The Specialist

It’s not my normal job but it has become a specialism of sorts. Don’t get me wrong, my full-time job can be pretty exciting. It gets the adrenaline rushing through my body every day. This task, however, is mind-blowing for someone like me. A dream come true.

My day to day job, you ask. My business card reads Consultant which can mean something specific, of course, but it really gives me carte-blanche to do anything I want. So that’s what I do, hire myself out to the highest bidder and I have an unusual skill set. Skills that are highly prized in certain circles.

Known to some as Industrial Espionage or Corporate Spying, I’m always in demand and it’s a lucrative business. Well, it pays for my Mercedes and penthouse, plus the rest of the trappings of an executive lifestyle.

The job I was on though was different, very different. Today I had to kill a stranger. Something I was doing, not for the first time I might add and so I wasn’t a complete novice at. Although the subject was a stranger to me, to the person who hired me it wasn’t. I was to kill her husband of seventeen years so she would inherit the money he wasn’t prepared to allow her to use. It was a lot of money and I had to do a good job, or I wouldn’t get paid the ten thousand pounds I’d been offered. If I was caught or implicated the payment would be of little use to me either. The money earned for a couple of days was exceptional but also very risky. I like risk, it makes life exciting.

It was a favour to Becky, a woman I’d been seeing secretly for a few months and really liked. In fact, I was falling in love with her but there was a snag. She was married to Liam and he had all the money. She felt that over the years she’d earned her share by putting up with his moods, temper and, worst of all, his control of all things financial. In short, he kept her penniless. I would have done the deed without payment, but the promise of a substantial sum just made it all the sweeter.

I dressed casually; a suit wouldn’t really cut it where I was going. I slipped a knife into my right leg scabbard and dropped my trousers over it, searching in the full-length mirror for any sign. Then I picked my SIG Sauer P220 from the locked gun safe and slid it into its leather shoulder holster, pulled on a leather blouson jacket and double-checked myself in the mirror. I left my penthouse via the private lift and down to the underground carpark. The stolen Toyota I’d parked in the corner was still there, out of reach of the security cameras. I listened for any movement and not hearing anything I slipped behind the wheel, fired the engine and left by the private exit. I was soon speeding through the traffic towards my destination. The sun low in the sky kept hidden by the building of the city but when it appeared my Ray-Bans did their job and soon I was in open countryside and heading for the coast.

The car purred along without hesitation and I was enjoying the drive as I watched the night clouds approaching. Twenty minutes later I pulled into the car park on the clifftop. The car park was unmanned, just an expanse of leveled gravel really. There were no signs of life except for a few gulls that I disturbed when the gravel crunched under the tyres of the Toyota.

As I stepped from the car, the strong breeze hit me and carried on it I could hear the sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks far below. I touched my gun through my jacket, and I could feel the knife strapped onto my calf. Over in the corner of the parking area sat a gold-colored Bentley. A tacky shade of gold, I felt for a car of that class. The car was empty, and I walked past it, on towards the clifftop path. By now, it was very gloomy and the lights of distant ships, way out to sea, were becoming visible.

My attention was drawn to raised voices off to my left and so I headed in that direction. Through the gloom, I made out the shapes of a man and woman standing near to the edge. He was waving his arms and gesticulating at the woman, who I recognised as Becky. The plan was working, she’d done her part in getting him here. A smile crossed my lips as he was standing with his back towards me as I approached silently. Walking on the grass rather than taking a chance on the gravel, I moved forward. I knew that Becky had seen me, but she made no acknowledgment of my presence. I didn’t want to stab or shoot him, but I carried the tools if that was necessary. He was so engrossed in shouting at his wife that it was only at the last second that he realised I was there. He turned, a questioning look on his face but within a moment I pushed him, and he went backwards over the edge. I heard the sickening sound of his body hitting the rocks a hundred feet below. Everything became silent and Becky rushed into my arms and I held her for a few minutes but then holding her shoulders I looked into her eyes.

“We need to carry out phase two now and then leave quickly.” She nodded in understanding and pulled a plastic wallet from her bag It held a typewritten letter inside.

“You’re certain that you didn’t touch the paper at all and that only Liam’s fingerprints will be on it?” I asked her.

“Yes, I wore gloves all the time I used it, even when I took it from the printer. I left the document on his computer and only typed it when he was drunk and asleep. I was very careful.”

“Okay, give it to me and let’s go.” She handed me the wallet and we headed for his Bentley. I opened the driver’s door and shook the note out of the protective wallet and onto the passenger seat. He’d now left his suicide note and as he had refused to take out any life insurance there would be no claims investigators nosing around.

It was full dark now as I handed Becky a pair of gloves so she would leave no prints in the stolen Toyota.

“Wow, that was exciting,” she bubbled as we headed back to town, I merely nodded as my mind raced over everything looking for any possible slip up. I was certain that there wouldn’t be, but it didn’t stop each stage rushing through my head. I took little notice of the route back or my passenger until I pulled the car up a few streets from her house. I turned to her.

“Now, go home, behave normally and when the police come you need to be the best actress you can possibly be. Although I’m sure you feel like it but do not drink any alcohol until they have been, and they are satisfied Liam killed himself. Do you understand me?” She nodded but there was happiness in her eyes as she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she said as she opened the door and closed it. I wound down the passenger window.

“Throw me the gloves,” I called, and she turned, threw them at me through the open window, laughed and headed off towards her house. I watch her go; she was quite lovely, but I knew I’d have to leave it a while before we got together again.

I returned home, satisfied that I had fulfilled yet another specialist job and thought about our future together. Plus the money, of course.