Fred Nixon stared at the photo he’d been given. The room was empty except for a small wooden platform under one window. He leaned against the wall and watched. The building had a line of sight to a swank hotel a few blocks away. It had taken him about a day to figure out which room Bob Everson was in.
He’d been working for forty years and it still surprised him. He had never gotten used to the strange reasons people had for wanting other people dead. This was a good example, he’d been hired by a preacher to eliminate the high priest of the Church of the Rising Star. Aside from being a Satanist and a little bit crazy, Fred hadn’t really seen Bob Everston do anything that warranted him dying. However, those were the exact reasons that the preacher wanted Bob Everston dead.
For Fred, it seemed that there should be a few more reasons, perhaps something personal between the two. There didn’t seem to be though. As far as Fred could tell, the two had never actually met. The preacher was willing to pay though and his fees weren’t cheap.
Fred wondered who the preacher had ripped off to get the fee. He wasn’t going to take these kinds of risks for less than a few million dollars.
Bob Everston had a schedule. He was set to speak three times in New York City, but he had arrived three days early. During these three days, he’d gone jogging in Central Park, had dinner at some very nice restaurants, and a different escort every night. Aside from his overtly hedonistic attitudes towards life, he didn’t seem very Satanic or priestly and frankly, a lot of business men were overtly hedonistic when they were on business trips.
Now, when Bob Everston undressed, he looked a little more Satanic. He was covered in tattoos that depicted demons and devils; a few were taking liberties with silhouetted women. There were also small symbols scattered in between the demonic figures.
Fred ready his rifle. The long distance scope was already dialed in, focused on Bob Everston’s room. He took a bullet from his pocket. It was shiny in the bright light of the day. The word APEX was expertly etched into the casing. He’d take the casing and leave it on the shelf when he was done. No doubt it would take a few hours to find the room, but he wanted them to find the bullet. It was his only vanity.
©Hadena James 2015
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