by Kari Shuey
Careful not to leave a trace of himself, he walked over to the window, grateful for the view. It was not the scenery he was happy about; it was the vantage point he had of those coming and going from the hotel. His room was exactly one floor above hers. Occasionally when he came out on his balcony, he could hear her talking on the phone or watching television if she kept her own balcony door open.
He was careful to let the sheer drapes conceal him as he observed the people below. Watching for a specific figure, he was not disappointed when the jogger showed up a few minutes later. No longer in athletic wear, he was now in more non-descript clothing… someone that could easily pass through the hotel lobby without a second glance.
He wandered over to the closet by the entrance to the room. Checking the accessibility of the Glock in a holster he had under his flamboyant shirt, he prepared himself for a confrontation. Whoever this jogger was, he wouldn’t be here for long.
As if on cue, the door made a clicking sound signaling a card sliding into the lock system. A single digitized beep was the only warning before the door quietly opened and a tall figure entered. He watched the jogger from the closet, leaving the door open just a crack. He wouldn’t interfere unless pushed.
The jogger was quiet. He didn’t go through her things, nor did he attempt to access the safe. Instead, he made his way farther into the hotel room. From the sounds of grunting and shifting, he could assume the jogger had settled into a chair of some sort. Something vibrated and the jogger pulled out his phone. He answered with a curt “yeah.” Something was said on the other end and he replied, “Yeah, I know. I’m in her room now. Look, I’m a professional. It won’t be linked to you as long as you do as I say. When I send you confirmation, I expect payment to be made in full, cash.” More from the person on the other end of the line. “You remember where the drop is?” A few more seconds of silence. “Okay, I will update you in a few hours. And stop calling me.” The jogger hung up the phone and moved to put it back in his pocket. He rustled around a little more.
Though he couldn’t see the jogger, the few clicks he heard were enough to force him to reveal himself. The sound of a gun being cocked and bullet finding its place in a well-oiled chamber was all it took for him to know exactly what the jogger was up to. He was going to kill the petite blond book shop owner, and in just under 30 minutes she would be walking right into a trap.
He slowly stepped out of the closet and calmly spoke. “I suggest you put that weapon away and leave the room immediately.”