James Black admired the view his rear deck from the hills. Los Angeles was always beautiful when the night came, as the sun rested to the west and the moon rose from the east. The city of lights that blanketed the landscape was as mesmerizing as the night sky above, with its own set of stars speckled against the dark.
James Black drank from his mug containing a mix of decaf and Johnny Walker. He was already at the age of not giving a damn about his health. After all, he was retired. Black gave his career a quick rundown, even since his agents – Jodie Starling, Andre Camel, and Shuichi Akai collaborated with Shinichi Kudo and Shiho Miyano, along with Japan's Public Security Bureau and the US CIA, in an effort to take down the Black Organization. After finally dismantling the syndicate, brick by brick, agent by agent, the arrests made everyone involved into near stardom. Black earned his promotion from Special Agent in Charge to Director. With that, he then resided in Los Angeles, manning the operations of the city field office in Westwood. Akai replaced Black as SAC, while Starling and Camel were promoted to Assistant Special Agents in Charge – ASAC. Since then, the four of them have garnered national attention – both public and within the law enforcement community – making them the stuff of legend.
Then finally, when all is said and done, at the age of 60, Black retired from the Bureau and took up a nice little house up on Woodrow Wilson. Hence, the view of nighttime LA. His mind wandered back to Cool Kid Kudo. No doubt he became legend after the fall of the Black Organization, and no doubt he grew wiser and became mindful of what he values in life. After so many close calls with the syndicate and so many close calls against his then-girlfriend and current wife Ran Mouri, Kudo tried to keep himself anonymous from the public eye whenever he solves a high-profile case. Shinichi wanted to live his life with Ran, and so he did. Last time James checked, the couple had a kid – a beautiful daughter they called Izumi.
Out from his lips, Black raised his mug at the couple from his little house in Los Angeles before he headed back inside. When he entered his living room, he turned on a lamp next to a couch, lighting up the coffee table in front of it. Black sat down, left his mug on the table, and gazed the contents of the files scattered across the wooden table. Files he had copied and stored before he left the Bureau. Ancient copies that are now relevant, ever since Akai took on a case involving a murder of a FBI counterterrorism agent. Black hoped that his copies of the files he gave to Akai in person yesterday would prove useful to his investigation. If all else fails, Akai has his ace in the hole back West.
The retired director didn't notice the man creeping up behind him. That is, until he heard the hammer cocking behind his head. Black remained still.
"Mr. Black, we've finally meet."
"Likewise."
The assassin glances at the files on the coffee table. "Did you give it to him already?"
"You and I both know that I did." Black slowly made his hand towards his mug.
The assassin clicked his teeth. "Uh-uh."
"Just a drink, please." Once Black took his sip from his spiked coffee, he continued the conversation. "You won't get away with this. Akai and that Cool Kid will take you down."
"Maybe, Mr. Black. But I've got plans in store for them. My brother taught me to cover all the bases."
Black continued to sip on his coffee.
"You're lucky your family are out on a night on the town. Makes this less messy and less complicated. And I don't like killing folks who are just mere observers."
"I appreciate the thought." Black took a glance at his coffee and stared at his reflection from the black liquid. He was old enough, he thought. He could try to fight, but he was unarmed. He could try to make for the gun under his couch but considering the fact that the assassin may have broken in earlier and unloaded the gun, besides the fact that there's a pistol pointed at him dead center, he knew the end of the game was near. His part, at least.
Black raised his mug. "Here's to the game, for the game's sake." He sipped the rest of his drink. He had two regrets: one - he wished he could say goodbye to his wife and kids; two – he wished he could have used the Old Forester bourbon he left at his liquor cabinet with his coffee.
"I guess I'll root for my team up there."
"I'm sure of that, Mr. Black."
Black closed his eyes. And in a snap, oblivion.
The silencer lessened the gunshot, and since the kill took place inside, the assassin wouldn't worry of any noise passing through to the neighbors outside. He took the files from the table, not minding the blood spatter that gotten on the files. Before he left the property completely, the assassin went down the hill, heading towards under the house desk. His arson kit was basic – kerosene and a box of matches, but he bet that the underbrush would catch fire. His bet was on the fire becoming a brush fire, giving him time to stop any arson investigation for a while. A raging fire in California meant more time taking care of the flame, and not studying on why the flame started.
The assassin managed to run back to his car while the small conflagration licked at the dry brush and the underside of Black's house desk. By the time he got down the mountains to Hollywood, the house was on fire on the hillside, like a bright star in the night sky.