Switched Identity

    Boom! Bang! The blast of the berettas reverberated throughout Saul’s living room. These were close enough to be on his front porch. Were they for him this time? A shudder formed at the base of his spine and raced to his skull, spider webs of terror weaving through his hair follicles. He shook. How had it come to this? Cowering in his own home nauseated him, especially when this situation was usually reversed.

     Like a trapped rat on a sinking vessel, Saul abandoned his ghetto house. His go bag had been repacked on return from what was supposed to have been his last hit. He scooped it off the bench beside his back door and darted into the cool black night. His steps were quickened with fear. Until, out of the inky molasses, loomed the being who had created this closing net. His feet slowed as if he had entered hardening cement. A cold sweat trickled down his back. His bag became a shield. His eyes, trained from years of espionage, spied out his escape routes without giving anything away… or so he thought.

    “It’s useless, Saul.” The man rumbled. “Abel’s got the alleyway, and Ben’s covering the corner. Relax, you don’t think those shots around front are for you, do ya? You know me better than that. A slim slice to the ribcage… up close and personal… that’s more my style.” His widening grin reminded Saul of the Joker, but this man knew no humor.

    Saul’s brain went into overtime, devising plan after plan, only to end with nothing to show for his mental workout. He was stuck. He did the last thing he could… he groveled. “Alright, Capo. I can do more jobs if you wish. Let me know, and I’ll come out of retirement for you. Say the word!” His voice held steady solely by the months of grueling interrogations, done by so-called employers who said they were conditioning him. He scoffed at the memory of near torture. If it took one more job, so be it. He had to get out.

     “Saul, Saul! Come now. You tried to duck me. You didn’t even get your due. Can’t have my books unsettled, can I? You not getting paid was weighing on me.” Capo’s hands were out wide in a placating gesture. “I’m here as a welfare check, that’s all.” The Italian accent thickened in the lie, Saul noted.

    “Of course. I got held up. I was coming for it. Didn’t mean to avoid you.” Saul slackened his shoulders, relaxing his gait as he began to move ever so slightly.

    “Ah! All is opportuno, then? This will be your payment.” Capo tossed a sack to Saul.

    Catching one-handed since he didn’t want to drop his go bag, Saul leafed through the stack of bills. “There’s extra.”

     “Quite so. You were magnifico. I do have another job for you since you so kindly volunteered. That should cover your upfront expenses.” Capo’s skin stretched like a snake as his malevolent smile resurfaced. 

     “I can do that. Where and when?” Saul wanted out of this man’s presence more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.

    “Maria will contact you, as usual.” Capo’s face melted into nothingness. 

     He was there one minute and gone the next. Saul could do this as well, and he put it into good use immediately. He was five streets over before he ducked into an all-night diner. He set himself in the far corner, constantly scanning the inhabitants. Confirming he was free for the moment, he allowed his heartrate to slow. The adrenaline could leave. He breathed deeply as the waitress delivered the requested cup of water. 

    There was no way Capo would let him walk away. How had he convinced himself otherwise? Saul would have to die. There was no other option. He ate his last meal as Saul Russo. 

~     ~     ~     ~     ~     ~    ~    ~   

     Mr. Cooper was known by many but understood by none. His job depended on anonymity. The hours were unusual, but the work was rewarding. His long-reaching arm gave him security. Yes, life was good. He nodded to himself at the latest request. This Saul character was in over his head, and Mr. Cooper could fix it. His mind instantly began compiling a list of items he would require. A rope, a can of spray paint, some makeup, a cadaver, a private jet, and a new set of credentials should cover it. He lived by the motto of not overdoing things. Let the likely conclusions rise to the surface of their own volition. He speed-dialed Lucy at the Peace Funeral Home. She worked third shift, so it was no problem fulfilling his appeal that very night. 

    He backed his hearse to the side-street door not two hours later. The condition of the body was exactly as he had specified. The peddler would not be missed, and he had only passed away a day ago. Rigor mortis had come and gone, meaning the body would be pliable for Mr. Cooper’s purposes. 

     The purplish color of an asphyxiated soul was produced with the purchased makeup. Nothing to trick a coroner, but enough for those peeking through windows. The suicide note was written on Saul’s living room wall with the can of spray paint. Stuffing Saul’s wallet into the man’s trousers began the switch. The rope twisted around the deceased’s neck in a hangman’s noose and strung around the light fixture easily. A chair was placed sideways beneath the corpse. Mr. Cooper was in and out with five minutes to spare, avoiding the rotating guard duty Capo apparently had stationed. 

     Mr. Cooper’s call to Saul was met with unbridled enthusiasm. The waiting jet would be their rendezvous point where cash would be exchanged. Bubbling thanks and unbelief ended the conversation.

    Saul stood, holding his phone to his ear for a half-second more. His identity had been successfully switched. Somehow, he could not accept it was over. Could this mastermind be that good at making someone disappear? 

    Mr. Cooper had alerted him to the dead man’s name. He repeated “Jasper Phillips” to himself on the way to the private airport via taxi. He would have to respond to that title to pull this off. 

    The buzzing of his cell caused his heart to skip a beat. No contacts were saved, but Saul, no, he was Jasper, recognized Maria’s number. He swallowed and answered. 

    “The target is Senator Kelly’s daughter. Her file is coming to your phone.”

     Saul pulled the phone away from his ear to view the info. The 12-year-old’s humongous brown eyes peered out of the photo, shouting innocence. He held in the groan. They were going after children now? He would never do this, but Maria’s next words tightened his gut. 

     “Except, you are to retain the target until otherwise notified. You have 12 hours to accomplish your task. Keep the target in good health and appearance.” Click.

     That explained the upfront partial payment. They realized he would have to prepare a lair to hold a child for an indefinite duration. His conscious was easing as he remembered he was out of the game. He wouldn’t have to do this. He was Jasper Phillips now.

     A cruel fist of reality clinched his windpipe. If he did not do the job, Capo would simply send someone else. He gripped the taxi’s seats in pure panic. He couldn’t leave the girl to those monsters. He had done the jobs as long as they were clearly protecting the family, but they had been branching out. Hence why he had wanted to erase his involvement. Although the murder and mayhem had been increasing, he never had imagined them dipping into child kidnapping. He could not run away when this little girl’s wellbeing hung in the balance. Maybe, Mr. Cooper could be of assistance one more time. Jasper had to get the girl first.

    Capo’s schemes were never difficult. They had lined up the timing of the snatch to occur at the perfect opportunity. The girl liked to tell her pet goodnight. The dog house was located ten feet from her back door. The cameras rotated back and forth. Jasper knew from experience dogs loved him, and he predicted this Great Dane would be no different. The gentle giant of breeds simply wagged his tail when Jasper appeared out of thin air. The girl, on the other hand, opened her mouth to scream. Dosing her with the lightest drug he could find was a necessary evil. He was gone before the cameras caught him. 

    Messaging Mr. Cooper the urgent need, Jasper waited in a mall parking lot for a response. 

    Mr. Cooper phoned instead of typing his irate answer. “You want what?”

    “Get me the location I asked for. That’s it. I’ll take a couple pictures of the girl, sending proof to my previous employers I got her. I can whisk her away to return her to her family for them to actually hide her. The Senator will have plenty of time to move the girl somewhere safer. All I need is a basement of some kind. You make people disappear. This little girl needs that same help, just in a smaller way! Please!” 

     “That jet won’t wait on you for much longer, Jasper Phillips, and the price will be exponential for this add-on.”

    Jasper didn’t led the taut tone detour him. “So, this means you’ll do it?” 

     “I’ll see.” Then silence filled the space.

     True to his word, Mr. Cooper arranged the site. It turned out to be a cellar from some pub of an owner who owed him. The pictures were snapped, and the girl was safely restored to her backyard, a note pinned to her jacket explaining the urgency to relocate her. Jasper texted the pictures and location of the cellar to his employer. He figured after he didn’t respond for say a week Capo would be dispatching his men for a violent confrontation. Jasper sent in a tip to the local FBI team, suggesting they keep a close eye on visitors to that particular spot, and ditched his cell. 

     Perhaps, he had not been interested in one last job, but this one felt like a swipe across his slate. Under his switched identity, he would begin to fill his life with deeds of kindness and goodwill. The jet was patiently waiting at the airport with the increased incentive of a higher payout. Jasper’s miserly days were coming in handy now that he had a useful reason to spend his money.    

    Mr. Cooper vanished from the runway with a nod of farewell, off to turn around someone else’s hopeless existence. He began to think to himself of his own retirement, but no, the thrill of the chase drove him… the chase of the perfect disappearing act. Abracadabra!