Hitman's Creed - 11

 

Very early Sunday morning, two days after the freak snowstorm, Joey was standing at the foot of the lane leading up to Glenn's house. He'd gotten a ride to the side road from a friend then walked up here. He wasn't certain now that this was his brightest move but, for whatever reason, he wanted to see the man again. Somewhere where he couldn't turn around and walk away from him.

'Which is damned well insane. All he has to do is ignore my knocking, or tell me to leave the stuff on the porch. And why does it matter if he does let me inside? I'm a kid as far as he's concerned. A stupid kid who managed to get lost in a storm like a tourist.'

The problem was he found Glenn interesting in ways he never had any other male he'd met. Not that he hadn't looked at other men. Hell, he'd done more than look a time or three. The old barn at the far edge of Mr. Tallon's property had been the make-out site for half the teens in town at one point or another and he’d been no exception. The only difference was he'd made out with a couple of the boys at school who didn't want anyone to know they liked guys more than girls.

He didn't know why Glenn had become the subject of his nighttime fantasies. Hell, he was old enough to be his… well not father, never that. But an uncle or… or something. Whichever, he had to be ten years older than Joey, or so he figured. And yet fantasize he did… in very graphic detail.

Joey sighed, clamped down on where his thoughts were headed, and started up the lane.

* * * *

From his bedroom window on the second floor, Glenn watched as Joey came closer to the house. The young man had a backpack and from what Glenn could see of it, it seemed to be crammed to the gills, probably with all the clothes he'd lent Joey other than the jacket, which Joey had slung over one shoulder.

He shook his head, not quite certain whether he was annoyed or amused by the fact that Joey had gone against his express wishes and come here to return everything. Still, if nothing else it might give Glenn a chance to probe a little into the story of Joey's father, if he could figure out how to do that without raising red flags.

After putting on a shirt, Glenn headed downstairs. He reached the living room just as Joey rapped on the door. He opened to say sternly in lieu of a greeting, "I am quite certain I told you I'd pick everything up when I came into town."

"Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood and figured what the hell."

"That is the lamest excuse I think I've ever heard. I'm in no one's neighborhood, by choice." Glenn regretted he'd said the last two words seconds later but it was too late to take them back.

Joey tapped a knuckle against his lips as he looked up at Glenn. "Why by choice? You said you used to work security. Did you piss someone off and they're after you now?"

"Yep, the Mafia. I had the goods on one of them and the man's associates didn't appreciate it," Glenn replied, deciding to play along. "So get your ass in here in case they're in the trees trying to get a good shot at me. I'd hate for them to hit you instead."

Joey flinched even though he was certain Glenn was teasing—he hoped. He walked quickly past the man into the living room then stood there, not sure what to do now that he'd achieved his objective.

Glenn solved part of the problem. He held out his hand for his jacket and told Joey, "You can dump the rest of the things on that chair."

Joey did as he'd been told, piling the clothes neatly on the chair with the boots carefully placed in front of it. Then he hung his own jacket on one of the hooks by the front door.

Hitman's Creed - 10

 

"This is a man who belongs on someone's hit list," Glenn muttered angrily as he read through the information he'd gathered. "No wonder the kid wants to stick around." He stared at the news report again, shaking his head.

 

Local man escapes after being arrested for attempted murder of girlfriend and abuse of the girlfriend's daughter. Steven Fairburn was stopped in the process of beating his erstwhile girlfriend when his wife returned home unexpectedly from an out-of-town visit with her parents. According to police reports Miriam Fairburn and her son walked into their home to find Mr. Fairburn with his son's baseball bat in one hand. A woman later determined to be the mother of his nine-year-old daughter lay on the floor with his foot holding her down. Mrs. Fairburn screamed for help while attempting to take the bat from her husband. A male neighbor heard her screams and came to the rescue. Between them they managed to subdue Mr. Fairburn then call the police. Mr. Fairburn escaped custody as he was being taken to court to be arraigned on charges of abusing a minor child and attempted murder.

 

Glenn had accessed the police reports. He found out that Mrs. Fairburn had had no idea that her husband had a mistress and another child. Joey had been fourteen at the time of the incident, old enough to understand what had happened. It might have ended there if Fairburn hadn't escaped. The police in the town where they’d lived had suggested that Mrs. Fairburn might be safer if she took her son and moved somewhere else. Obviously she'd taken their suggestion seriously. Glenn suspected they'd chosen this town because her brother lived here. Not a smart move if Fairburn really did want to pay her back for what had happened, but understandable on her part.

'I wonder if Fairburn has made contact with her or if Joey's just afraid that he might at some point in time.' He’d found no reports that Fairburn had been seen at any time since his escape, but that didn't mean anything. He was undoubtedly in hiding even after seven years but that didn't preclude his wanting to do something to his wife as payback for her part in his arrest.

Glenn lit a cigarette and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling as he wondered if there was anything he could do about the situation. Then he shook his head. 'Why the hell would I want to? It's not my damned business one way or the other. I'm sure the police here are well aware of the situation and are keeping an eye open for him, as is her brother.' With that thought in mind he closed the file he'd started, and went into the kitchen to fix supper.

Hitman's Creed - 9

 

"So," Joey's mother said as soon as he came through the door, "how did you end up there?"

"I told you when I called, I got lost."

"You don't get lost. You know this area like the back of your hand."

Joey looked at the back of his hand once he took off the borrowed jacket. "I never could figure what that saying meant. I don't know the back of my hand."

"Joey, answer the question," she said in mock exasperation.

"Okay. I really was lost for a while, or at least way off course. But I figured out where I was more or less and started back. Then, well, I was freezing my ass off and I thought I was close to his place and so…"

"You decided to take advantage of the situation and do a little snooping."

"Make friends with a neighbor," he replied with an innocent stare in her direction.

"He's hardly a neighbor, so you were snooping."

"I was getting out of the snow and cold!"

"Joey Fairburn, you were snooping. So what did you find out about the elusive Mr. Glenn whatever?"

"Nothing really," Joey admitted once he'd finished stuffing the borrowed socks into the borrowed boots. "He makes a mean pot roast, from the smell of it he smokes though he didn't while I was there, and his place is totally neat."

"A neat male; I didn't know they existed," she said with a laugh.

"Hey, my room's neat, mostly, usually."

"Sometimes." She glanced at the clock then nodded toward the stairs. "It's late so maybe you should get to bed now? Put everything in the hamper and I'll do a load of laundry in the morning so his sweats are clean when you take them back to him."

Joey was about to tell her that Glenn would pick them up… someday. He thought better of that. After all if his mother wanted him to return them then return them he would.

Hitman's Creed - 8

 

Glenn filed the last half of that away for the moment to ask, "What are you studying?"

"Criminal Justice. I hope to be a cop when I've finished, or on the way to being one."

"Really? Here or some big city?"

"That depends." Joey studied his empty plate. "Probably here if there's an opening when I'm ready, at least until I get my feet wet. The chief's a… well, a friend of the family so I have an in. Can I ask what you do that you can live out here and…? Okay, not my business, sorry."

"It's not, but I'll tell you anyhow," Glenn replied with a slight smile. "I inherited some money and decided to retire."

"From what?"

"Security work." This was at least the partial truth. Glenn figured since he had spent his life making certain that his clients were secure from the problems posed by the people they wanted out of the way, he could consider his work to be in the security field.

"So you were sort of a cop."

Glenn nodded. "Sort of, although the cops probably didn't look at it like that." He decided it was time to change the subject before Joey started to probe deeper. "Does your family own the coffeehouse?"

Joey nodded. "My mother does. She owns it and I work for her, or I guess with her, and for my uncle who has the garage down the street."

"So your family owns half the town," Glenn replied with a chuckle. "Does your father have a business here too?"

"My father's out of the picture," Joey said tightly.

Glenn felt the anger and something else that radiated from Joey's suddenly tense body and figured there was more to it than just the man having divorced Joey's mother. Especially considering that Joey had as much as said there was something keeping him here in the town, something that sounded like more than just love of family.

"That happens sometimes. Any brothers or sisters? Okay, now I'm being too nosy, I suspect. Next I'll be asking about your friends and acquaintances. I suppose that's a hangover from what I used to do."

Joey took a deep breath then chuckled. "It could be, and no, I'm an only child."

"That makes two of us. Have you had enough to eat?"

"More than, thank you." Joey stood and began to clear the table. When Glenn cocked an eyebrow, Joey explained, "Mom trained me well. She cooks, I clear and wash up."

"Then I'll just sit here and let you. When you're finished, I'll see if I can get the car down to the road and take you home."

Joey looked out the window over the sink. "It's stopped snowing finally so maybe, if your car's a tank."

"Not quite, but it's snow-worthy enough, I think, if I run the snow blower one more time first."

"I can do that if you want," Joey told him as he finished rinsing the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

"Are you always this eager to help people?"

"When they help me, sure. Is that so strange?"

"Sometimes it is, yeah. All right, you want to help, you can, but better get dressed more than you were when you got here." Glenn went into the mudroom. When he came back he handed Joey a thick jacket, boots and gloves. "You might need extra socks in the boots. Hang on."

When Glenn left, Joey went into the bathroom to see if his clothes were anywhere close to dry enough to wear, which they weren't. He heard Glenn come back into the kitchen and went to join him. "My stuff is still sopping wet."

"And that's a problem why?" Glenn gave him two pairs of thick socks. "You can return my stuff to me next time I come into town."

"The twelfth of never?" Joey said, chuckling.

Glenn smiled in amusement. "Maybe a bit sooner than that."

* * * *

Between them Glenn and Joey got the lane dug out enough that the car made it down to the narrow side road that led to the main one. It was rough going but Glenn was correct, his car was snow-worthy. By the time they made it to the road into town Joey was asleep, his head resting against the side window.

"Kids, no stamina," Glenn murmured to himself in amusement.

When they reached town, he shook Joey awake. "Where to from here?"

Joey looked a bit bemused until he got his bearings then told Glenn which way to go. When they got to his house, Joey thanked Glenn profusely for everything and promised he'd try to get his clothes back to him sooner than later.

"I told you I'd pick them up next time I'm in town," Glenn reminded him.

"Yeah, but…"

"It won't be that long. Now get inside before your mother wonders what's taking you so long."

Joey got out, bending to thank Glenn one more time before racing into the house.

'Nice kid,' Glenn thought as he drove off. 'It'd be interesting to find out what the deal is with his father.'

Hitman's Creed - 7

 

Joey did as he'd been told. When he came back Glenn chuckled in amusement. "Now you look like a kid in his big brother’s hand-me-downs." Although truth be told, there was something about seeing the handsome boy with Glenn’s sweats hanging from his hips that brought on a predatory urge. One that Glenn decided needed to be ignored.

Joey smiled ruefully. "Better than a snowman, and thanks for the clothes."

"Better than you catching pneumonia. What the hell were you doing out in this weather dressed the way you were?"

"It was barely snowing when I left the house. I was going for a run and, well…" Joey shrugged.

"All snowy hell broke loose. Gotcha. Maybe you should call your mother and let her know you're all right."

"Yeah. Let me…" Joey started toward the door to the kitchen.

"Here, use mine." Glenn took his cell from its holster and handed it to Joey. "You hungry?" When Joey nodded, Glenn went into the kitchen, as much to give Joey privacy to talk as to find something to fix for supper. He looked up from the stove a few minutes later when he heard the door open. "Was she glad to know you found a safe haven?"

"Oh yeah, big time. She was really worried."

"Big shock there. Sit down, this should be ready soon."

"Can I help?"

"Sure. Grab plates from the cupboard," Glenn pointed, "and get out silverware." He nodded to one of the drawers. "You getting warmed up?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Yes, thank you." Joey got everything and set the table. His stomach began growling from the aroma of whatever Glenn was making. "Smells good."

"It is." Glenn put the pan on the table. "Pot roast on the second day is always better than the first. Dig in."

Joey had to agree the food was good, even more than good. When he finished his first helping, he glanced at Glenn for permission to take more.

Glenn nodded that he could and smiled when Joey filled his plate again. "You're at the age when you're a bottomless pit, I think. What are you, nineteen, twenty maybe?"

"Twenty-one," Joey told him, trying not to huff.

"Ah, then you're legal."

"I was legal at sixteen," Joey replied with great seriousness.

Glenn laughed. "Hopefully your girlfriend was as well."

"Yeah, well," Joey looked at him, said, "Never had one of those… and why the hell did I just admit that?" He turned red with embarrassment.

"That's what happens if you're tired, the brain to mouth filter shuts down."

Joey snorted. "It'll do that sometimes even when I'm not tired."

Glenn decided to give him a break instead of teasing him more. "Are you in school, college or whatever?"

"I'm taking courses online. There's no college close enough to commute and I don't want to move away until… well, not yet."

Hitman's Creed - 6

 

Glenn watched the snow fall through the living room window and thanked his lucky stars he'd gotten new tires when he had. Not that he minded the idea of being snowed in but he had sense enough to understand he didn't know the area to the degree that he could make the trek into town on foot should an emergency arise.

Of course having a car which could make it on snow-covered side roads did no good if he couldn't drive along the lane to get to them. Therefore, even though the snow was still coming down heavily he decided it seemed logical to get out the snow blower and take a stab at clearing the first layer off the lane. At least that way if the snow kept up he'd have some idea where the hell it was come morning.

He dressed in layers, sweatshirt, sweater, and a thick coat, then added the boots and gloves he'd had the forethought to buy the last time he was in town, pulled on a ski mask he'd acquired many years ago, and trudged to the garage.

Half an hour later, he wondered if the effort had been worth it as he put away the snow-blower and stepped out of the garage. The lane was visible since there was less snow on it, but it already had at least an inch of the white stuff covering it again.

He let out a few choice words and grabbed the shovel when he realized the walkway to the back door was ankle-deep with snow. He got it cleared then went around the house to do that same for the front walk.

"Damned exercise in futility," he growled out loud when he finished. "Sometimes I wonder what the hell I use for brains."

"Hey," a voice called out from the trees several yards to the west of the house. "Is someone there?"

"Yeah," Glenn called back as he started in that direction. "Holy shit," he said seconds later when the kid from the coffeehouse came into view, covered in snow and obviously freezing from the look of him. "Not exactly dressed for the weather, are you?"

"No, sir," Joey agreed through chattering teeth.

"Come on. Let's get you inside where it's warm." Glenn nodded toward the house then waited for the kid to move. When he didn't, Glenn said tersely, "I don't bite, but if you want to stand out here and become more of a snowman than you already are, be my guest." Then he started toward the front porch.

"I… don't…"

"You don't what?" Glenn asked without stopping.

"Want to… impose…"

"For the love of all that's holy, you're freezing your ass off. Consider this a rescue mission of sorts and get in here." Glenn opened the front door and shot the kid a look of annoyance. "Now, before all the heat leaks out."

Joey hurried past him into the house. "Thank…you."

Glenn closed the door firmly behind them. "Yeah. Welcome. What's your name, kid?"

"Joey." He kept his arms wrapped around himself while he wondered if the man would be pissed if he went to stand in front of the fireplace to warm up.

"A name for the snowman. I'm Glenn. Get out of those clothes. You're dripping all over the floor."

"What?" Joey looked at him in shock.

"Oh hell." Glenn shook his head in amusement. "Not all of them, just the jacket, your shoes." As he spoke Glenn took his own coat and the rest of his outerwear off and hung them on the hooks by the front door with his boots underneath.

"Yes, sir." Joey toed off his shoes, took off his jacket and put it on a hook. "Could I…?" He nodded toward the fireplace.

Glenn eyed him and noted that his jeans were soaked up to the knees and the shoulders of his shirt were damp as well. "Yeah, go ahead." While Joey did, Glenn went upstairs. He returned a few moments later to hand the kid a set of sweats. "You'll swim in them. Go change." He pointed to a door off the living room. "Take a left and you'll find the restroom."

Hitman's Creed - 5

 

"I aced the exam, Mom," Joey said elatedly right after he'd raced into the living room.

She hugged him as she said, "Well I would hope so; you're smart enough when you put your mind to it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he replied in mock annoyance before he admitted, "Sometimes I slack off."

"As long as you're aware of it." She watched him grab his jacket, tempted to remind him to remember his hat and gloves as it was snowing lightly outside. She was a mother after all, even if at twenty-one he was more than old enough to make his own decisions about things like that. "Where are you off to?"

"I've been sitting too long so I'm going to walk, or run maybe to work it off." He checked his pockets then held up his gloves with a knowing grin that rated him a chuckle from his mother.

When he got outside, he tipped his head back to let the snow hit his face. Its cool touch felt good after being in a warm house for so long. Then he stretched, bent to touch his toes a couple of times, and took off down the short path from the house to the street. Since there were no sidewalks in their part of town he walked along the edge of the road, one ear cocked for the sound of traffic from behind him.

He didn't know exactly where he was headed, not that it mattered. He loved to walk and run just for the hell of it. It gave him the freedom to think and plan without interruption. He knew what he wanted to do with his life, he just didn't know where he wanted to do it, or how. The idea of leaving his mother to fend for herself while he moved to some large city across the state or the country worried him. Sure, her brother and his family lived and worked in town but that wasn't the same as his being there if anything should happen.

Joey sped up, his walk turning into a run as he turned off the street onto a well-worn riding trail that weaved away from the town into the lightly forested area to the north. The trees kept the worst of the thickening snow from making the path treacherous but it was still no picnic to race along. At least with the weather worsening, he figured no one would be out on a horse so he stayed in the center where it was smoother.

Twenty minutes later a quick check of the time, plus the fact that the snow had really begun to come down very hard, made him decide to turn around and head home. He wished as he did that he'd been smart enough to stick his hat in his pocket. With one gloved hand he brushed the snow out of his hair while muttering about lousy weathermen who hadn't predicted this.

The snow that accumulated on the trail made it virtually invisible now so he was glad he knew it like the back of his hand. If he hadn't he wouldn't have known which twists and turns to take. As it was there came a time when he started to wonder if he'd made a wrong one somewhere. He paused to look around while he pulled his jacket tighter around him. Not that it did much to warm him.

He tried to get his bearings and muttered, "Damn it." One thing he knew for certain once he thought about it, he had definitely gone diagonal to the town because the waning sun, as it began to drop below the horizon, sent his pale shadow out in front of him. That meant he had been heading east, not south. Making a quarter turn, he set off again.

Hitman's Creed – 4

 

A year ago, in another anonymous hotel in another city, Glenn stared out of the window of his fourth-floor room. The money from the last hit sat in one of his bank accounts where it would probably stay, untouched. After all what did he have to spend it on? It wasn't as if he had a home somewhere, and his clothes were all geared to what was needed for the jobs. His only real expenses were the tools of his trade, which could cost a small fortune but that was just part of the game and what made him one of the best.

The adrenaline rush and euphoria from the kill were long gone and he was restless. Not so restless that he'd go find himself a playmate for the night, but too much so to just sit there. Perhaps that was what he needed, a long walk along the shoreline.

He put the thought into motion as he donned his warm jacket to protect him from the damp chill in the air and started to leave his room. After a moment's hesitation he went back, got his Gerber Mark II and attached it, in its sheath, to his belt at the small of his back. Now he was ready.

The sun was just setting when he reached the lake. Hands in his pockets he strolled along the rocky shoreline. Cars passed on the highway a few yards to the right of him, the sound of their tires on the pavement making white noise that was surprisingly calming as it blended with the soft pound of the lake's water against the rocks.

'This I should do more often,' he thought, 'or perhaps not.' he added, a flash of pain crossing his face. His mind went back to another lake in another country and he remembered the 'accident' that had ended his parents' lives. That was the beginning of his life as it was now.

He had been eighteen when they'd died in a horrific explosion that had annihilated them and their boat. At first the police believed it had been an accident but they changed their minds when it came out that certain of his father's associates had put out a hit on him. When Glenn learned about it he'd made it his mission to find his parents' killers. He had approached a man he knew was trustworthy, one of his father's business partners, and told him what he needed to do.

The man had tried his hardest to dissuade him, but in the end realized that would not happen and so put him in contact with another man who would train him in the fine art of how to kill and get away with it. Within two years Glenn had learned everything the man could teach him. Six months later the two men responsible for his parents' murder were dead as was the man who had hired them.

The rest, as the saying goes, was history. Now, fourteen years later, Glenn was looked upon by those who knew what he did as the hitman to go to when the job had to be done quickly and efficiently. He had the unique ability to easily see the ins and outs of each job, avoid all pitfalls, and get the kill done rapidly with nothing that would point a finger at the people who hired him. His work was well known by all the law enforcement agencies around the world, but his face, his name, and his whereabouts were not. Only one person knew who he was. Him. Even his few contacts, the men who were intermediaries between him and the person who was hiring him, had no idea how to find him unless he was on a job for them.

Contact was by email, through an account so well protected even the best hacker couldn't access it. His intermediaries used it to let him know there was a job, he would send back a phone number where he could be reached, and things were set up from there. The only weakness in the system, he knew, was that at some point one of them might decide to sell him out. But that was life. He had to trust someone and he had picked them very carefully.

Glenn looked around and realized he had walked much further than he'd planned to. The shoreline was smoother than before, the rocks few and far between but larger. He picked one that looked as if it would be semi-comfortable and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees.

It struck him with unexpected force that he had some decisions to make.

That he liked what he did was to some extent a given, otherwise he would have stopped after the first, revenge-laden kills. However, recently, he felt that something was missing in his life. Something that made him wonder if he’d actually made the right choice once his parents' deaths had been avenged. There was a challenge to what he had spent the last fourteen years doing. It was like a complicated jigsaw puzzle and if all the pieces for each job didn't fit perfectly then he lost. He'd never lost.

But in not losing, he had begun to realize he had lost. He’d lost his life while taking the lives of others. Not literally. He was physically alive; he ate, he slept, he… existed. Therein lay the problem, as all he did was exist. He was thirty-four and had nothing to show for his life except money in the bank.

He slid off the rock and used it as a backrest while he lit a cigarette then stared up at the starlit sky. The lights of an airplane went by and he wondered where it was headed. Undoubtedly wherever it was going was somewhere where he had been, where he had spent a day, a week, a month in some anonymous hotel. The days of his life were written in hotel ledgers.

From the moment his parents were murdered, he hadn't had a normal life. Not in the way normal was considered by most people. He had no friends. He had momentary relationships, for lack of a better word, with whatever female or male caught his fancy when his libido required he find sexual release. But he had no one who cared about him come morning. No one who cared for him, to say the least of someone who could or would love him the way his parents had loved each other.

And that was how he’d wanted it at first. No ties. No one to betray him. What he did fed his need for recognition, albeit a very strange sort of recognition. He was famous, infamous, and for years that had been enough.

Now…? Now he was uncertain if it had been worth it. No, not uncertain anymore. He realized that it had not been worth it, not in the long run. He wanted out.

The question was could he get out?

He didn't know, but he knew he was going to try.

Hitman's Creed - 3

 

"Your mysterious stranger is back," Joey's mother said. When he asked where, with feigned indifference, she pointed across the street to the hardware store.

He leaned on the counter as he watched the man and one of the clerks load cans of paint into the trunk of his car. It had been three weeks, give or take, since he'd first seen the mysterious stranger and, truth be told, he really hadn't expected to again.

"Must be doing some redecorating," his mother commented. "God only knows that house needs it from what I remember."

Joey shrugged one shoulder. "Should keep him busy."

As his mother finished wiping down the last table she frowned to herself. She knew her son well. When he pretended not to care about something it usually meant he was more interested than not. In this case it could be a problem. The man they'd been watching was apparently very reclusive which in her book meant he probably had something to hide. A man of his age, which she guesstimated was mid-thirties, didn't bury himself in the backwoods of nowhere without a good reason, or a bad one. If Joey started to pry… She sighed. 'Leave it be and maybe he'll find something else to pique his interest.' Aloud she asked, "When is your next exam?"

"Tomorrow."

"Then you'd best get on home and study."

"Yes, Mom." Joey smiled at her. "Planning on it as soon as we close."

"Go now. It's not like we're going to have any more business in the next twenty minutes."

Joey didn't need telling twice. He whipped off his apron, grabbed his jacket from behind the kitchen door, and beat it out the back door before she changed her mind.

Almost to the second, as the back door closed the front door opened and the man they'd been talking about walked in.

"Can I get a large black coffee to go?" Glenn asked.

"Absolutely." While she poured it, Joey's mother said, "I'm Miriam Fairburn. Would I be considered nosy if I asked your name?"

Glenn smiled slightly. "Yes, but I'll tell you anyway, it's Glenn. And before you ask, I moved here a few weeks ago."

"Now that I knew," she admitted as she handed him his coffee. "My brother mentioned it. The old Williams place just outside of town."

Glenn cocked an eyebrow. "Meaning the man who runs the garage I'd say, as he's the only one I mentioned it to. I'm surprised he didn't tell you my name too."

"I didn't ask, he didn't tell." She took his money and gave him his change. "My son's the inquisitive one. Takes after his…" her mouth tightened momentarily, "father in that respect. Well it's nice to meet you and I hope you come back again."

"If and when I come to town, I might." That said Glenn nodded his thanks and left.

"Definitely has something to hide," she said under her breath.

If Glenn had been able to read minds he would have agreed with Mrs. Fairburn, he did have much to hide.

Hitman's Creed - 2

 

Glenn turned off the main road onto a narrow one that wandered willy-nilly toward the low hills in the distance. Two miles farther on, he made another turn into the lane that lead to his house. Every time he thought my house, he couldn't help the small smile that lit his usually serious face.

It had taken him almost a year to find this place after he'd decided to pull a vanishing act to get away from his life as he'd known it. Most of that time was spent erasing his tracks so that none of his former associates could find him. Not that there were that many to erase. He had lived for so long under radar that there was no real information about him per se, just as there was none about the anonymous hitman he had been. Nothing anyway that could have connected the hitman to himself. If there had been, he'd have been sitting in a federal penitentiary.

His new identity was in truth his original one with a few alterations, thus his birth certificate and social security number were totally legitimate. He had however used the one contact he absolutely trusted, the woman who had set up his email account, to go in and alter enough information in the government files so the Glenn Tanner he was now could not be associated with the Glenn Tanner he had been before his parents died. With literally hundreds of men with his name around the world, it would take an extremely dedicated enemy to pin it down to the man who now owned this house in a small town somewhere between New York City and Los Angeles.

The sun was low on the horizon as he pulled into the garage behind the house. There was a nip in the air that presaged the coming winter and he shivered a bit as he walked to the back door and into a small mudroom. After he'd hung his jacket on one of the pegs along the wall he went into the kitchen. It was old, with white-washed walls and dark wood trim, much like the rest of the rooms in the house. He knew some day in the future he'd probably redecorate but, at the moment, just knowing the place was his made him love every inch of it, flaws and all.

He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, walked into the living room, turned on the television and sat down to watch the news. He cracked a tight smile when the talking head reported on the death of a noted businessman eight-hundred miles across the country from where he was now. He'd been offered the job to take the man out six months ago, before he'd made the final break with his last contact. Apparently the need to get it done ASAP lost its urgency or his contact had a difficult time finding someone willing to do it. Considering who the target had been the latter was very possible.

With the news over, Glenn flipped off the TV and went to fix some supper. When he finished he returned to the living room, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. He put the glass down on the table beside his favorite chair, picked up the book that sat there, and settled down to read.