Ariel city. The night sky was cool and the wind was gentle enough on the eyes, but hard enough to tussle the hair. Solomon had set up his camera with an expensive zoom lens, another item he acquired with the five finger discount. The camera had enough reach to penetrate the large glass window of the building neighbouring theirs, Hotel Babylon.
Solomon placed a cigarette in his mouth and battled the wind as he struck it alight. He offered Jake the open packet. “They'll kill you,” Jake replied simply, he and Solomon had done this dance before.
“Everything will kill you Jake. You turn on the news these days and they'll tell you. The food we eat will give you cancer, the water we drink will poison you, I mean we're in a day and age where even apples have as much sugar as chocolate. So I say screw it, this little cancer stick makes me feel good, much better than an apple ever did. If everything in this world wants to kill me, I may as well help.” Solomon took a long drag and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs.
“Then you want a bottle of bourbon and a line of coke to go with that?” Jake mused as he peered through the camera at the motionless room, waiting for the toilet door to open.
“Now you're talking.”
“This is taking forever.”
“Take it easy Jake,” Solomon propped himself up on the buildings ledge and flung his feet over the edge. “Waiting is part of the job.”
“You've done this kind of thing before?”
“Once or twice.”
“He's out,” Jake said as he watched one of Ariel city's Judges step out of the bathroom and make his way to the door. Jake watched him through the zoom lens. A woman entered the apartment. They made their way to the bedroom. He produced a handful of cash and showed it to her before placing it on the bedside table.
“Gotcha, you son of a bitch. Think twice before giving me community service,” Solomon said.
It was the early hours of the morning when they met at Sam's apartment to compare their progress. The three of them drank whiskey while laughing at pictures of men in women's underwear, or winced at the shots of the depraved sex acts of some of South-Ariel's up and coming politicians.
“I did not know he was gay,” Sam said as he filled an envelope with photo's and a strongly worded letter.
“I'm sure his wife doesn't either.”
The three of them wore white latex gloves and tight caps, to prevent any stray hairs from falling into the incriminating envelopes. When they were done they had a stack of ten large yellow envelopes, each stamped, addressed and ready to go. Each letter had a time, place and amount – which varied depending on the target's assumed worth.
At that same time, Charlie and Harry were sitting in their car. The moon was long past its highest peak, the hour was late and the streets were deserted. A quietness surrounded them. A black duffle bag sat between them. “You sure this is the place?” Harry asked.
“Yup, exact address Ducky gave me.” Charlie replied. Harry unzipped the duffle bag and reached inside. He pulled out a faded black and blue hockey mask and handed it to Charlie; his own had was left of yellow and red paint. They checked their surroundings one more time before exiting the car with a baseball bat in each of their hands. They carefully closed the doors and silently made their way up the unkempt front lawn of an old colonial, and equally neglected house. The paint on the walls was peeling and the cracks in the windows seemed to have been slowly spreading for years.
“This place is a shit-hole,” Harry said softly.
“Ducky said he was a tweeker,” Charlie replied as he motioned for Harry to go around the opposite side of the house. They split up and made their way around the structure, peering in the windows as they did. They met up in the backyard and carefully stepped onto the out of shape wooden planks of the patio. Charlie tested the door handle.
“You've got to be kidding me,” Harry shook his head when the door opened freely. Silent as shadows, they pulled the hockey masks over their faces and made their way into the house. The inside was worse than the outside; tattered clothing lay strewn across the floor, among an indescribable amount of random garbage. They followed the rhythmic snoring that flowed through the hallway until they came to the bedroom.
A bare mattress with a single half naked man lay in the middle of the room. They stood on either side of him and stared. Harry poked the man with his bat. There was no response. Charlie raised his own and gave the man a solid tap on the back of the head, he instantly roused from his slumber. His crusty eyes stared at the two menacing figures spying him from above. In a moment of realization the man scattered to his feet and attempted to flee. Charlie stood in his way and threw him against the wall. Harry swung his bat and struck him in the thigh, the man screamed as pain took his leg. The scream barely lasted a second as Charlie forced his brown leather gloved hand over his mouth.
“You know who we are?” Charlie asked as he brought his intimidating mask closer.
“Angels of death,” Harry added.
“What do you want?” the rattled man pleaded once Charlie allowed him some breathing space.
Harry's head turned when he heard movement in the house. He jumped towards the open doorway as another half naked man entered wielding a kitchen knife. With one hand Harry thrust his bat into the mans sternum, causing him to keel forward and grasp at his torso, with a flick of the wrist Harry spun the bat full circle and struck the man on the top of his skull, sending him down to the ground.
Charlie returned his attention to the man in his grasp. “Are you Chilly?”
The man shook his head. “He is,” his quivering finger pointed to the man at Harry's feet.
“So you're Roach then,” Charlie said. “The other day you and your friend here took something that wasn't yours, and you hurt someone very close to me.”
“I'm sorry,” he pleaded.
“I can see that. We'd really appreciate it back.”
Roach's jaw clattered as he replied. “We spent it all.”
Charlie grabbed Roach by the face and forced his powerful thumb into the pressure point on his cheekbone until screams escaped him.
“Okay! Okay!” he pleaded. Charlie threw him to ground and watched as the man scrambled for the mattress. Harry kept his foot firmly on top of the struggling man. Roach took a handful of cash from under the mattress and handed it to Charlie.
“Under the mattress... Really?” Harry asked.
“That's all that's left,” Roach pleaded, “now leave us alone!”
“There's just one more thing,” Charlie said as he produced a pair of handheld gardening sheers. “Which one of you broke my brother's hand?”
“Well that's the last one,” Sam said as he hung up the recently purchased burner phone. “We've got three pick-ups each tonight, and the last one we can do together. Remember, be subtle, be unassuming. You sure you're up for this?” he asked Jake.
“Yeah, the pain's almost gone. I got my pocket knife, just incase,” came the reply.
“You want a gun? Just incase...” Solomon asked.
“I'm good,” Jake said.
The three of them made their way into the night with a list of locations in their pocket; trashcans, park benches, the underside of cars, all the places they had told their victims to leave the money. The night progressed without incident. They collected their three packages each, with ample precaution before and afterwards. The last appointment for the night was scheduled for two hours past midnight. The location was in an underground parking garage near the shopping centre. The figure was fourteen-thousand-dollars, the largest of the night, hence the precaution of doing it together.
The large garage was scattered with small clusters of cars through out. The dim lighting amplified the emptiness of the vast open area. The three of them listened intently and moved silently. Solomon gripped a Snub-Nosed Revolver in his jacket pocket.
“Green-4. Spot 53,” Sam repeated to himself under his breath as they made their way towards the drop point. The three of them shared the fee
ling of regret for choosing that particular location; the fingertips of fear reached for each of them.
“This doesn't feel right,” Jake whispered.
“We're already here, let's just get it over with,” Sam replied.
Jake jerked his head over his shoulder, did he hear something? He wasn't sure.
“Will you relax, you're making me nervous,” Solomon said.
They approached space 53. The old dark green station wagon which had occupied the same spot for almost a year now. They stood around the trunk, still hyper alert to their surroundings.
“Get it,” Sam said to Solomon.
“Get it,” Solomon said to Jake.
Jake rubbed his ribs as if to say the pain would be too much. Solomon exhaled then dropped to his knees and looked under the car. A sound reached Jake's ears. His eyes shot left to the sea of empty spaces and still cars.
“Did you hear that?” Jake whispered.
“I heard something,” Sam replied grimly. “Hurry up Solo.”
Jake heard it again, a click. Distant yet close. Similar to the clicking he had heard while they had been playing sleuth photographer. That of a shutter opening and closing in a split second.
“Got it,” Solomon said as he rose to his feet with a canvas bag in his hand.
The three of them paced back the way they had come, checking over their shoulders every few meters. Once they reached the open, they ran across the street and disappeared through the park.
“It's all in there?” Jake