a brandy and relaxed.
“Daddy, look what I found!’
“What is it son?”
“It was on the floor. Can I keep it?”
“What is it”
He turned to see his son holding his gun. Fear was quickly supplanted by anger. The roar of his voice surprised him.
“Give it to me now!”
“Ah Daddy can I keep it?”
Jonathan was turning the gun in his hands. Even though he was just a child, it almost as if he could feel the power that it bestowed on the holder.
“Daddy I want to play cops and robbers!”
There was a snap. His mind reacted immediately, that was the safety it told him. He moved. He was fast, but not fast enough. There was a flash, a quiet phut and then there was… There was no pain, no fear, just resignation.
His last conscious thought was that some would call this justice. Justice for poor Peter lying in the alleyway, and for all the others.
His eyes closed.
Jonathan screamed.
Across town, the wind blew over a bundle of rags, there was a groan and Peter groggily lifted himself to his feet. He stumbled down the alley and onto the street. Dropping to his knees, he grunted in pain and grabbed the legs of a passerby.
“Hey mister, call me an ambulance.”
Soon after two ambulances pulled up at the hospital. One set of lights were flashing, one set weren’t.
