Post by Union Jack on Oct 23, 2019 19:32:42 GMT -5
Note: If you haven't already, please read 'Mark Mitchell - The Funeral
' first.
September 18th, 2019
Atlanta, GA.
The day was warm and the air arid as I perched atop the Neuroscience Institute building in downtown Atlanta. It was the third day I had spent here, and the third day I hoped that it would not be the last. As the sun neared it’s peak I climbed to my feet, dusted off my pants and crossed over to the AC unit I had been pretending to fix for the past three days, trying my best to look inconspicuous as I scanned the windows overlooking my vantage point for anyone who might be suspicious of my presence. I grabbed a wrench and went to work on the gently humming unit, clanging several pipes and tracing hoses as I did my best to look convincing.
As midday struck, I put down the tools and prepared to leave, safely satisfied that once again today was a missed opportunity. That’s when my phone rang. I froze… slowly looked down at the screen and considered letting the call go to voicemail. Reluctantly, I grabbed the phone and answered the call. After a brief hesitation “Yes?”
“Yes?” The voice on the other end of the call chuckled. “Is that the way you greet your employer, boy?”
“Sorry.” I sighed. “I wasn’t expecting the call to come this late.”
“It’s quite alright Mr. Morgan. Believe me, I understand your frustrations… I’ve been experiencing them myself.” He chuckled again. “The good news is, that is all over.”
“Really?” A grin spread quickly across my face. “So you’ve reconsidered? It’s been called off?”
“Called off?” His laugh was boomingly loud. “Heavens no! Quite the opposite… He’s on his way; You have a go!”
The world ground to a sudden halt as the stark realization of his words hit me.
“Mr. Reynolds… are you sure about this?” The moisture in my mouth had completely evaporated and I sat heavily against the AC Unit, my shaking legs threatening to buckle under my weight.
“Boy, I’m positive.” His tone was cold and serious. “And you’d do well to never question me again.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, Sir.” I sighed, my head hanging helplessly. “How long?”
“According to my people, he will be there in five minutes.” A moment of silence followed as he weighed his words carefully. Finally, he continued… “Mr. Morgan… I need to make something very, very clear to you. You will not miss. Do you understand? Vincent McKlayn dies today!”
“I understand…” The words seemed to ring on into eternity as I crossed the rooftop to the waiting gun case.
' first.
September 18th, 2019
Atlanta, GA.
The day was warm and the air arid as I perched atop the Neuroscience Institute building in downtown Atlanta. It was the third day I had spent here, and the third day I hoped that it would not be the last. As the sun neared it’s peak I climbed to my feet, dusted off my pants and crossed over to the AC unit I had been pretending to fix for the past three days, trying my best to look inconspicuous as I scanned the windows overlooking my vantage point for anyone who might be suspicious of my presence. I grabbed a wrench and went to work on the gently humming unit, clanging several pipes and tracing hoses as I did my best to look convincing.
As midday struck, I put down the tools and prepared to leave, safely satisfied that once again today was a missed opportunity. That’s when my phone rang. I froze… slowly looked down at the screen and considered letting the call go to voicemail. Reluctantly, I grabbed the phone and answered the call. After a brief hesitation “Yes?”
“Yes?” The voice on the other end of the call chuckled. “Is that the way you greet your employer, boy?”
“Sorry.” I sighed. “I wasn’t expecting the call to come this late.”
“It’s quite alright Mr. Morgan. Believe me, I understand your frustrations… I’ve been experiencing them myself.” He chuckled again. “The good news is, that is all over.”
“Really?” A grin spread quickly across my face. “So you’ve reconsidered? It’s been called off?”
“Called off?” His laugh was boomingly loud. “Heavens no! Quite the opposite… He’s on his way; You have a go!”
The world ground to a sudden halt as the stark realization of his words hit me.
“Mr. Reynolds… are you sure about this?” The moisture in my mouth had completely evaporated and I sat heavily against the AC Unit, my shaking legs threatening to buckle under my weight.
“Boy, I’m positive.” His tone was cold and serious. “And you’d do well to never question me again.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, Sir.” I sighed, my head hanging helplessly. “How long?”
“According to my people, he will be there in five minutes.” A moment of silence followed as he weighed his words carefully. Finally, he continued… “Mr. Morgan… I need to make something very, very clear to you. You will not miss. Do you understand? Vincent McKlayn dies today!”
“I understand…” The words seemed to ring on into eternity as I crossed the rooftop to the waiting gun case.