The Son and the Sparrow

Chapter Thirty Nine(v3)

Chapter Thirty Nine

Leon waited outside a building, behind his car. It was three stories tall, and was blank except for a poster of a woman modeling suggestively on the side. It was the only hint the club offered of what it truly was. But the poster looked as though it wasn't meant to be there, so people didn't realize until they ventured inside.

Leon crouched low to the ground, hand touching gravel, the other clutching a knife. His eyes were fixated on the front door. He knew who he was looking for, what he looked like. Now all he could do was wait. It crossed his mind that what he was doing was wrong. Didn't his past haunt him enough already? Didn't he learn that doing things like this only harmed him? He blocked the thought. It was this or Haley. He had to choose, and he had already chosen Haley. He couldn't look back now. He tapped the tip of the knife with his finger, trying to amuse himself with the sensation. He would have rather used his gun as it was safer, but a knife was smarter in this situation. For some reason, people were more scared of knives than guns. They were more likely to give in to threats with a knife. That and you couldn't torture people with a gun. Well, you could, but it could only last so long. Leon licked his lips in anticipation.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a challenge for him after all.

A man, tall but slightly pudgy left the building, and recognition flashed in Leon's eyes before he moved forward to get a better view. There he was, that poor bastard. He was talking to a friend, somewhat hidden in the darkness, but Leon's eyes were focused only on his target. He blocked out all guilt, any emotions that would make this more difficult than it needed to be. He maneuvered himself to the front of the car, blending into its side, head peeked out from the font. The knife made a scraping sound against the asphalt. Leon licked his lips again. The air was dry.

Where is this guy's car? Leon wondered to himself. Hopefully it was toward him rather than away. The man right now was standing next to a busy street, under lights, while Leon was shrouded in the dark parking lot. He really didn't want to cross such a visible spot to follow the man. And what if the friend went with him? How could Leon separate them? Leon growled to himself in frustration. He should just slit the friend's throat. That would spook the target into obeying him. The knife flicked nervously in his hand, an animal waiting to pounce. He lowered himself, balancing on the balls of his feet.

The two shook hands and went their separate ways, one crossing the street, the target headed towards him. Leon smiled, content with how well that worked out. Where was his car? The man was walking towards him, head on. Leon flattened himself, less he could spot Leon in the dark. Leon's heart was pounding. What if he caught Leon hidden? What if he cried out? What would he do? Leon shook his head, as if that could silence the questions. He couldn't see the man in his position, but he could hear the footsteps. Leon held his breath, ignoring the nerves the pressed down on his chest. He didn't move. He couldn't move, less he alert the man.

The target stepped into Leon's sight for a second, and then was gone, the line of cars blocking him once again. A small smile framed Leon's lips once again. He waited for ten seconds, counting them under his breath, then drew forward just a fraction so he could see just how far away the man was. Five feet away maybe. Not far enough to start moving. He'd catch it from the corner of his eye. If he had good instincts, he'd already be able to sense that something wasn't right. Leon cocked his head, picking up a sound. Whistling. The man was whistling to himself. Leon resisted the urge to laugh. The sound was just loud enough to cover any soft footsteps from Leon. He was making this much too easy.

Leon eased his way backward, away from his target, until there was a row of cars between them. He stopped from a moment, crouched upright, listening. The man was still walking. He kicked off his shoes, and silently made his way down the line, ears catching the man's soft whistling. Leon was walking at a faster pace than the man now, until he passed him. The knife felt solid in his hand, and he gripped it. He hid behind another car, and waited.