Disclaimer: I don't own Starling, Lecter, etc. You know this. But now the question arises: why are you still reading this? The story's down there.

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The Night of the Jackal

Ch1: Chacal

Day 5 Surveilance, 1900 Hours.

Couple seen leaving residence. Wearing formal attire- assumed to be heading to an expensive restaurant. Expected time of absence- 4 hours.

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When he had finished writing in the log, he slapped the notebook shut and lay back. He was in the bed of a truck, crammed there under the camper shell where he would have some protection from the elements. In this way too, he would preserve the targets' belief in the uncompromised safety of their residence here. The dossiers on Lecter and Starling (if she wasn't a Mrs. Lecter by now) said that both would be extremely aware of ambushes, so it had become necessary to change his location every day to ensure his own anonymity. This was the last time he would need to do so, however. Five days to learn their habits and routines. Morning- Starling woke up first, went for a jog which usually lasted an hour or so, Lecter awake and moving around as soon as the door closed (their observer had seen them through windows). When Starling returned, they ate breakfast, usually stayed in the house a few more hours, and then left together for various locations. He had followed them a few times, mostly on a motorcycle to avoid being noticed and/or recognized, and observed them usually shopping or at a museum, art gallery, etc.

Later that afternoon they returned home and stayed put for another few hours, and then went out for dinner. Always out for dinner. Dinners usually lasted 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 hours (making it safe to say 4 hours expected), until they returned to... enjoy each other's company without the public, and then to sleep. Generally the same routine the next day.

There had been few pictures. At night, there had been none. Far too risky to use a flash, and without the flash it would be too dark for the camera to pick up their forms. In the daylight, only pictures from a distance. Cameras too, he believed, would attract their attention, and that was something he did not want. Not yet anyway. He sighed. It was time to work.

He opened up the back of the truck and slid out, looking around for witnesses. After a quick glance at the windows of every house nearby he determined there were none. He walked slowly to the cab of the truck and opened the door on the driver's side, and climbed in. Once there, he reached into the glove box and retrieved the twin .45s and checked the magazines to make sure they were full. They were, and he slid them into their holsters- one in the jacket and the other on his hip. He liked to imagine himself a gunslinger sometimes, ridding the world of filth which slid along the ground and infected the populace. Sending them to hell. It was unfortunate to have been assigned these two however; he thought they made an interesting couple. Oh well.

LESSON ONE: NO RULES, NO REGRETS, NO REPRIEVES

After ten years in the business, he had had more tempting reasons to discard a job than the one he had now. And so he made his way to the house, circled around, and found the window he had chosen yesterday to enter through. He sincerely doubted they had any alarms. Why would they of all people have an alarm? Alarms draw attention and police, and although they might believe themselves capable of eluding the suspicion of a few local yokels, it was unnecessary attention, and would require them to move away from the comfort they now had. This logic circled his brain as he punched a hole through the glass, head turned away and other gloved hand up to shield his face. His heart beat calmly as he looked over the tall fence into the neighbor's yard, into the dark house. He didn't know why he bothered. No one had been home in three days. He returned to the front yard and watched for lights coming on or people's heads in windows. Again, none.

LESSON TWO: LEAVE NO WITNESSES

There would be no witnesses. No living ones, in any case. He walked quietly back to the broken window and unlatched the door. When it swung open, he stepped inside calmly and shut the door behind him to keep the house from getting chilly. No reason to be uncomfortable during his stay here. He took 15 minutes to walk around the house, learning the layout and size. It was a lovely house, he decided. He glanced at his watch. 3 1/2 hours at the most. He moved back to the living room, and looked about.

A few very nice pictures of the couple hung on the walls, and there were quite a few expensive items of furniture. Immediately he set to work disarranging the furniture. Next he unplugged the TV and moved it into the kitchen, as well as the candlesticks and any other thing of value which could be moved. With the picture frames, he smashed the glass, ripped out the pictures, and took the frames into the living room. Then he sat down and had a cigarette. 2 1/2 hours. In approximately 2 hours he would open the living room door, and the illusion of a break-in would be complete. Chacal sat and waited in the gloom of the mangled living room for the targets and meditated on the fury of what was to come. After a few moments, a grin broke out on his face. What fun.

LESSON THREE: ENJOY YOUR WORK- THE TARGET/S WILL NOT.

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Whatever will happen to them? Continuation depends on reviews, so please review, if only for my sake. I have an ego to feed. Also, the title's a play off of Forsyth's book. I couldn't think of anything better.

Vilest of Worms