Return

The Man with the Paper looked at the crumpled form in front of him. The blood running silently down his face, the slight dilation of the eyes as the life behind them ebbed away, flowing with the blood from the hole in his forehead. The Man with the Paper smiled. A true Russian, his death having meaning for another life.

Akimoto would be pleased with the unexpected money, he would eventually forget his young Russian friend, and life would go on. He would leave this city, indulge his grandchildren, perhaps try and expand his noodle business somewhere else. The Man with the Paper smiled at the thought, an old Japanese man, given a new lease on life from the boy who now lay dead.

A siren screeched through the night, which before had been silent, but for the rain. The Man with the Paper turned, at the other end of the park, near the playground, he saw movement. He tucked the gun into his paper and walked over, briefly stepping into a puddle to remove any blood. The sirens grew louder, the red lights of an ambulance, combined with the blue of a police car suddenly blinded him as both raced around the corner. Men ran forward. The Man with the Paper stepped back, his eyes widening slightly, how could these simple law enforcers have learned…?

His fear was short lived; the men were running to the slide, where two forms were crouched. One was lifted, and the Man with the Paper recognized the fortune teller as the red light of the ambulance fell on her tired face. The file could be closed on her then. Others were present, the cop, he would be transferring soon, the couple, skipping town on a bus, it would seem. The Man with the Paper knew them all, having read David’s files.

He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a single greyhound ticket, this was his bus. He clambered aboard; waved away the driver’s offered hand as he gripped the railing. Might as well pretend to be the frail old man so many took him to be. He wheezed a little, deciding to play the part up; he might as well have fun. He climbed into one of the deep seats, rainwater still running from his shoes and coat. He covertly slid the gun into an inner-coat pocket, and then looked around. The couple sat a few rows behind him, on the opposite side. His eyes briefly settled on them, and they looked up in the manner of people who are aware they have caught someone’s interest. He gave them a small smile and nod, and then turned to took out the window.

The ambulance was pulling away, lights now off. The cop was standing, looking at the slide, letting the rain pour over him, lost in thought it would seem. A dark figure was being escorted from the scene as the police began rolling up the yellow tape, it must have been the first person on the scene. The drunk vomited into the bushes, he would regret his drinking in the morning.

The Man with the Paper pulled out a phone, and hit the two key, it rang only once before he got a reply.

“Da?”

“*supervisor, mission accomplished. Secondary rout taken, materials secured, requesting collection team dispatched to subject’s dwelling to retrieve secondary objectives.*”

“*Confirmed, dispatch en-rout. Anything else to report?*”

“*Yes, I would like the subject’s total funds and liquid able assets transferred to the custody of Jiro Akimoto.*”

“*Confirmed. Why?*”

“*Last request of the subject.*”

“*He detected you!?*”

“*Almost instantly. He was trained in the same system as me, he knows all the tricks, I’m not too surprised. No, I went with the secondary option at his request.*”

“*At his!?... Very well, transport awaits you in Cleveland, meet the dispatch team there and give them a full briefing, then report to your commander once you return to Moscow. The transfer of funds will take place as-per your request.*”

“*Thank you…*”

The phone cut off.

“…comrade.”

The Man with the Paper looked around, nobody was looking at him. He settled back into his chair, opened his paper, and began reading it for the first time... A column caught his eye.

“Sharashka…”