Operation: One percent

Chapter 18

Margaret

There are several rules that I went by:

First, never would I kill a child, or an elderly person, no matter how desperate I was. Second, no matter how harmless my opponent might look, I would always study them. Watch their routines, the way they lived, people they came in contact with. 

I may have escaped a close call with Ace back then, but I was walking on thin ice now with him being in such close proximity to me. A more experienced assassin would be thrilled at this and call it a success.

Hunger stabbed my gut, I realized that I haven't eaten anything since last night, and now it was noon. I decided to call him and tell him that I will take a break. Half an hour, I decided, rather than the contracted 45 min lunch break.

"Mr. Mountague?" I spoke into the intercom. 

"Yes, Margaret?"

"I would like to go on my break. Can I?"

He stifled a laugh. What is so funny?

"I don't micromanage Margaret. Of course, you can go."

The line cut off, and I slowly started making my way into the small, private cafeteria. The long cold corridor enhanced the clicking of my heels upon a black marble. The windows stretching from floor to ceiling made the space much more lit up, but it did nothing to soothe the overall claustrophobic and cold impression the space had. Artificial plants are placed at corners, with a hologram picture of his father, stretching through the walls. 

I observed the hologram, as his father's head was proudly lifted, arms crossed behind his back standing straight in his striped suit. Unlike Ace, who had a single soft feature that were his lips, this man had nothing soft about him. He did have the similarity of sharing the same shade of grey Ace had, but his seemed much darker and sinister. With gray hairs at his sides, he looked handsome for a man of his age. If taking Ace down is this difficult for me, I wonder what kind of mammoth task would be taking his father's life?

From the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow that quickly disappeared, alerting me to a possible tracker. Of course, Ace didn't trust me fully yet, and I should have known that.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

"Hello!"

Silence.

Even though nothing or no one was coming out, I felt like I was being watched. He definitely decided to have someone monitor me.

Hunger muting those thoughts I pulled out my homemade meal, as one of my rules was that I would only always eat what I made. I knew that it was I who made it, and I knew what it contained. My meal for today was simple pasta, with tuna from the can. Easy was the way I liked it. Not many dishes to attend to, and even less time is consumed.

I started to imagine Maryem, and how I would be cooking better, more nutritious meals for her. Taking out the drawing, I gazed upon soft lines adorned by colors on the white paper.

I imagined how beautiful she would be as a young woman, with a great talent for painting. How her room might be looking like. I would graze my fingers over the lines of her face, and even if I was being a bad mother, how strong and creative she would be. How I wouldn't be doing what I am doing now, and maybe, my soul could have been spared.

Perhaps... I could have gotten a decent job one day, and she could have a mother that she was proud of. 

Hot tears started to prickle my eyes, and I popped an antidepressant. My workplace, containing my next target was the last place I needed to lose it.

"Are you alright?"

The voice, even if it was calm, startled me. I hid the drawing, and I stood up and turned around.

"Mr. Mountangue! I am sorry...I.."

He looked at me with a neutral face, not a trace of concern on his face, but his voice suggested otherwise.

"Is something wrong?"

I cleared my throat and smiled.

"God no! I am almost done with my lunch so please feel free to take this seat."

He reached towards my face and I winced, but he only softly brushed the tear from my eye.

"What was it that you were holding?"

"Oh, nothing! I was just checking the bills that I have to pay." 

Really? Bills to pay? I wouldn't believe that myself.

He moved and sat in front of me, now the cold steel of his gaze pressed against mine.

"It's not every day that I see a person cry because of their bills. Are things that bad? Do you need money in advance?"

How privileged. I have seen people kill because of not being able to pay for post-off. Then again, I suppose that he doesn't want to have a reputation as a bad boss, so he was maybe being considerate.

"I can assure you Mr. Mountangue, I wasn't crying, because that would be very unprofessional. And secondly, things are just fine, and I don't need any payments in advance."

He gave me a searching look, possibly a sign that would betray me or give off any of my lies.

"Very well."

He broke off the eye contact and stared through the glass window.

"There is no shame in saying you need help."

That was not what I expected, so I decided not to answer, just look at him. He had a sharp profile. Roman nose and small lips. His eyes somehow matched the gray clouds as if being a part of them.

"After all, we are just human." 

 Adam's apple jumped as he said that, and he brought the coffee to his lips, carefully drinking the brown liquid. I remember seeing a drawing of Appolon in Maryems books, who was described as a God of a forgotten nation, and he looked just like that in his Mocca-colored suit. 

"If I ever took help from you, it would probably be like making a deal with the devil, so no. I will pass." 

He moved his gaze toward me as if to say something, to retort. I could have sworn there was a glimpse of sorrow in them, but whatever he was about to say I cut him off.

"I really need to finish my work Mr. Mountangue. I will leave the worksheets once I am done on your desk if that's okay."

He just nodded and didn't look at me at all.

The rest of the day went uneventfully, and we didn't talk anymore.