A Crooked Waitress

Chapter 40

Patches of red roses and yellow daisies moved with the breeze in the lush grass. An ocean was nearby; Jamal could hear the waves and smell its distinct scent, but couldn't see it. An old dog came out of the grass and peered at him. Its brown eyes seemed as if it wanted to say something. He waited for the canine to speak, but it turned around and vanished in the tall vegetation.

Jamal opened his eyes; a big smile was plastered on his face. It took him a second to come back to reality and get out of bed. He had taken a nap and overslept. Yawning, he put his sniper rifle and its silencer in its case and slipped that into a gym bag.

In his line of work, being on time was the difference between alive and dead. He had to arrive before his prey and prepare his execution. At least that was his routine, but not today.

He got in his car and drove toward the docks. If everything else went right, he still had a few minutes to prepare before Eric arrived.

A woman was driving a minivan in front of him. And her children—four kids under the age of eight— had buckled up inside. He honked for her to give way, but she ignored him.

The traffic didn't allow him to go around, and he honked again. The woman brought her hand out of the window and shook it. It probably meant don't waste your time.

One of the kids, a little girl of about five years old, was drinking a pink liquid out of a glass bottle. The honking attracted her attention. She stared at Jamal and sucked on the sugary treat.

Her curly brown hair framing her round face gave her the look of an angel out of a church painting. She finished her drink and flashed him a large friendly smile. Jamal involuntarily smiled back as he looked for a way to pass by the minivan.

The little girl swung the bottle out of the window. It flew an arc and smashed on the pavement in front of him. He had no chance to change direction and drove over the glass shards. The intact bottom of the bottle was pointing upright and slashed his tire.

As he slowed down, the flat tire flapped on the road. The little girl and her siblings were giggling.

He stuck his head out of the window. "Oy! Watch your damn kids!"

But the minivan moved on; mommy never knew what her little angel did.

He pulled over and opened the trunk to get the spare. It took him a few minutes to change the tire, and then he looked at the clock on his phone. There was no question of arriving ahead of time anymore. He needed a new plan to ambush his target.

***

Eric saw a black B.M.W. stopped a couple of hundred yards away, and a man carrying a rifle case got out of the vehicle.

So it was supposed to be my funeral after all. Is this his fee I'm carrying?

He looked at the money envelope.

The hitman walked toward a red container. Eric knew what was coming next, and he had very little time to stop it. The assassin had turned his back to him; that was his chance. He got out of his car and ran in a big circle around the area. His path would bring him behind the man.

The containers put side by side, had created a barrier that shielded Eric from his view. They were on his right, the ocean on his left, and he ran on a strip of concrete between them.

The setting sun hit him in the face, and his long shadow chased after him. His narrow path ended; one more step and he'd fall in the water. He made a ninety-degree turn and a couple of minutes later, made another one. A hundred yards farther, and he was almost there.