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.

Hitman's Creed - 1

 

"New in town?"

Glenn looked up into a pair of startling blue eyes and nodded before he returned to the book he was reading.

"I didn't think I'd seen you around before. I'd have remembered you if I had."

Glenn nodded again, this time without as much as a glance in the speaker's direction.

"All right, I get the hint. Sorry."

He heard footsteps as the young man walked away and shook his head, slightly amused at his persistence, then picked up his coffee, took a sip, and continued to read.

The kid had a point though. As small as the town was, chances were the kid knew everyone who belonged here.

Everyone but Glenn, but that wasn't too surprising. Glenn made it a point not to come to town any more than was absolutely necessary since he’d moved into an old house a few miles outside the town limits. The only reason he was in the small coffeehouse right now was the fact that his car needed new tires before winter arrived. He could have waited at the garage but the noise and the small, grubby waiting area had been enough to drive him away. So he had walked half a block down, book tucked under his arm, found the coffeehouse, and decided it would do as a place to kill the time until his car was ready.

The kid worked behind the counter, doling out coffee and sandwiches. Since Glenn was a purist who liked his coffee plain and black, it had taken only a few seconds to get and pay for it. Then he found a table at the back of the room and settled in. He was surprised and just a bit annoyed when the kid, who appeared to be barely out of his teens, tried to strike up a conversation. Thus he ignored him. Nice eye candy but Glenn wasn’t what you would call the chatty type, especially with some kid.

He finished his coffee, checked the time, and got up. When he reached the door the kid called out, "Come back again."

Glenn nodded once as he pushed the door open and stepped onto the sidewalk. Under his breath he muttered, "Not likely."

* * * *

Joey Fairburn watched the man walk out of the coffeehouse and shook his head. Wasn't it a law of some kind that in a small town everyone was supposed to be friendly? Well he'd done his best and been rebuffed.

"You can't win them all," his mother said as she came out of the tiny kitchen.

"But I can try," he replied with a laugh.

"It could be he's just visiting, or passing through."

"I don't think so. When I asked if he was new in town, he nodded."

Miriam Fairburn chuckled. "Perhaps he wasn't paying attention to what you'd said, and just nodded to let you know he was aware that you were standing there."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Mother's always are," she told him with a laugh. "Ten minutes 'til closing so we might as well get this place cleaned up. Are you helping Harv this evening?"

"Yeah. He's got some engine he's overhauling and he wants me to watch the garage so he can concentrate without interruptions."

She shook her head in amusement. "Knowing my brother he wouldn't notice if anyone did try to interrupt him," she replied.

That proved to be true, Joey found out, when he arrived at the garage. His uncle came close to banging his head on the open hood of the car when Joey tapped his shoulder to let him know he was there.

"Damn boy, you scared the bejesus out of me," Harv growled as he wiped his grease stained hands on his coveralls. "Probably going to be a slow evening so get your books out and study."

"I was planning on it, boss man." Joey pointed to his backpack on the counter, which was barely visible through the door to the waiting area.

"Better have been. Your Mom expects you to graduate with honors."

"Honors from an online college? I guess that's possible."

"You'll do it just to make her happy," Harv replied with a smile.

"Sure going to try."

Joey went back to the waiting area then, since he knew his uncle wanted to get back to the work he loved. As he opened his backpack his uncle called out, "Had a new customer today by the way."

"Oh? Who?"

"Name of, hmm, Glenn something. Paid with cash. Guess from what he said he bought the old Williams house just outside of town. Needed new tires 'cause his old ones were too worn to be good in the snow come winter."

"Tall, dark hair with some gray in it and a mustache?"

"Yup, that'd be him. He stop by the coffeehouse?"

"Yes. Not very friendly but…" Joey shrugged as he took the book he needed from his pack and smiled to himself. Now he had a name to go with the face. Not that he cared particularly but he did like knowing who was who in town. A trait he'd picked up from his father before he'd… Joey shook his head to dispel the memory.