Hitman
Chapter 1
Derek Winslow stared out into the dark street from the driver's seat of his undercover squad car. The clock read 1:57 and the caffeine from his last coffee was wearing off. The only thing keeping him awake was the streetlight shining a few feet above the car parked in front of him on the side of the street.
Derek is a detective whose specialty is catching hitmen. He was well known for his capture of Vladimir Kleminsky, who was responsible for over 85 deaths in Moscow. No other detective could figure out anything about him. Derek found a pattern in some of Vladimir's kills and learned to track him. It took him 4 years before he finally caught him. Many consider Derek the best in his profession.
But this one man he was tracking had a much thicker record than any Russian assassins he had ever come across. He estimated this man was responsible for over 120 deaths. The thing was this guy never targeted anyone low key. He aimed for movie stars, billionaires, politicians; the stuff that makes front pages.
The overhead light in the car came on as the passenger side door opened. Derek looked straight ahead as if he didn't notice. He heard his partner, Mark, place the coffee he went to go fetch on the roof of the car. Mark felt around in his pocket for something but Derek didn't bother to look.
"Jesus, Mark could you close the door its cold as hell out there," yelled Derek.
"Just a sec..." Mark answered.
Derek looked back into the streets, still no sign of the target.
"Okay," Mark said as he lowered himself into his seat, "Black for you."
He handed Derek his coffee and shut the door.
"For me; way too much cream and way too much sugar," Mark said.
"What were you doing up there," asked Derek in an angry tone, pointing towards the roof of the car.
"I was mixing my coffee," Mark answered.
There was a slight pause.
"You couldn't do that in the car?"
"...and get coffee on this leather? I would rather not take that chance."
"So the hood is fine then?"
"Do you always have to find something wrong with everything I do," Mark complained.
Derek rolled his eyes back to the street.
"Well if you didn't mess things up so much I wouldn't have to watch you so closely," said Derek.
"Mess up? What did I mess up?"
"For one, my coffee is a little colder because of that move," said Derek.
Derek felt Marks eyes move to him.
"I know your fucking with me right now," Mark said.
"Who knows," said Derek in a smart ass kind of way.
He heard Mark sigh and look back to the streets. Derek loved messing with new guys. He loved messing with anyone in general as a matter of fact.
Mark has been in the force for about a year and a half. A year and a half wasn't considered a rookie but he was the youngest man working there, at 21. Mark wanted to go into the same branch Derek was in, so the chief thought it was a good idea to send him off with the best; Derek Winslow.
"Could you stop slurping? I'm trying to enjoy my coffee," said Derek.
"Oh my God, are you serious right now?"
"Dead serious," Derek answered.
"I don't see how you can enjoy that piss anyway," said Mark as he took a sip of his coffee. "It tastes like ass," he added.
"Yeah, you would know what ass tastes like," said Derek.
"Smartass," was all Mark could come up with.
Derek saw the door on the left hand side of the street open up. A man walked out into the streets. He looked around for a bit and started down the side walk away from the two men's car.
"Is that him," Mark asked.
"I think so," Derek answered.
The man was wearing a black suit, carrying a brief case, and had no hair. That was exactly what they were looking for.
Derek opened his car door once the man passed around the corner of the building. He got onto the street and closed his door. He saw Mark get out and chug the rest of his coffee. Derek gave him a look as he put on his coat, but Mark never gave him eye contact.
Both of them started down the sidewalk towards the direction the man walked. Derek checked his 9mm and told Mark to do the same. Both of them were ready to go.
Derek got to the corner first. He stuck his head around the corner and saw the man about 50 yards away. He saw the man look over his shoulder and look foreword again.
"I need you on the other side of the street. Stay behind the parallel parked cars," ordered Derek.
Mark upholstered his gun, crouched and started to jog across the street.
"Hey," Derek whispered loudly.
Mark looked back.
"Be as quiet as possible," Derek said.
The young detective nodded and silently ran to the bumper of the car across the street of him. Derek crouched and ran to the back bumper of the car closest to him.
He waved Mark to move foreword. Mark nodded and began his approach. Derek moved from car to car watching the man the whole time. He could hear Mark a little but not enough to draw attention from this far out.
Wait a minute! The man stopped moving. He was just standing there. Mark was looking at him, too. The two detective's eyes met. Derek raised his weapon to the man who was about 30 yards away.
The man placed his suitcase on the ground, and appeared to be fixing his tie. Derek waved at Mark and pointed to the man. He pressed his pointer finger on his lips. Mark knew that meant to cover him.
Derek leaned to the side of the car he was behind and started to walk slowly towards the man. Mark stood up and pointed his 9mm at the man's head.
Derek drew closer to the man, but he could barely see him because there were no street lights down this road. The only light was the moon, which was pretty bright at this time. The moon was on the other side of the building causing the entire street to be in shadows. He felt his heart beat faster as he got closer. He saw a bar code on the back of the man's neck and knew this was his man.
The man all of a sudden stopped messing with his tie. Derek stopped in his tracks. The man was about ten yards away now. The man started to turn towards Derek. Derek froze and gulped. Their eyes meet.
This didn't look like the man he was looking for. His face was different. It was old. He had a black suit, red tie, black gloves, barcode tattoo and everything.
"I'm not who you are looking for," the man said.
There was a pause. Derek didn't detect this man as a threat so he stood up and partially lowered his weapon.
"Do you know who I am looking for," asked Derek nervously.
"He doesn't have a name. He doesn't even exist," the man said.
Derek continued to look at the man.
"I was once like him," the man said.
"What do you mean," asked Derek slowly?
"Once one of us gets to a certain age we are no longer useful. Therefore the rest of the agents hunt down the old one. It just doesn't seem right to just...execute one of our own," the man explained, "They at least get to fight."
"Agents," Derek asked?
"I have reached my peak in this life," the man said.
Derek didn't like those words so he raised his gun.
The man reacted fast and pulled out one of his own and pointed it at the detective's head.
The man had a custom made pistol with a silencer. The detective got a front row view of it. Before Mark could fire the man pulled another gun from his holster and pointed it at Mark and fired a shot. The bullet hit Mark in the shoulder.
Derek glanced over at Mark as he fell to the ground.
"I will not die by your hands, though," the man whispered.
"I'm not going to hurt you," detective Winslow assured him.
"Are you sure, detective?" asked the man.
Derek looked the man in the eye. He thought to himself that this guy knew what he is doing.
"Can you give me some kind of identification," the detective asked.
The man leaned his head a little as he looked at Derek. He started to walk backwards towards the corner of the building.
"Come on! Just a name or something," Derek yelled.
"How about a number," the man asked as he continued to walk backwards? Derek took one step foreword for every step backward the man took.
"What," asked Derek with a confused look on his face?
The man was almost to the end of the shadow the building was making off the moon.
"My number," said the man.
"Phone number?" asked the detective.
"My number..."
The agent was now on the corner of the sidewalk and out of the shadow the building made from the moon.
"My number is...nine," he said.
Derek looked at the man as if he waited on him to say more. He didn't say anything more. He just continued to look at him with a gun pointed towards the detectives face. The other gun was in his hand down by his side.
The man lowered his weapon, closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards. Derek was really confused now.
All of a sudden the man's head jerked to the side and blood spurted on Derek's face and shirt. The man fell down on the pavement with his eyes wide open.
Derek stared in horror at the man now leaking blood from his head. He swiftly moved to the corner of the building and looked around it.
There was nothing there. Wait! He saw a window open on the building at the end of the street. He started to walk around the corner until he heard a thud and a piece of the wall beside him turned to dust and rubble.
The detective quickly went back around the corner as fast as he could. He was breathing very hard. He looked at the body by his feet. The detective grabbed the man's foot and dragged him behind the building. He searched the man for some sort of ID. There was no wallet or anything.
The briefcase! He decided he didn't want to stick around so he grabbed the briefcase and ran over to Mark. Mark was on the ground with agony on his face. Derek grabbed him from his good shoulder and pulled him along. As Derek passed around the corner to his car her looked back to see another man in the same attire standing in the moonlight, looking down at the body of the old man. The man then looked over to Derek and just watched him until he was around the corner.
When they were both in the car Derek drove off fast and called the station to report what had just happened.
