"Won't you save me,
'cause I'm slipping away.
Just save me from myself,
'cause all these angry voices
Are making my choices.
Please save me from myself."
"Save Me" –Burn Season
Chapter Ten:
Somebody was knocking at the door.
"Come in!" called Margot from the kitchen as she stirred dry spaghetti into a pot of hot water.
The knocking continued.
"Come in!" she bellowed.
Still, the knocking didn't stop.
"For God's sake, Margot! Just answer the damn door!" her mother shouted at her.
Cursing, Margot rushed from the kitchen to the door and opened it. "What?" she demanded furiously.
It was Freddie. "Happy to see you too," he stated dryly.
"God," she sighed. "What are you doing here?"
"May I come in?" the man inquired.
Margot was about to invite him in when something stopped her. Peering suspiciously at the man, she asked, "Is this a friendly visit, or is it business related?"
"What do you think?" he retorted.
She sighed, muttering, "Of course." She stepped from the apartment and closed the door behind her. "No, you may not come in. Mooney sent you, didn't she?"
"Shh!" Freddie hissed, glancing around furtively. "Not so loud."
A baby wailed behind one of the doors while a TV blared behind another, but otherwise, the corridor was silent.
"Nobody cares," Margot growled. "Just tell me."
The man carefully reached into the pocket of his jacket, handing her a folded manila envelope. Inside, Margot found a single photo of an unfamiliar man.
"What's this?" she inquired.
"He'll be at the Stacked Deck around 7 PM tonight." Freddie leaned in nearer, permeating Margot's air with his rancid breath as he added, "Mooney wants him gone."
Margot took a step back. "And if I refuse?"
"Don't," he warned her. "Believe me."
There was something in his eyes that Margot couldn't deny, a blend of fear and pleading. "Who is he?" she inquired, indicating the man in the photo.
Freddie laughed nervously. "She said you'd ask. She wants you to know this: he's a criminal, a lowlife. Nobody will care that he's dead. In fact, you'll be doing the city a favor."
"And I'm supposed to believe that?"
"Trust me, it goes over better if you do."
She stared down at the photo for a moment, then looked back up at Freddie.
"Get out of here."
He slinked away, but the feeling of dread that he'd brought with him remained behind.
It seemed the time had come for Margot to start paying off her debt.
You'll be doing the city a favor.
That's what Margot told herself as she climbed to the roof of the building across from the nightclub.
It was dark, but Margot could assemble her weapon easily by feel. It was a Remington model 700. For hunting it said on her permit, but it was just like the M40 she'd used in the service, as both were built from the same model. The bullet in its casing was as long as Margot's pointer finger, and the magazine held three. She'd only need one, though.
She lowered the bipod and rested its feet against the concrete ledge, peering through the scope and aiming the crosshairs at the club's only exit. She'd already run the numbers through her ballistics calculator. There was a bit of a crosswind to account for, but the target was less than a hundred meters away. It wouldn't be a difficult shot.
Snipers were used to waiting and watching. Margot had once waited for a target for over eight hours, hardly moving from her position. She was good at waiting.
When she saw the target, it was natural for her to adjust her aim, inhale, and squeeze the trigger as she exhaled.
By the time sirens and lights approached, Margot was long gone, leaving nothing behind but the body that bled out onto the pavement.