Best Served Cold

6

Goldset Park was nothing special. It was fairly simple as far as parks went. There were two fields, sandwiching a trashy public bathroom and a playground between them. Trees stood guard around the grass, uniformly spaced. Moonlight glinted off of a public restroom’s tin roof and filled the fields with an eerie blue light. The parking lot was empty aside from one Honda Insight, with no one inside. At midnight no kids played on the playground, no teams played on the grass. The place looked completely deserted.

But looks can be deceiving.

In reality, ten people were waiting inside that bathroom. The holes between the walls and the ceiling that were supposed to pass off as windows were the mounting places for three sniper rifles, mine included. John and Sam were each beside me, also scanning our side of the park for life. We were coming up empty.

Below were Mario and Milana, waiting for the signal to bust onto the field. Another team of five was in the girl’s bathroom opposite us in case the deal went down on that side.

At first it was hard to notice anything except the stench of crap wafting through the grimy building. Just standing in it made you feel filthy, and you knew that the smell was settling in your clothes and your pores. But slowly it faded until the sound of the distance bustling about of cars was more noticeable.

I peered again through my scope, sweeping from side to side. I didn’t see any movement, so I took a moment to look down at Milana. Even in this mess, just the sight of her brought a smile as I remembered the taste of her lips on mine.

That has got to be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever thought.

Tap. Tap.

Recognizing Sam’s signal, I was immediately back on my rifle. I was just in time to see three people emerge from the trees on the left and walk to the middle of the field. One of them had a backpack on, and two more were gripping pistols. I thought I recognized one from the DEA building, but I couldn’t be sure because of the darkness.

Three more men came to meet them from the right, also with side arms at the ready. They all gathered in the center, and I could barely stand the tension.  I would have to take another life soon, all for this undercover mission. I almost wish I’d refused the assignment and continued with my life.

Almost.

Slowly the man with the backpack walked between them and started shrugging it off. I moved my crosshairs to align with the man’s head and held my breath. The pack slipped off one shoulder, then the other, and finally landed on the ground.

As if a string was cut, the tension disappeared and soft popping noises erupted around me. Blood sprayed over the grass and the men dropped like flies, two of them dead in half a second. I pulled my trigger instinctively and saw the backpack carrier drop down to the ground, but John and Sam were already shooting at their next targets. A scream erupted, but was silenced quickly by another gunshot.

In less than two seconds, there was only one man was still squirming on the field. I had only shot him in the leg, but then John’s gun popped and a rose of blood bloomed over his terrified face.

All that was left of the transaction were six dead bodies littering the ground and one backpack, standing untouched in the middle of the bloodshed. It was over.

I had failed, though. I didn’t kill a single person, and that wouldn’t reflect well on my skills as a hitman. Professional killers weren’t supposed to have doubts about death, and they certainly shouldn’t hesitate. But I did hesitate, even though I knew it wasn’t logical. My inaction wouldn’t save their lives. They were going to die whether I pulled the trigger or not, and my logical side knew this.