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The car was parked a good distance away from the main entrance, but the driver still had a perfect view of anyone coming in or coming out of the building.
A couple of hours ago, when the Messer guy had come out venting hot air, the driver had allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction. His plan was on the move.
He would be the first to admit that, this time, his work was being a bit more elaborated than his usual hits, but the person who had hired him had specific demands that he needed to see to. To answer those requests he had needed a different plan, a jigsaw plan in which every piece of the puzzle had to not only fit the design, but also fit it with an exact timing, as he had planned.
He hadn't become one of the best in what he did by being sloppy. Detail was everything, in this or any other business.
Besides, this time he was dealing with people that were particularly dangerous to him, people who dedicated themselves to find the errors in his work; the evidence that could put him behind bars. He had to be extra careful if he didn't want this job to be his last.
When Taylor and Bonasera had left minutes after Messer he hadn't bother to follow them. This wasn't it yet.
The driver wondered how long it would take them to find it. They were supposed to be one of the best CSI teams. He wondered if he had left enough clues behind.
Like always, after accepting a new hit and being given his first payment, the driver would take his time to investigate the target. Life style, good habits, bad habits, usual hangouts, past history, family, the works.
This guy, Messer, had little to no personal life. Little contact with family, less than a hand-full of connections outside work and the occasional girlfriend that wouldn't last more than a week. His life was his work and he apparently lived for it.
Especially after what had happened last week. The whole being under investigation for possible shoot of a police officer had been heaven sent for the driver. It had provided with the perfect peep hole through which he could start messing with Messer.
The driver smirked at his own choice of words, coughing the cigar' smoke that had scratched his throat. The increase number of people coming out of the police station caught his attention.
Taylor, Bonasera and the Burn came down the stairs with an air of urgency about them. While the women opened the trunk of one of the cars and stored their field kits inside, Tayler met with Flack and two uniformed policemen, coming from the opposite direction. They talked briefly, their smoky breaths pinpointing each sentence, before going their separate ways. Tayler opened the driver' seat and joined the women inside the car.
Flack, followed by the uniforms, went back to his own car and accelerated after the CSI's speeding car. The whole exchange hadn't lasted more than one minute.
'This is it,' the hidden driver told himself. With unrushed movements, he man dragged one last smoke out of his cigar and threw the butt out the open car window. This time he would be going after them, but he didn't need to hurry, he didn't even need to follow them. He knew exactly where they were going.
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