Phoenix

Chapter Three - First Kill and A Truth

At first, I peered into the veranda's glass door and watched the raindrops as they fell from the sky. It hasn't rained in weeks since I arrived in New York. I glanced back at the glass table just near the fireplace and there was the cup of tea left waiting for me to lift it up. I still couldn't sleep. Seeing the night lights glinting through the haze of rain was amusing. It makes me forget that expression on the dying man's face and I felt a sudden urge to go out into my veranda to bathe under the rain . . . though I just had my shower. . .

My hands reached for the door knob but didn't find them. Two days had passed yet I still couldn't forget what had happened. I peered steadily into the glass and into the dark clouds.

And then, the events kept coming back. . .

***

Little did I know about the man. Little might not even be enough. Creased edges of a well-stuffed envelope slid against my fingers and they felt rough as I crawled them in inside to look at the contents which somehow I could foretell. I pulled out the papers and the first thing I pondered at was the roughly-shaved man looking straight at me. Beside him were a set of facts . . . all relevant facts that have everything to do with him and everything that could make us do it the most flawlessly we could. Or, rather, is it I?

Immanuel San Pablo

Age: 48 Ht: 5'6'' Wt: 158 kg. Eyes: Brown Hair: Black

Almost re-reading the details at face, I scanned across the pages and found the dozen photographs all related to Mr. San Pablo, as well as reprinted newspaper clippings, then I came back to his profile.

Milex Spirits Corp. and Subsidiaries

CEO

It was just as unsurprising as it must knowing we'll be dealing with this kind of people now and then (or as it always was) because it's just the way it is. Deal with it —more often than not, the best crimes of the city involve businessmen, politicians, and the like and their wealth, with the rest of the credit going to anyone they employ to do the dirty jobs.

Little, the air whispered beside me as if it were the words of conscience, then I read blankly at the printed data resting on my hands, which were indeed a lot of facts. Weren't they? There was one of them showing him beside a pretty little girl giving her best smile. Maybe this was the daughter? How old must she be by then? My hands were slightly cold as I looked at the face of the . . . stranger. Yet, after reading these, I thought, I would know everything about him. After all, little may or may not be the right word but one thing was for sure —Mr. San Pablo is not a good man, because if he was, there would be no reason why I should kill him.

"We'll be leaving in twenty minutes," I heard the deep husky voice uttered coming close across the parking lot distracting me. Slipping in the envelope near the passenger seat, my eyes stared outside my tinted window. At a moment, I caught my own reflection and noticed how much black leather I was wearing tight against my skin; then through the tint, DK came walking well-covered in his knee-length jacket and thick knitted shirt all in black, matching his dark drooping hair. Within a very short moment, I thought he'd look like that sidekick guy of Batman whatever his name was, but noticing the blade beside his thigh made me chill a little bit. Nonetheless, I thought there was something new again in his face . . . in his deep-set eyes as he spoke. His expression was not exactly serious, I must say, they were quite blank. His thoughts seemed quite preoccupied, or perhaps they've always been, but still, whatever he's thinking, it must be somewhat puzzling him. As he walked towards in between our cars, he swept a quick hand beneath his jacket, looked at Catseye through the car, and then joined her as she turned to gaze at me from beside the driver's seat. She winked at me with her mouth slightly open as if pouting.