The Assassin

The Assassin

It was a cold winters night in Chicago, with temperatures well below

freezing. The streets were concealed by a thick white blanket of snow,

and patches of glistening ice were covering the dark alleys where the

earlier blizzards had been unable to dump the snow. In the centre of

the city was a small park. The park played host to an arboretum of oak

and evergreen trees that cast dark, evil shadows, which would have

sent cold, creepy shivers up the spine of the average person. If one

looked very carefully, one would have spotted a man standing in these

shadows, holding a mobile phone. The man was wrapped up warm like any

sensible person would in this weather.

He gave his origins away when he spoke, using mainly Australian slang

he had learnt while growing up with the aborigines he considered

family. He had been given a nickname that had stuck, in English, his

name was "The Assassin." This was because in his childhood, he was the

best, but most savage hunter in the tribe. Now he was contracted to

kill humans.

He was in his mid thirties, but many would have mistaken him for a

younger man. He measured about six foot six, and under his thermals he

hid a bronze, and muscular body. He had thick brown hair, hidden by

his woolly hat. His eyes were blue, and stood out under his thin

eyebrows. His face was well shaved, and at this moment in time looked

relentless. He waited for the call to come on the mobile phone that

had been earlier switched to the silent mode. Finally he felt a

vibration in his hand. He answered the call but didn't speak. The

voice at the other end of the line gave him clear instructions.

"The c...

... middle of paper ...

...Steve, who he had swapped clothes with lay. He took the

bosses bag and opened it, shielding it from the rain with his body,

yes, that was the money he had wanted, one hundred thousand pounds

worth of cash. He emptied the cash into his bag and began to make his

through the rainforest, he laughed as he thought how simple the

operation had been. The American were stupider then he thought.

Towards midnight the rain ceased, and the clouds drifted away, so that

the sky was scattered with the incredible lamp of stars. Then the

breeze died too and there was no noise save the drip and trickle of

water that ran out of clefts and spilled down leaf by leaf to the

brown earth of the rainforest. The air was cool moist and clear, and

the four bodies lay, waiting to be found, or to stay there forever.