Sicario

Chapter One

I stopped outside the apartment building. I checked the address on the crumpled napkin. It matched.

I checked my watch. I was 5 minutes early so I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and put it in my mouth. I opened the matchbook and lit the cigarette.

I stood for a while, smoking.

My watch beeped.

I dropped the half finished cigarette, stomped it out and entered the building.

“Apartment 6a,” I whispered to myself over and over as I climbed the stairs.

I found the apartment and wiggled the doorknob. It was locked.

I pulled the lockpick out of my pocket, slid it in the lock and twisted it, snapping the lock.

I pushed the door open quietly and scanned the apartment. I could hear a television playing faintly from another room.

Sliding off my shoes, I crept toward the source of the noise. I could nearly hear dialogue from the television.

I entered the living room and saw a Lazy-Boy chair partly reclined with a hand clutching a beer hanging over the right side.

I grabbed the cyanide pill from my breast pocket. I was right behind the chair.

I spun the chair around and threw the pill through the man’s surprised mouth and down his throat.

I slipped my black leather gloves on my hand as the man convulsed and gagged.

He lay still, his dead glassy eyes staring at the ceiling.

I spun the chair back around and placed the beer in his hand.

I pulled the phone out of my jacket pocket and dialed the number.

“It’s done,” I said and hung up.

I gripped the phone and applied pressure.

SNAP

I put the pieces back in my pocket, put my shoes back on and silently closed the door.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said, walking down the stairs.

Once outside of the building, I grabbed the napkin with the address and wrapped the phone in it.

I lit another match, holding the flame up to the napkin.

I threw the burning wrap in the garbage.

I lit another cigarette.