A/N: This is an old story idea of mine. I thought I'd share it with you and see whether I should continue writing it. Please let me know what you think about it!
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters involved. All rights to CBS.
November 10th
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"Um...", Jamie started, then thought the better of it. His brother had that annoyed look about him, the one that told Jamie nothing he said would be taken seriously. To Danny he was still a child, no matter how much he tried to prove himself, how much he achieved.
"Kid?"
"Never mind. Sorry." As he turned to leave, Jamie saw a dark shadow rounding the corner. His eyes narrowed and he quickened his pace, not bothering to say goodbye to Danny, who was staring at him in bewilderment.
"Jamie? What are you looking for?"
"Nothing. Really, it's fine. It can wait 'till Sunday." Although Jamie had reached the glass doors at the entrance to the office, there was no sight of his stalker. In fact, the hall was empty. Had he been imagining things? He tensed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"Come on, spill it. Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" Danny had also gotten up, looking at the entrance and of course seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Jamie shrugged his brother's hand off his shoulder.
"It was nothing. I thought I saw Jackie", he answered, knowing Danny's partner was on vacation and the lie therefore easy to spot. Relieved, he noticed that Danny had lost interest now that there was no threat, instead muttering something like "Whatever" and going back to the open file on his desk. He didn't even look up when his younger brother left, which Jamie was thankful for.
He exited and ran to his car, hard rain pouring down on him all the while. If he'd taken the time to look around, he might have noticed a man standing in the parking lot for no apparent reason. Might have seen the person that got out his phone as soon as Jamie's car had left and called his boss. They had quite a peculiar conversation, or so it would have seemed.
"He's gone."
"Alone?"
"Yes, just like you predicted. He'll reach the spot in less than three minutes."
"Perfect!" While the man in the parking lot spoke with the emotionless voice reserved for business, his current employer was practically singing, awaiting a fatal mistake, shaking with glee. The man in the parking lot didn't bat an eye. He knew exactly what a risk he'd taken by accepting the job with the commissioner's kid, but the money was worth it. Speaking of money...
"When will I get the second half of my payment?"
"As soon as he's down."
"When will that be?" The man on the phone waited while cold drops of water slid down his neck beneath the jacket. His boss was doubtlessly checking one of his countless camera's, waiting for a planned disaster. A few seconds silence reigned in and the scout was just about to lose patience when a loud shot could be heard through the phone. Screeching tires and a sickening crunching sound followed, metal hitting something equally hard with a lot of force. Then breathless laughter rang out.
"It's done! He did it! You'll get the missing amount right now."
"Pleasure doing business with you", the man in the parking lot said, hung up and pulled his hat further down, wondering whether he'd just helped end a life but not really caring. In fact, the gunshot had been like music in his ears, especially the fact that it had been a single sound filled him with pride. It was his best friend at the trigger, after all. Bobby, the old gangster who never missed.
"Robert?"
"Just Bobby", the man lying in the dirt on a hill answered, suppressing a groan. His old legs wouldn't support him like they used to do, but his curiosity made him stand up from his position to get a good look at the trashed car. The wreck was clinging to a tree, the side dented strangely. From up above it almost looked like an accordion, Bobby thought, again congratulating himself on his awesome shot.
"Get down there and help", his boss ordered mercilessly, a bright smile plastered across his face. He was the type of person Bobby wouldn't have taken advice from, all feverish behavior and emotional outbursts. However, he'd been planning the attack on the guy in the car for a long time, had impeccable timing and a safe plan. The road was lonely enough to reduce any chance of witnesses to zero and the young man in the car had never seen his end coming. One shot, one faultless shot was all it had taken. Bobby hobbled down the steep road, watching while a limp body was dragged through the broken window.
"Is he dead?", he asked with interest, thinking he saw a lot of bright red blood. The figures had crouched above the man, so he was startled when they broke apart in unison, one of them holding a split lip and cursing rudely. Bobby laughed quietly, leaning against a tree trunk to watch the chaos unfold as the not-so-unconcious-now victim dealt out a few more punches before he was violently subdued. Amateurs, he thought with a wry grin, assuming a car crash would simply render a target immobile. The tough ones always fought, but it still took guts to try what the young man had, pretending and then striking out at his first chance. Pity it hadn't done the persistent son of a bitch any good.
"He dead now?", Bobby inquired, looking at the blood inside the car and on the forehead of the blond man. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, recognizing serious cuts and blood loss. Impressive that the target had even managed to get up with injuries like that.
"What a shame you died, you kind of reminded me of myself. Might have made a good apprentice", he murmured, stepping back and letting the idiots take care of the rest. Soon, the smell of gasoline wafted through the air, then flames flared up and the biting stench of smoldering plastic and rubber signaled the job was all but done. One of them would have to stay behind while the fire raged and boy was Bobby glad he hadn't drawn the short straw. Burning human flesh always made his stomach queasy.
He didn't know that the grumpy Russian that took the watch actually had an eventful evening, though. An hour after the others had left - most of the flames had died down and the sky was beginning to darken by then - a single car appeared at the base of the hill. Carefully, the man evaded detection, hiding in the darkness between the nearby trees.
"Come on, man. You don't want to be the one to find this mess", the Russian said, a look of sympathy on his face. His mother often told him "Isaac, your heart is too soft to be a mercenary", yet he was very successful and had never learned a different trade. The unlucky driver of the car saw the smoke and slowed down, halting and turning on the warning lights on his vehicle. It was a middle-aged man that exited, brown hair, not very tall but quite muscular. The way he moved towards the accident site showed some sort of professionalism. A firefighter, perhaps? A cop? Military?
"Nope. At least not on duty", the Russian observed as the guy abandoned all care and slid down into the ditch, getting close to the heat in the process. Was that guy crazy or something? Involuntarily, the Russian took a step forward, catching himself at the movement and pulling further back as curses were heard from the dent. He could only make out the words "goddamn body", "vacation", "weekend" and "Linda", which probably meant that the man had discovered the burned body in the front seat. It also proved the cop-theory to be true, because normally people freaked out a lot more. Smiling halfheartedly, the Russian leaned to the side to get a better look at the following actions the cop took, mildly satisfied that it wasn't a child or an old lady who'd found the car. Cops were far more in control, the Russian thought, only to be shocked when the brown haired man froze, one of his arms reaching for his phone.
"What are you doing?", the criminal asked silently as the cop's face lost all color as his lips were muttering something over and over. Too quiet to be heard where the Russian stood. Now his hands were shaking and the mobile phone dropped to the floor, but the cop didn't seem to care. His brows were furrowed, his jaw set so hard the watcher feared something might break.
"Move. Call the police. What's wrong with you?" His eyes followed the cop make uncertain, slow steps back towards the ditch and the last wisps of smoke. When the man stopped next to the plate on the back and began to wipe away the black grime, the Russian held his breath in anticipation. Still he ducked behind the treeline when a piercing scream echoed through the emptiness.
"Jamie! No! Jamie!" Wincing, the Russian turned around again and saw the utter shock on the cop's face. Tears, real tears were streaming down a face that should have been used to similar situations and suddenly the criminal understood. This wasn't just anybody's car for the cop, he'd known the target personally.
"Damn, sucks to be you tonight", he said gravely and watched the man fall to his knees on the dirty tarmac of the road. Another wordless scream was let loose, anger, sorrow and endless sadness combined in an emotion most people called loss.
"So that's what it looks like when a man is broken." The Russian averted his eyes and slowly retreated into the woods, granting the man some space to grieve in private. He didn't care whether his task had been to stay to the very end, sometimes a man had to do what a man had to do. Not that he cared much about honor or the cop in particular, yet he couldn't shake the peculiar feeling that the issue was far from over. It was the way the cop had acted, the uncontrolled rage in his second cry... the Russian shuddered. He did not want to be the one to be on the receiving end of that fury.