Right Place Right Time

There was absolute silence in the bar for a second or so and then people were screaming and diving for cover; the general panic was understandable as I had just shot dead one of their number. But I suspected that for most of them, violence was not exactly unusual. Then one of men came lurching towards me; I levelled the gun at him.

“Don’t even think about it, mate,” I said. Fortunately he stopped; I was relieved as I had no wish to kill him as well. I left the pub and glanced around. It seemed clear so I whipped off my black anorak and stuffed it in my back-pack. I set off to walk to the tube station. I walked briskly but not so quickly as to draw attention to myself. It was only five mins walk; I knew that as I had done it the day before but I leave nothing to chance. Soon I could see the familiar underground logo. I ducked down a side street; once again it was clear. I took off my dark sweater leaving me down to my white shirt and also my plain glass spectacles and my wig. I smiled; I doubted whether my dear old mum would have known me a few mins earlier. I entered the station and was soon on the tube taking me to Victoria for my train home. I studiously ignored my fellow- travellers and they took no notice of me but why would they? I appeared to be an average guy heading home and they had no reason to suspect I had just killed someone. And I of course did nothing that might give people cause to remember me.

We soon reached Victoria and before long I emerged onto the station concourse; suddenly I heard a commotion and cries of fear. Instinctively I quickened my pace to see a man waving a long-bladed knife and there were two men lying in pools of blood.

“Stop right there,” I shouted as I pointed my gun at him. “Drop that knife.” He gave me a look of pure hatred and started to come towards me; he clearly thought I was his next victim.

“I said drop it.” He took no notice; when he was three foot away I shot him twice in the head and he fell to the ground. All around people were screaming as I turned around and back towards the underground. Luckily no one tried to stop me or question me. I went through the barriers and when down a passageway with no cameras, stopped to put on my anorak and this time my dark glasses; then being duly re-disguised, I made my way home by a different route.

Once back I immediately took my burner phone and dialled a number; I let it ring four times before I rang off; within seconds came a reply showing on the screen a pre-arranged number. It rang just four times. I smiled; I knew the message had been understood and my fee was on its way to my bank account. Then I put all my clothes in the wash in case of gunpowder residue and had a long shower to wash away any possible DNA traces. But after I could not resist checking the news. Three were reported dead at Victoria but police were trying to trace a mystery gunman who shot dead a man suspected of murdering two commuters. He was described in some reports as a “have-a-go” hero; I rather liked that but was not likely to collect any reward or help with enquiries. I was pleased to note that the descriptions issued bore no resemblance to me. It was almost a footnote later that a man had been shot dead in a pub; it was clear that the police had no reason to link the two killings. I poured myself a large glass of wine and sat down to relax. But then my phone pinged with a text; I checked it and saw there was another job for me. I shrugged; it was better than working for a living. 

by Tony Roberts