Gerard watched for his
target from the entrance of an alley across the street from the man’s building.
Anyone seeing him now would be hard put to recognize the dapper, well-dressed gentleman
who ran in some of the more elite circles of St. Cloud. Now his usually well-coifed hair
was lank, hanging in unkempt, dirty strands around his face. His beard had the
same unclean look, scraggly and sporting a few shreds of dropped food. His layers
of clothes appeared not better, old, tattered and torn. On the ground in front
of him was a well-worn hat with a few paltry coins sitting in the bottom.
However underneath the outer
façade was the hunter, the game player, carrying the tools of his ‘trade’. His
dark eyes were alert, taking in everything around him, noting the people he
might someday go after if he had the time. If not he might point his sons in
their directions. Not the specific people, he wasn’t about to track them down,
but the kind, the fools whose actions bothered others to one degree or another.
Like the man who made a half-hearted attempt to throw his trash into a litter
bin, not bothering to stop and pick it up when it missed.
But that was for the future.
Now Gerard was after specific prey. He had dealt with the man when trying to
return a purchase that didn’t work the way it claimed on the outside of the
box. The man, middle-aged and obviously bored with his job and all it entailed,
had been very rude and demeaning even after he’d finally agreed to give Gerard either
a replacement or a voucher to cover the cost as long as he used it at that
store.
As he watched, he saw four
people leaving the store, his target among them. They walked down the street
and into a fast-food place. Ten minutes later they were back, carrying drinks
and bags of food as they headed towards a small park on his side of the street.
He picked up his hat,
pocketing the coins before putting it on. Then he staggered towards the park.
The man he was interested in sat at one end of a bench talking to his
companions while he ate. Gerard flopped down against a tree a few yards away,
scratching under one armpit.
“People like that shouldn’t
be allowed here,” Gerard’s prey said loudly enough to be heard halfway across
the park, looking pointedly at Gerard.
The man’s friends seemed
slightly embarrassed at his outburst and obviously were trying to calm him down
and change the subject. The man allowed that but kept turning to glare at
Gerard. Soon two of them left, saying they needed to get back to work. The
remaining man continued talking to Gerard’s prey for a few minutes more before
standing. Gerard heard him say, “Well if it bothers you so much get a cop to
have him removed or taken in to detox.”
“I just might do that,” was
the growled reply as the man watched his companion head back across the street
towards the store. Then he glanced around as if looking for a cop. Not seeing
one he got up and strode over to where Gerard sat. “You are disgusting. Get a
job,” he said angrily.
Pushing to his feet Gerard
stared at him bleary-eyed. “Spare a dollar for a cuppa?” he muttered. Then he
staggered, slamming into the man hard. The man was so angry and disgusted he
didn’t feel it as Gerard pressed the plunger on the syringe he held hidden in
one hand, injecting a lethal mix of Levitra and amyl nitrite into the man’s
arm. He shoved Gerard away hard; looking down as if to make certain Gerard’s
filthy clothing hadn’t left any detritus on his suit.
“You belong in jail. If
there was cop around…but there never are when you need them,” the man spat out.
Then turning sharply he almost ran out of the park.
Gerard watched him, a feral
smile on his face, and then headed in the opposite direction towards the
parking garage where he’d left the van.
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