Chapter Three – The Job

The phone awoke Franco, who had had a horrible night. Almost by instinct, he reached for the gun and pointed at the door of the small room he had rented out for the night. "Hello?" "Turn on the news, tovarsisch." Knowing who the voice was, it couldn't have come at a worse time. He flipped on the cheap television set to find a newscast covering the previous' night's episodes. "The target was a young man by the name of Alexei Gorky, who was having dinner with his fiancée and an unknown third person. Gorky was murdered and his fiancée disappeared, along with the mysterious third man. Police reports four dead and one wounded from gunshot wounds fired by this mysterious character." Great, now the cops and the press were after him, thought the Jackal to himself. "I don't know what happened to her. I did all I could." "Relax. She is with me," growled Gogol. "It is a shame for Alexei, he was a brave lad. I am in the city now. Do not attempt to contact me. Make friends and get money, there are people watching your every move. I must go now. Davisdanya." Franco shut off the TV and then took a quick shower, afterwards going back to watch the news. He was a trained soldier, and death of a friend only momentarily halted him. The doorbell rang, and Franco reached for the gun. "Who is it?" "A friend. I am unarmed, I wish to talk business." Carefully, Franco yelled back, "Come on in!" and opened the door, hiding behind it. The man, a short and stocky man of mixed descent, walked in. As he went completely inside the room, the Jackal jumped out and stunned him, closing the door.

When the man, who by the ID on his wallet was named Jesus Gomez, came to be, Franco interrogated him. "So, Mr. Gomez, what brings you here?" Gomez reached for something behind his back, but Franco had already taken care of it. "I have kept your gun, insurance purposes." "Fine, I'll talk. I was sent here by the Dominguez family, we need you for a job." "How do you know about me?" "We saw you on the news." Franco's anger blinded his usually keen intelligence. "Do you know who was behind it?" "Yes, and we are sincerely sorry, but at least we could help you find out." "What is in it for me?" "A healthy reward plus satisfaction." "OK, I'll bite. I'll drive."

There was no sense in hiding a lot from this barbaric man, Gomez reasoned, and guided the Jackal to the Dominguez Estate. "Hard to believe a Cuban owns this." Franco muttered darkly. "Our boss is a very gifted man." "I'm sure he is. Who am I supposed to be meeting?" "Colonel Jaime Martinez. He'll brief you on your first mission." Franco was amazed, to say the least. He had come from a two-year stay in Moscow, and he hadn't seen houses this luxurious since a long time ago. After being led into a small office, Franco waited for several minutes before meeting the Colonel. His first impression was that of a strong man living in luxury, rugged skin and eyes that showed nothing, the eyes of an intelligence officer.
"Good day, Mr….?"
"Call me the Jackal."
"Okay, Mr. Jackal, I trust Gomez told you about things here."
"Pretty much. I do your dirty jobs, you pay me, you get me closer to the culprit."
"They are not dirty jobs, they are…justice functions."
"I'm sure they are, now let's cut the crap and tell me what my first mission is."
Martinez handed him a large manila envelope. "Your mission is to find and eliminate this man. There is a car waiting outside as soon as you're ready."
"Weapons?"
"You'll be packing a Springfield Sniper. The rest is up to you. Good luck." Martinez left, shutting the door behind him.
Franco opened the folder and began to analyze its contents. The first page was a full-length series of mug shots and photographs of the target. It was a fat and balding man, whose gait revealed him to be an alcoholic and a pervert. Franco wasn't mistaken and read the following on the sheets of paper.

Name: Gus Wilson

Origin: Atlanta, Georgia

Known illegal operations: Drug trafficking, prostitution, grand larceny, fraud, embezzlement, ten counts of rape, two counts of child molestation, and ringleader of a child pornography trading net.

Base of operations: Wilson residence, Suburban Bison city.

Frequents: Cloud 9, notorious bar.

The rest of the document was trivial information, his sleeping and eating habits, he was recently divorced, stuff like that. Franco now had a reason. He considered child molesters criminals in the lowest rung of crime, even lower than genocidal lunatics. Pumped up, Franco left and gasped at his new car. It was a white Inferno, of the kind that is rarely seen anymore. It had good gas and could reach fantastic speeds. He climbed aboard and a GPS locator gave him instructions as to where he was. It was only noon, so he spent the day getting used to the city and its surroundings. It was a huge city, with its own divisions and subdivisions.

Finally, at around nine-thirty, Franco drove up to Cloud 9 and parked away from the club, where he found that an elegant tuxedo had been pressed and stored in the car, he slipped into it and then checked the briefing documents again. Wilson was going to drive up in about half an hour, in a trendy Mini Cooper. In a split-second, he saw a valet go out through the back entrance to relieve himself near some dumpsters. Franco made his move quickly; as the valet finished, he turned and was greeted by a blow from the butt of the rifle in his face, and dropped as if his legs disappeared from under his self. He then dragged the unconscious boy behind the dumpsters and changed into the valet's clothes. Then he went back up front, just in time to be greeted by Wilson. "Park this out in the back. And don't scratch it, or it's your ass." He said, tossing the Jackal, his face marked by darkness, the keys. Meanwhile, the Jackal parked the Mini Cooper just within sniping range. After that, he climbed out, walked back to the Inferno, changed into the tuxedo again, and went in through the main door.

It was a lavish antro, as nightclubs are known in this part of town. Dozens of bodies were dancing together like fickle flames, blurred by an impressive light show and heart-pounding music coming from the deejays at the very back. After an hour or so of merrily cajoling, it was time for business. The target was leaving the area, probably for a night of chronic masturbation. Franco stealthily followed. Half-drunk, Wilson staggered to the mini-cooper, which he just realized he had no keys to. By the time Wilson had fully comprehended what was going to happen, Franco went into position. He tossed the keys and loudly cocked the rifle. "Freeze!" "Who are you?" "I am Lust. One of the seven capital sins. I know what you did!" The Jackal fired a bullet at the ground, which missed deflecting into Wilson's knee by a mere fragment of an inch. "You're interested in my stuff? I'll get you a full year's subscriptions if you want, just leave me alone. I'll get you movies, anything!" Another bullet, purposefully missing. "I'm sorry if I hurt your daughter, she came onto me, I didn't know she was ten. I'm sorry!" He had just confessed. "Who sent you?" "No one you know." I took a step closer, putting the rifle down. "It's Dominguez, he's after my property! Here, I'll let you have it if you promise to let me go." "What kind of property?" "A house and condo on Liberty Beach." "OK, I got a deed right here. To what name should I make it?" "To MacCloud, James." I saw him sign a sheet of paper and put it back in his wallet. "It's yours if you give me the rifle." He turned, and light bounced off a metallic object he had in his back pocket. A gun, a small colt. At the range it was in, it could probably deal some damage, and I wasn't that willing to take a risk. I brought the rifle back up. "Wait! You promised you wouldn't kill me." "I lied." The trigger was pressed rapidly three times. Wilson fell, dead before hitting the ground, and the Jackal dragged his body into a dumpster.

Driving home, Franco took out the cell phone that had been given to him along with the tuxedo and speed-dialed 1. "Martinez here." "Mission accomplished. Who can I talk to about a new set of ID?" "You can talk to Pat O' Flanagan tomorrow morning about it. He is our lawyer for that sort of stuff." "Okay. Where's my reward?" "Your reward is the brand-new, snow-white Inferno that was given to you. Any personal belongings you kept from Wilson, you can keep. There is a safe house arranged for you on the outskirts of Liberty Beach. You have three days till your next assignment. Good bye."