Chapter 18 – Make Haste

“Well that was anticlimactic. Not even a drink in before the untimely death.” He thought to himself. 

There were several questions on Emerson’s mind.What was the plan to dispose of the  body? Where were the documents pertaining to Mr. Aquitaine? When will someone come to check on her? 

It was a rather small apartment in such a picturesque city. As he developed a plan to move her out of the room, unseen, he grabbed a pair of gloves from the breast pocket of his suit and started to rummage through her things for any information that had to do with his employer. This was a time-sensitive engagement. 

Right then, Emerson’s phone buzzed. It was a text. “Hey hope your plans have cleared up by now ;).” Ugh the timing of it all, why did Duncan text that moment. He was too busy with the task at hand to respond. 

Emerson knew this much. It was a Friday evening. There was still time to stage a grand exit of one Ms. Caroline. With all of her place at his disposal, it was the perfect scene. He would pack a bag for her, as if she was heading out of town for time. She would be visiting family of some sort. He raided her office for credit card information and passcodes to access her laptop to buy a one way ticket to Montreal to see a sick relative. He  lugged her body into the bedroom to change her out of a spectacular evening gown to something more transportation appropriate. It was to her demise that she used a web browser that saved all of her login information so it was easy pickings for Emerson. A text here, email there, and they were almost set to go. 

“The documents, where are they?” He thought to himself. As he peered around the room, Emerson realized there wasn’t enough time to look through the entire apartment. He would give himself 15 minutes before scrubbing the place of his existence, good thing piano wire leaves little mess. 

After rifling through various drawers and cabinets in the unkept office, he had given up. Though perhaps it wasn’t a physical copy of the information that Ms. Caroline had. Out of his pocket, Emerson plugged a flash drive into her laptop and uploaded as much information as he could. 

The antique clock struck 11 PM. It was still early in the night as the body grew colder, he knew it was time to vacate the space. Lights off and the keys in his hands, he lugged the woman and the suitcase down the stairs. Unseen, once outside he hid in an alley to devise the next act in his plot. This was again an unforeseen series of events. 

Though our executioner of the night liked the attention of his craftsmanship at times, this was not the night for it. The best option was a dumpster that laid right before his eyes. He dismissed the idea because it was too obvious and beneath him. 

He was an established assassin for hire. Thinking on his feet was what he did best. He scoured the landscape to view other possible avenues. That was when he saw the lights from the shipping yard just blocks away. It was on route to the nearby airport and If he could get her lifeless body and the suitcase to that location, then he could make it look like a robbery gone wrong. 

Emerson got situated before he started to carry her over his shoulder as to make it seem like a drunk woman who had had too much to drink. He proceeded to the docks, sticking to the shadows. Once at the point of separation, Emerson pulled a knife from his suit jacket and gave her a couple of gashes, took her wallet, and valuables. It was the most rudimental job to date. 

He wiped the blood off on her blouse and left her at the scene of the crime. Disappearing into the night as always. Creatures of the night had similar habits. To forget about all that had happened and get on with their life. What they had done was for money, for a chance at a better life they had been living. 

Once back at his flat, he disposed of any evidence that he gathered from her apartment and off him. Though this meant another credit would be subtracted from his account, Emerson thought his employer would not be pleased with the publicity that might come from tonight’s activities. 

With a bit of excitement or perhaps the espresso running through his veins, he grabbed one of the uncorked wines and poured himself a glass. With the glass in hand, he made his way to the bathroom and striped down. After tonight’s festivities, he felt incomplete, as though he had made some mistake along the way. It was something a nice hot shower could fix. 

He turned the shower on and gulped his first sip of wine. Combining his fingers under the warm water, he found himself in a moment of content. Another deed done, another credit deducted from his contract, and a step closer to freedom. Freedom from this occupation. It was what Emerson wanted for some time.