Charles was devastated. It was the first time he could not fulfill his mission. He was still wondering why he did not shoot the lady the very minute he saw her. He could not hide his surprise as she push the gun away from her face. She was talking to him like a mother would do to his guilty cookie stealer of a kid. He almost fell on his knees and ask for forgiveness. He tried to shake himself out of this spell but swam in a foggy feeling of childish fear. He took three steps back, keeping his eyes on the woman, and waited for the next thing to happen, whatever it was going to be.
“It was Sterling, right?” she said, “Donald E. Sterling, CEO of DESART, the modern Frankenstein!”
“Frankenstein? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t know any Sterling or DESART.”
“Of course you don’t. He has probably hired an agency who’s dealing with some subsidiary that calls one anonymous office downtown New-York who knows you, the great killer with no balls except in this barrel! Funny thing is that I am getting used to this but somehow, someday, he is going to get through his mean endeavors. Not your fault, sweetie but better chance next time.”
She started to walk away and Charles really didn’t know what to do next. At first, he thought that it would be better to shoot the girl and, like they say, take the money and run, just forget about that moment of fear, but it was just not right. Something was odd in this situation. He intended to get it all clear befor eitheer leave or terminate her.
« Wait, wait, wait. Hold on to your horse, lady. Where in the world do you think you’re going? »
She turned slowly toward him, showing this mesmerizing smile of hers. Then he knew it was going to be him or her, simple as that.
She approached him rather slowly, making every step as if she was walking on some icy spot. She looked at him with a strange desire that almost made him turn around and run like hell. But he froze, keeping his breathing to a strict basic living reflex. A prey watching his killer ready to jump at his throat.