Behind blue eyes.
Summary: No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man...behind blue eyes...Overused, I know and no, it's not a songfic, it's just that those lines fitted so excellently with the story.
I'm having this experiment phase right now, where I'm trying to stretch my writing abilities in all directions and this is my attempt for angst which I haven't been very good at, that kind of stuff always comes out kinda fake or shallow but I hope I'm getting better and it would be appreciated if you could tell me how you think I'm doing and make suggestions for improvement. Thank you.
WARNING: Curse-words, violence, sex and gall. You have been warned (but I still hope you read).
Sometimes there is just no way out...
He carefully chose a gun from the rack; it was a thirty-eight handgun, silver and went nicely in his hand. Well, it looked nice there. It didn't feel too nice. But he had gotten used to it by now.
There was nothing they could do. The beautiful house was gone. Ruins in flames that lit up the dark winter night. And their parents and aunt... Gone.
The blond and muscular young man swallowed the lump in his throat but paid no heed to the tears that were running down his face. He looked at the tall, dark-haired man who was standing beside him. The taller one -and also the older one -held a fist against his mouth like to keep from screaming. He was trembling.
The fire department and ambulances were there within 10 minutes and the police sooner but it didn't matter. The explosion had torn the house apart within 1 minute.
Most of the fire fighters were now trying to put out the fire in the house's foundations and others were carrying unconscious or terrified neighbors out of their houses. They had either caught on fire as well or large debris had fallen over them.
The smoke blew over the northern part of town in the strong wind and many houses had to be vacated.
Con Riley, head of the Bayport Police force was standing close to the brothers.
A fire fighter came out of the house carrying something black but when he got closer and the brothers saw what he was holding, they broke.
Joe screamed out in agony. Frank drew a sharp breath before he heaved up. Riley closed his eyes but he still saw it in his mind: A burnt and broken scull.
He screwed on the silencer and put the gun in a holster inside his leather coat. He then looked into the mirror. He looked pretty good. Except his eyes weren't quite right. He couldn't even act happy anymore. The outfit indicated a young man going out to have fun. Maybe going to a bar and have a drink or a few and maybe hit it off with a pretty lady. Not tonight. Or any other night. He took a deep breath and left the small apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Joe accepted the drink Callie handed to him before she sat on the arm of the Lazyboy-chair Frank was sitting in. He downed the drink in one sip and slammed the dram on the glass table in the living room of his brother's two-storied top flat.
"Did…did the fire marshal say anything?" Callie asked Frank.
"Nothing we didn't know already," her husband answered. His voice trembled.
"Which was what?"
"Somebody killed them in cold blood," Joe said in a thick voice.
Frank nodded. "Bomb was probably…probably set off with a remote control."
There was a short silence.
"Will you be handling the case?" Callie asked.
Frank shook his head. "We're not allowed to."
-"But won't you anyway?" Callie asked, knowing the brothers very well.
Joe swallowed another lump. "Of course we will, we won't just sit and do nothing," he said angrily.
Frank looked up sharply. "Yes, that is what we'll do," he stated.
Joe gaped. "What? Frank… you can't just…"
Frank was shaking his head. "I think might know who-"
-"Why's eryone waking?" said a sleepy voice from the doorway. The 4 year old, blond-haired little girl stood there wearing a white nightgown, holding a teddy-bear.
"Oh, hi Uncle Joe!"
"Hey there, sweetheart," Joe greeted affectionately but he didn't smile. He couldn't smile now.
Frank and Callie were looking at each other worriedly. How were they supposed to tell their child about her grandparents and great-aunt?
Josephine crawled up to Joe's lap where she fell asleep again.
Then there was crying from upstairs. The adults looked upwards.
"It's like they know," Frank said gravely.
"I better go check on 'em," Callie said. She squeezed Frank's hand before she went upstairs to the two years old twins, Georgia and Brian.
Joe looked from the little blond head on his knees to his brother. "What were you saying? What do you know?"
He took a taxi; didn't have a car. Cars were traceable. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. It was raining outside.
The driver was a middle aged man, nothing interesting or suspicious about him; dark hair, dark clothes. But then again everything was dark right now.
He made the driver stop some distance from his destination. He'd walk the rest of the way.
Joe was in shock. Frank had just told him that the people he thought had blown up the house were the people he was working for. Joe didn't even know Frank was working for anyone else but their father's private investigation firm. They both worked there and they were very successful.
"You remember the Network?" Frank asked.
"Do I remember the Network?" Joe repeated indignantly.
-"Well, at first I thought this was something like them, I thought they were good. I mean, they seemed good. It seemed the things they were doing were good."
-"But?"
"They weren't. They tricked me into joining them and now I can't get out and… and I must help them do those things… I don't wanna do."
"So… you're an Assassin now?" Joe's head was spinning wildly.
"Well, if we keep using that analogy, then yes, I guess that's about it," Frank couldn't look his brother in the eyes. He was deeply angry with himself and he had no idea what to do.
"They were… they were trying to… silence you… with this?" Joe could hardly speak, his throat was so dry and he was shivering.
But Frank kept making it worse. "No… that was just a warning."
It felt like Joe's insides were full of lead, sinking lower and lower. Everything was so heavy and hard. He just wanted to grief his parents and aunt in peace. "So you're saying there's a bigger blow coming?"
"I think we should be prepared for it," Frank said. He stirred the scotch before he drank up.
A few days later Frank was contacted by an agent. The company was simply called the Agency. It probably had other names as well, as an insurance or a real estate company –but the Agency was all the Hardys ever heard.
Frank was right. The bomb was only a warning. To show they meant business. No 2nd chances, no swaying of the rules. No forgiving for mistakes or betrayal.
He was glad to be out of the building and back out in the coolness. All instructions were verbal but he had memorized them very well, he knew what to do. Actually there was one thing he had gotten on paper this time. That was a risk. Maybe they were starting to trust him. No, they just knew they had him in their pocket.
He called another cab.
Frank made a mistake. He told Callie about the Agency. And somehow the agents found out.
It wasn't until a year after the explosion.
Frank came home late. He had gotten caught up in paper work. He, Callie and Joe had agreed on a system about contacting each other every hour. They lived in the shadow of a pending threat. Then one day it struck.
Frank punched in a new code that reset the alarm system before it went off when he came inside. "Callie, honey?"
No one answered.
He went upstairs. No one there.
He called her cell phone. No answer.
Then he called Joe from his cell phone, his anxiety growing with each second.
"Hey, Joe, you still at the office?"
-"No, I'm home."
-"When was the last time you heard from Callie?" Frank waited impatiently while Joe looked at his watch and counted the minutes.
"About…forty minutes," he finally replied, "What's going on?"
"They're gone."
-"What do you mean 'gone'?"
-"They've taken them."
Joe didn't waste time on explanations. "I'm there in a minute, all right? Don't. Go. Anywhere."
He reset the alarm system before he went into the living room where he found Frank sitting on the couch with his head bent down between his knees breathing steadily. When he sat back Joe could see his red-brimmed, teary eyes and his heart ached.
"Do you know what they'll do to them? Will they hurt them?"
Frank shook his head slowly. "I… I don't think so…I, I think they'll use them to control me. Us. We have to wait for them to contact us."
"Why?" Joe asked.
-"Because that's the rules."
Joe felt the chillers go down his spine. 'The rules.' "Fuck the rules, Frank! We have to do something!"
"What?" Frank spat at him. "What do you want me to do? I have no idea what to do. You think I don't want to? You think I enjoy this..?" Frank's voice was growing louder.
"No, Frank. No, of course not," Joe sat beside him. He moaned and rubbed his knuckles. "I just can't stand not being able to do anything at all. And it's even worse when you can't figure a way around it."
Frank was touched by the emphasis Joe put on the word 'you'. But he was completely paralyzed. He knew the Agency wouldn't hesitate murdering his wife and children if something went wrong.
"I wish dad was here," Joe said quietly.
Frank nodded.
They sat there together and waited to be contacted.
He reached to his inside pocket and found the flat plastic bag, the kind that forensics put evidence into. This one held an invitation card. Falsified.
He was in front of a skyscraper. He looked up. His destination was 23rd floor.
They weren't contacted until the next day. Apparently the Agency worked slowly that way.
The brothers had fallen asleep on the couch, each leaning their head on the arms of the couch.
When they woke up a man was standing in front of them. A pretty normal looking man. Maybe thirty-something, brown hair, black suit, neatly shaved, no accent, no special kind of characteristics, no nothing. Just an ordinary looking business man.
"Hood wants to meet you, both," he said.
The brothers were taken to a car, they were blindfolded but they knew by the time the drive took and the sounds from outside that they were being taken to New York.
They both guessed the car was parked in a cellar parking lot under some building. They were led to an elevator, and down some corridors and up and down more elevators and corridors. Again, they guessed they were just being confused. The blindfold was never taken off until they stopped in a dark room.
The window was covered by thick, dark red draperies behind a Mahoney desk and the only light in the room came from a lamp on it. There were two chairs in front of the desk and one behind it, empty.
Four men stood behind the Hardy brothers, all very similar to the messenger. There were three doors in the room, one behind them, one on the left and one on the right.
First the one on the left opened and a man came in. He was just like all the others, perhaps slightly older. Frank recognized him. He had met him once before. In another place. He called himself Robin Hood. As did all the leaders or spokesmen of the Agency's leaders.
Frankly, he wasn't sure what the Robin Hoods did exactly. Frank had met two others of them, both in different places.
"Good morning, Hardys," he said politely. Nothing special about his voice either.
"Where's my family?" Frank demanded.
Hood answered by looking at the door to the right. As on a cue they opened and Callie came in accompanied by a man and a woman. Agents obviously.
Callie ran straight at Frank and hugged him tightly.
"Oh, baby! Are you ok?" she kissed him, half-sobbing.
"Yeah, I'm ok. We, we're ok. Are you? The kids?" he was kissing her back.
"Yeah, yeah, we're fine, we're good…"
And their arms locked around each other, they lost themselves in their fierce caresses like it was their last ever.
Everyone else in the room just watched expressionless. Except for Joe who was fighting the urge to reach for his gun –which hadn't been taken away from him –shoot the agents and run. But he knew that was a hopeless plan. Hell, it wasn't even a plan. And the building was probably ranked with them anyway.
When Frank and Callie finally stopped they had to wipe their mouths with their sleeves but they didn't let go of each other.
"Well," Hood started, "We have an assignment for you."
Joe was surprised and startled when he realized the words were directed at him. He glanced at Frank.
Hood noticed. "Don't worry. Your brother will not be harmed as long as you follow the rules. Otherwise however…well…I'll be sure to let you know if something goes wrong…And you Frank, are going to help him. The assignment is this: We will give you a name. Frank will work a safe plan to get to and away from the target and Joe will execute. Quite simple."
"You want me to…kill people?" Joe's voice came out hoarse with his shock.
"Yes," Hood answered.
"I can't…I can't…I can't do that..."Joe had never felt worse in his life, including when his parents were killed.
"Well, you must, Joe," Hood said softly, "Because, believe me, I'd hate for anything to happen to the little ones."
Now he did feel worse than a few seconds ago. He was stuck. Perfectly trapped, no way out.
"I'm gonna be sick," he was sweating, and breathing in sobs and his heart was beating so hard he thought it might break his chest.
An agent hurriedly grabbed an aluminum dust bin from a corner of the room and placed it in front of Joe who caved in and retched into it.
After a while he trusted himself to lift his head again and accepted a cloth from an agent to clean himself.
Callie looked into his eyes. "Oh, Joe…" she whispered. Then she threw her arms around his neck and cried.
Frank squeezed his shoulder, unable to think of a way to comfort his brother. What was he supposed to do? He was surprised that Joe was to…"execute"…Probably the agents just thought they gained something from having both Hardy bothers at their mercy.
But he knew Joe would do anything for the kids, kill or die himself. Just like Frank would.
"Well, to make everything a bit better, I'll give you three a moment with the children. We'll be outside," Hood stood up and followed the other agents out the door the brothers had come through and closed them.
Then the door that Callie had come through opened and Josephine, Georgia and Brian entered.
Their eyes lit up when they saw Frank. "Daddy!"
The twins now 3 years old, clumsily ran to him and hugged him. He couldn't help but shedding a few tears.
"Dad, what are we doing here?" 5 year-old Josephine asked.
"Well, Jo, honey…" Frank's voice trembled, "You need to stay with these people…for…for a while."
"Yeah, but who are they?" the girl persisted.
"They…um…they're…me and Uncle Joe, we… work for them and they're gonna baby-sit you instead."
Frank was afraid. Would the last thing he'd ever say to his children be a lie?
"It's too dark, there isn't any windows," Georgia complained.
"It's boring," Brian pouted, "No toys."
"Well, I'll talk to them about that, ok?" Frank smiled at him.
Brian thought for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Ok."
Josephine wasn't so willing to buy it right away. She was eying the adults so suspiciously they thought she saw right through them.
"What happened to you, Uncle Joe? Are you sick?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it sweetheart, it'll pass," Joe brushed her off and tried his best to smile.
"What do we do?" Callie asked.
"We follow the rules," Frank said determinedly.
"But…" then Callie seemed to understand and began whispering, "The room's bugged, isn't it?"
Frank nodded but didn't lower his voice. "Yeah, probably, but it doesn't matter," he looked at Joe, "I want you to promise me you'll take no chances when it comes to my family. Never."
Joe gazed at him from the corner of his eye. "This is my family too. You…" his voice broke and he looked away.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Frank apologized, "I just…"
-"Yeah, I know," Joe cut him off.
"What's going on?" Josephine asked confused.
"It's gonna be ok, I promise," Frank lifted her up and held her on his arms.
Then Hood and six more agents came in. "Well, it's time to start. You oughta say goodbye to each other because you'll be separated for some time."
"Are you keeping the children here?" Frank asked.
"No, they'll be taken outside the city. They'll be by the sea. I'm sure they'll have fun and their mother goes with them," Hood snapped his fingers and two of the agents moved to each side of Callie, ready to follow her out.
She hesitated before she threw herself at Joe and hugged him and then Frank. They held on a bit longer. Then a one last kiss and then she and the kids left after they had also given Frank and Joe their hugs, and kisses goodbye.
And the brothers were alone with Hood. He sat back down behind the desk, put on reading glasses and started writing something down.
"You two will also be separated," he said without looking up.
The brothers nodded knowingly. They had been expecting that.
"The only way for you to contact each other will be through agents and Frank, should Joe fail in something…you'll be the first to know…"
Two agents grabbed Frank's arms and dragged him away. He cast a desperate glance at Joe who felt more alone than ever.
There was silence.
"Permission to speak," Joe said. Just in case.
Hood looked up. Something flickered in his eyes. This military manner of speaking seemed to have touched something in Hood. Joe remembered that.
"Granted."
-"What are the rules? You keep going on about the rules, what are they?"
Hood leaned back in the chair. "There is actually only one rule but it's very extensive so…"
Joe lifted his eyebrows questioningly.
"The rule is simple: Follow all orders. If you don't, you get punished."
"Good evening, Mr. Hardy," a middle-aged lady wearing a glittering evening gown greeted him.
He handed her the invitation card and nervously waited while she inspected it loosely.
"I am so sorry about your father, he helped me a lot many years ago," the woman smiled sadly, "I realize it's been some time but I haven't met you since…then… I haven't gotten the chance to offer my condolences."
He smiled politely. The smile didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Rogers."
"Was that case ever solved? Did they ever find out who was responsible for the explosion?" Mrs. Rogers who was a member of the city counsel, asked curiously.
He shook his head. "No. There were many theories but…" he left the sentence hanging.
"And then this thing with your brother and his family. It's terrible…. How much can you put on one man's shoulders," she sighed dramatically and finally handed him back the invitation card.
People greeted him from all directions and women's eyes followed him, while he was looking around for his target. He wondered how disgusted this people would be, this people that respected him and appreciated, if they knew how soaked his hands were of innocent blood. Perhaps not completely innocent though. He never knew much about the victims, didn't want to know. But it seemed to him that even though most of them were maybe no saints, they did not deserve to die.
He hated the situation. So many people he knew he had to put up a fake smile and shake hands with.
But he did what he had to do.
Joe was shown a picture and given a location, a plan and an exact timing.
He fought to keep his breath steady.
"Do you see him?" Hood asked, holding the photograph in front of him.
"Yes," Joe replied.
-"Are you certain?"
-"Yes." He thought the image would be forever burnt in his memory and would haunt him every night when he closed his eyes.
"Good. The agents will take you to your apartment where you will prepare yourself; we will give you tools for this assignment but after that you must provide your own equipment according to the plan and get yourself to the location…with possible exceptions though," Hood put the photograph into an envelope and into the desk drawer.
Joe snorted. "For something as vast as you people, you seem pretty poor employers."
-"We take no chances," Hood answered seriously.
'Cowards.' Joe wanted to spit it at him but he followed the Agency's example. Took no chances.
Then he was blindfolded again and taken here and there in the building before returning to the underground parking space and into the car and back to Bayport.
He went over the plan a few times in his head. He tried to eat but couldn't. Once he had the phone in his hand, had punched in Con's number but didn't call.
It was beginning to grow dark when he grabbed his jacket off the stool back and left the apartment.
The location was downtown. He knew his way round. It was a filthy joint, hidden in the maze of Bayport's underworld, near the warehouses by the docks.
If hadn't been so distracted by his intentions he would have been dying with the shame of being seen in this place.
The outer look didn't matter in there. This was the kind of place where everyone rich, poor, powerful and powerless gathered and let out the devil in them: Unclean young men in torn clothes scarred and bruised by the hard life in the underworld and tidy, combed, suit-dressed, middle-aged men with suitcases and knee-long coats, smoking their fine cigars.
He bought a bottle of bear at the bar. Then he went to the toilets. They were so disgusting; he thought he'd throw up. But he waited in the booth. While he waited, he emptied the bottle into the toilet, very slowly, in long spurts. That made pretty much the right sound.
When he was sure he was alone he quickly opened the booth, turned on the water and filled the bottle.
When he came out he scanned the crowd for the one he was looking for, occasionally sipping from the bottle and drumming his head to the beat of the music.
He saw him sitting with three other men. They were all of the higher class. But they sat there with their vodka and cigars and enjoyed watching the two strippers on the stage close to their table.
Joe shouldered his way towards them. He slammed his hand down on the man's shoulder.
"Sir, I must ask you to follow me," he said with as much authority as he could.
The man looked up. "I haven't done anything," he said defensively.
"Should we discuss that with your wife?" Joe ventured to threat after noticing a wedding ring.
The man narrowed his eyes at him. "Who the hell are you?"
Joe felt a little bit better about this. He would have hated it even more to hurt someone who knew him.
"A cop. Let's go, now, please."
The man rolled his eyes but stood up and followed him unsteadily outside.
Joe led him around until he found an empty alley.
"What exactly are we doing here?" the man asked suspiciously.
Joe didn't answer. He was starting to shake with anxiety and his breathing became shallow. He turned to face the man, He had him trapped in the alley and even though the man was taller than him, he knew he could overpower him; he was drunk and unfocused.
Joe clenched his gloved fists.
The man saw the change in him. "Tell me! What is going on?!" he demanded, he was getting afraid.
Joe desperately tried to find a way out of this but all his mind did was replaying his last moments with his family. The look Frank sent him as he was being dragged away. The children hugging him goodbye…
Some sort of a combination of a growl and a sob escaped his lips as he lifted his arm and struck the man over the head. And again, and again.
The man fell to the ground but Joe kept on brutalizing him. He absolutely hated having to do the poor man over with his bare hands. He stopped to look around for something to finish with. He saw a pile of broken boards and sticks stacked up against the wall. He took up one stick and turned to the victim.
He couldn't. He couldn't kill a man. He was shaking violently and his lungs could hardly keep up with his rapid breathing.
'Come on, Joe. You must, you must…' But he just couldn't. He stood over the half-unconscious man, lying before him drenched in blood. Some bones were probably fractured or broken too. But Joe couldn't do it.
"I can't! I can't do this!" he screamed out before falling to his knees. He wanted to throw up. His stomach twisted and he gagged but nothing came up except a bit of slimy saliva.
The next thing he knew, two people came from behind him. Quickly and quietly they finished off the man. Carelessly threw the bloody stick away. Then one of the men found Joe's tool bag in his pocket and took up a small bag of white powder. He strew tiny little grains of it all over the alley, on the man and lastly put a bit into a soda straw and blew it into the man's nostrils. Then he found his wallet in the inside pocket of the coat and took it, as well as his cell phone, watch and a thick golden ring on his left index finger.
The other man grabbed Joe's shoulder where he still kneeled in the dirt. "Come on, Hardy. Time to go."
He saw the target by the balconies in the enormous hall. It was well but delicately decorated. A huge chandelier hung in the ceiling 20 feet above and illuminated the hall. It was filled with people and the light ricocheted on ridiculously expensive glittering and glowing dresses and jewelry and the bubbly champagne in the tall wineglasses.
There was a table in the middle, nearly swaying beneath all kinds of ramekins and 7 feet long marzipan cake which on read in chocolate letters: 'Congratulations, Mayor. In hope for another 50 successful years.'
The target was a woman. She was tall and thin with blond, short curly hair. Her eyelids seemed heavy under tons of layers of make-up. The golden jewelry around her neck and arms were simple but clearly very expensive. Her long dress was also golden and went well over her figure.
He watched her from some distance. She didn't speak with anybody there. She seemed distant and uncomfortable.
He tried not to make any assumptions about her though, tried not to think of her as a person. She was just the target.
The agents drove Joe home. For an entire hour he just sat still on the couch, unable to move. Then he started to pull himself together. He took a shower and ate a little bit. Then he became nervous. Would they hurt Frank? Or Callie or the children? He knew he had messed up but he wasn't sure what the punishment would be.
He didn't find out until two days later. Then he was contacted again. When he came home from work –where he hadn't gotten much done –two agents were waiting outside his apartment block.
They took him to New York, blindfolded like the last time. Everything was done like the last time and when the blindfold was taken off he found himself in the same office with Hood.
"You failed, Joe," he said.
Joe waited.
"You didn't follow the orders," Hood watched him accusingly. "We had to punish your brother."
Joe's heart sank. Hood stood up from the desk and walked over to the door on the left.
"Come on, follow me."
Joe obeyed.
It seemed to be some kind of control room or surveillance room. There were many monitors on the wall and computer equipment and a few agents.
Hood pointed at one of the screens.
Joe twitched when he saw a lone figure sitting in a chair in the middle of an otherwise empty room.
"Frank…" he whispered brokenly.
Frank was bound to the chair; his face was almost unrecognizable as bloodied and swollen and bruised as it was. Blood had dried in his clothes. Though the picture was small, Joe still noticed clean streaks on his brother's bloodied cheeks, and he silently cried too.
"If you screw up too much, Joe, sooner or later there won't be so much left of your brother and then his wife and children will replace him," Hood said.
Joe looked at him. He hated him. If there was a person on this earth he'd gladly kill, it would be him.
He turned away from the monitor and closed his eyes. Frank's voice echoed in his mind:
"I want you to promise me you'll take no chances when it comes to my family. Never."
He would never screw up again.
"Do we understand each other?" Hood asked.
Joe nodded weakly.
"Good. You will be contacted when we have another assignment for you."
He followed her when she went out on the large semi-circle shaped balcony.
Her back was bare and her shoulder blades stuck out a little. He thought she was just a little too skinny. But that didn't matter any more.
He got closer to her. She was leaning over the guardrail. The balcony was shielded by the balcony on the next floor and only a few raindrops made it there. Also, this side of the building was in shelter from the wind direction.
He came to stand beside her. "Care for a company?"
She looked up. Her eyes were green. "Thank you, but I'm not that much of a company myself."
"That's fine. At least we can be bored together," he smiled dryly.
She smiled back.
He had the man at the right place. This one was older than the last but he'd found him a similar place.
The gray-haired man was standing on a pier on a far end of the docks. It needed much repairing.
Joe was hiding under it.
"Where are you?" the man weakly yelled.
It was different than the last time. When Joe had found him, he'd told him he kidnapped his daughter for ransom and wanted to meet at this place.
He was wearing out-worn jeans, a black parka and a black cap, hiding his hair, and a black scarf covered his mouth and nose and his eyes were covered by swimming glasses.
The area was empty and the only sound came from the waves, lazily coming back and forth against the shore.
Joe waited until he heard the man was standing directly above him. Inside the loop. He yanked the rope. The loop tightened around the man's ankles, he lost his balance and fell into the sea. A heavy stone was tied to the main rope and the man pulled it down with him when he fell and held him underwater so Joe didn't have to do anything but wait.
When he was sure he'd waited long enough, he waded into the sea, nosing himself by the rope. The freezing cold water was deeper than he could reach when he got to the body so he had to dive down. He had had the pocket knife in his mouth but now he used to cut the rope off the man's ankles and the stone.
Then he waded back under the pier and pulled the rope with him. He looked over the water. The body would probably float up and to the shore but he was sure it would take some time to find it.
With stiff muscles and chattering teeth he walked towards the boat shelters, tried to keep out of sight. By one of them he had stashed a bag with dry clothes. He changed and put the rope into the bag with the wet clothes.
Then he stopped to take a deep breath and let it sink in. He had killed a man. He squeezed his eyes shut. Imagined what it must have been like for the poor man. The thought almost made him gag.
He shook his head. He had to. For his family.
They were talking. Mostly they just talked about general things that were frequently on the news and such. He avoided all together asking personal questions about her.
Judging by the first impression, she just looked like rich but a lonely young woman. He had taken notice of the wedding ring on her finger. He couldn't help but guess she was probably married one of the old, greedy fogies inside. What if her husband came out? That would not be good.
He wasn't contacted again until two weeks later. Two agents were waiting outside his office. He wasn't blindfolded this time. They took him to a hotel in Bayport. There was Hood.
"Well Joe, last assignment was successful," he said.
Joe didn't say anything. He didn't realize Hood was looking for a confirmation.
"Well?" he pressed.
Then Joe understood. "Yes," he mumbled. "Successful."
-"Good. I hope this one will be too…for your own and your family's sake."
He couldn't believe this plan. Frank couldn't have made it. It was full of loops and situations where he had to depend on sheer luck. The timing wasn't set until the next night but in the meanwhile he had to get himself to New York. There he checked in a motel room and waited for the right time.
He dressed up according to the plan. Clean jeans, white, tight t-shirt showing off his abs and a leather jacket. He thought about the photograph he had been shown while putting on the aftershave and ruffling his hair. It would be an exceptionally hard assignment.
He took a taxi downtown. He made the driver stop at a club. It wasn't the location he'd been given though. He was supposed to walk at least three blocks so the taxi couldn't be linked to anything special.
He found the place. It was a café. There weren't many people. He ordered a cup of coffee. Black. He didn't really like the taste but he drank it anyway.
The target was serving other customers. There weren't many of them there.
It was a woman. Younger than him, he thought, maybe nineteen or twenty. 'With her whole life ahead of her,' he thought sadly. His expression hardened. Josephine, Georgia and Brian had more life ahead of them.
She was black. Her twinkling eyes, long eyelashes and sleek, curly hair were black.
As far as Joe could see, she had nothing in common with the other two victims.
He followed her around with his eyes. That was the first glitch, maybe she'd never get close enough for him to get an eye contact.
But she did, fortunately. Or unfortunately.
She came to clear the table next to him and he openly surveyed her behind and when she finally noticed she smiled teasingly at him and he leered back.
Risk two: Maybe she didn't dig the blond-blue-eyed-type.
'What a lotta faith they must have in me,' he thought sourly.
"Can I service you?"
He looked up at her; caught on the double meaning of her words.
"Yes. You can bring me the check," he said, observing her face closely.
-"Just a moment," her eyes stayed on him while she walked away.
He emptied the cup and when she returned he paid in cash. He stood up and shoved the change into his pocket.
She was much smaller than him and she watched him expectantly; didn't lift her head, just her eyes. It made them seem bigger, and more seductive.
"How long is your shift?" he asked.
She smiled that teasing smile again. "It's over in a few minutes."
They exchanged lustful gazes.
He didn't remember exactly how, but somehow they ended up in front of an apartment block, then they were kissing inside the elevator and then they were in her small but tidy apartment.
Her hands were tangled in his hair and his were under her shirt undoing her bra and their tongues were entangled.
'This isn't part of the plan,' he told himself, 'You can't sleep with her; that's detectable. You can't sleep with her; you're supposed to kill her.'
He gasped and pushed her away. He breathed heavily as he watched her and mental images of his family and the longing for feeling loved struggled inside of him.
'I have her. I don't need anyone else, I'm in love,' said a voice in his head.
'You met her ten minutes ago, you don't know her at all. You're going to finish the assignment. For the family, the ones you really love,' said a stronger voice.
"Are you all right?" she asked and worriedly bit her lip. Her beautiful black eyes examined him. "Should… should I call a doctor or something?"
Why did she have to die? What had she done to become a thorn in the Agency's side?
She took his hands and bowed her head to look into his eyes. "Hey…?"
He looked at her for a moment with pain. Then he closed his eyes and opened them again. "I want you," he whispered and pulled her closer.
"Well…mutual…Mmmmh" she sighed in response to his kisses.
The memories of how they got into the bedroom were blurred. They undressed each other and fell down on the bed where they rolled around.
He took her face into his hands while he kissed her, she rolled him over so she was on top of him, he rose up to kiss and suck on her chest. She moaned pleasantly.
"What's your name?"
The question startled him. "What?"
"I gotta know what name to scream out," she explained with a grin.
He snorted playfully and continued kissing her.
"Tell me," she demanded, laughing.
He stopped. "It's Joe," he said after a while.
"Ok, good…Joe…" she smiled and pushed him down and reached for a small package in the side drawer.
He held her by the hips, helped her moving. He loved the moans and little out-cries that she didn't try to repress at all. He loved the sight of her, her closed eyes and open mouth, her sweaty breasts bouncing. He loved the feeling of warmth and lust.
She moved his hands to her breasts and he caressed them and then found his hold on her hips again.
Her moans were getting louder, her movements getting wilder.
He tried to keep his eyes open when the ecstasy hit them, to see her throw her head back before falling down on him trembling.
His heartbeat slowed down and the feeling returned to his legs but he didn't move. He fell asleep with her on top of him, still inside of her.
He woke up with a bad taste in his mouth. He had completely ruined the assignment. He silently cursed himself. Then he looked down. She was sleeping with her head on his chest. He stroked over her hair, then he shook his head and closed his eyes. Maybe there was still time to finish it. He had his gun in his jacket, maybe he could make it look like a screwed-up break-in. He shook his head again. His plans were so below Frank's and the Agency's.
She was beginning to stir. Eventually she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Oh, hi, didn't notice you there," she said in a drowsy voice. Then she smiled and reached up to kiss him. It was awful; neither had brushed their teeth since last morning. But it was still nice.
He didn't stop for breakfast. He took a train to Bayport and a cab to his apartment where he showered and ate a little. Then he spent a good time pacing around and waiting to be contacted and faced with the punishment.
But no one showed up or called or anything. Maybe he still had time to set things right. He was pretty sure that he'd know if Hood was angry with him. He sat down with a water bottle and tried to make a "decent" plan.
He found a note with a phone number in his jacket pocket when he went to get his gun. Above the number was a name. Maria Black. He knew exactly who Maria Black was. Only she could have such a fitting name. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He had to kill Maria Black.
He went to see her that same night. He took his gun with him. There was a silencer on it. He couldn't come up with anything better than the attempted break-in.
He was greeted by the smell of strong spices and then a deep kiss from Maria. She had been expecting him.
She led him into the tiny living room and handed him a wineglass and took a sip from her own.
"I'm sorry, I don't drink," he said and put the glass back on the table. He couldn't be drunk when he'd do it.
She raised her eyebrows. "No? Not even for special occasions?"
He shook his head.
"Well, I hope you're hungry though 'cause I've worked my butt off to cook this meal," she said and grinned.
"Oh, I am hungry," he assured her.
She looked at him with a smirk; caught on the double meaning of his words.
The few bites he had of the dish did taste wonderful but they didn't last sitting at the table, they much more felt like being on the top of it. And again Joe's plans went out the window.
The Agency didn't contact him for weeks and he was guiltily enjoying the time he spent with Maria. He had no idea how things were with Frank or Callie. For all he knew they could both be dead. He knew he was being incredibly selfish for someone in his position. The Agency could probably very well take Maria and use her to manipulate him. And he was in constant pain over his betrayal to Frank and Callie.
At times he just thought he might as well let them get killed sooner than later, he saw no chance of freeing them…except through death. A long and probably torturous death.
Then he thought of the children. No, he couldn't let anything happen to them. Any of them. Except for Maria. And when he thought of that he wanted to die himself. Maybe that was the best way. Then he didn't have to worry about anything. But then they would make Callie a punch bag and Frank would have to do the things he was doing. He couldn't put them through that.
One night, over a month later, when Joe came to his apartment in Bayport from Maria, four people were waiting for him there. One woman, three men, one of the men sat on the couch and the others stood protectively around him.
"Are you an agent?" Joe asked the one who seemed to be the leader and his heart sank.
"I'm Robin Hood," the man said. He was not like the Robin Hood Joe had previously met. This one was younger, rougher, most likely crueler.
-"Where's the other one?"
-"You don't need to know. You just need to know who you're taking the orders from."
There was silence.
Hood Jr. cleared his throat. "Things have been dragging a little with Ms. Black, haven't they?"
Joe couldn't answer. The pain he felt was so overwhelming, he didn't trust himself to speak.
So Hood continued. "The timing you were given was over a month ago. We've been rather generous here; we haven't pushed you at all but our patience in running out, Joe. And this delay will come down on the children if you fail one more time. You have until Monday morning."
Joe swallowed. "What…what…day…is it…today?" he asked shakily.
"It's Friday," Hood replied. "Do you understand your orders?"
Joe understood this man wouldn't accept half an answer or 'maybes' so he nodded. "Yes."
"Excellent. Remember, until Monday morning," then the agents left.
He was sick the rest of the night. At one point he couldn't understand how many tears his eyes could produce for him to cry or much gall there was in his entrails for him to throw up.
He didn't sleep the entire night and before noon, he took his gun and went to New York.
The smile froze on her face when she saw him when she opened the door. "Joe, oh my god, you look terrible. Is something wrong? Are you sick?" she stroked his clammy cheek lovingly.
He pushed her hand away and shook his head. "It's nothing." His voice came out so raw, he hardly recognized it.
He followed her inside.
"Would you like some coffee or tea maybe?" she asked gently.
He shook his head.
"You know, you really should see a doctor," she said and chewed on her lip and drummed her fingers on her crossed arms.
He took her by the shoulders and held her still. "Maria…"
She looked into his eyes. She always kept her chin paralleled to the ground and moved her eyes upwards.
"What's wrong, Joe?"
He hesitated. "Have you ever heard of…the Agency?"
Her eyes widened and she clasped a hand over her mouth. She backed a few steps away from him. "Wh-why?"
"I…" he didn't know what to say. 'I work for them? They're manipulating me? They're slowly killing me?'
Suddenly she started coughing, and then breathing shallowly.
Joe started. "Maria, what's going on?" He watched her look for something.
The shallow breathing turned to wheezing.
"Maria?"
"My…my…my medicine…" she choked out.
-"Why? Wha…What's wrong?"
-"Asthma… attack…"
-"Ok. Where's the medicine?" he tried to keep calm.
She shook her head. "Don't…know…try the…bathroom…"
He went into the bathroom and searched in the closets until he found the inhaler.
"This?" he held it in front of her.
She nodded and reached for it. But he didn't give it to her.
"Maria, what do you know about the Agency?"
"What…? Joe… please…" she was looking at him desperately.
-"Will you tell me about it?"
She shook her head. The sweat was starting to run down her face. "Can't…can't tell you…I…I swore…"
Joe looked at the little object in his hand and pondered its importance. "Not even if I give you the medicine?"
"Joe…! I beg you…!" she was crying, and it seemed to hurt a lot.
He swallowed. He didn't want anything more than to give her the medicine. Except for one thing: He wanted to see his beloved family free and happy again. And he wanted that so desperately.
It seemed her eyes were growing larger, he could see the white all around the black circles.
The wheezing and snuffle sounds were almost unbearable, and her crying…
"Joe…Joe…please, please…Joe…"
He closed his eyes and cried too. He wasn't sure if the attack would fade, but he didn't want to take any chances. He had to keep her in shock.
"I work for them…The Agency," he said through the tears.
She stared him. "Wha..! No! God…No…"
"They…" he couldn't go on. He closed his eyes again to regain a grain of composure. "They assigned me to…to kill you."
She was crying harder and shaking, almost like she was having a seizure. Her skin was starting to turn blue and she was in such pain.
Her trembling legs suddenly gave in but Joe caught her before she fell to the floor.
"Oh, Maria, baby…" he kissed her sweaty forehead through his sobs. "I don't wanna do this, I really don't but I must. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
The wheezes got more violent, she was choking. Finally she stopped moving. The sparkle left the black eyes.
He allowed him self five minutes of grieving. Then he took the medicine and clasped her lifeless hand around it and then dropped it to the floor, not far from her out reached hand.
He carefully laid her down; didn't close her eyes. He waited a few hours. Then he called 911.
The next days he fully played out the role of a grieving lover, although not much acting skills were required for that role.
He said he had found her on the floor when he was coming to visit her.
There was a small-scaled investigation. Officially she died of asthma attack but there were suspicions about Joe. There were a few who thought he had murdered her but there was a lack of evidence and he was a known enough individual of the society for most people to eat up everything he said.
The Agency sent a man just to inform him they were satisfied, although it was a close call.
But never again was it as hard to take lives as before.