Turk unlatched the window lock easily, and the wood, double-hung window opened quietly thanks to the spray lubricant that he had applied around the sash. He signalled his partner, Rajz, who had stayed hidden by some trash cans in the walkway, that the coast was clear. Rajz kept down as he scurried up to the window that Turk had jimmied open. The two men each slipped into the window quietly, and looked around the dark room. So far, so good, Turk thought.
It was a high-paying job; one Turk felt could be pulled off without being caught. They had got the job from a high-ranking member of the Army of the Caucasian Man, their white supremacist group. The job was to kill a black man named Gordon Greene, and to make the murder look like a burglary gone wrong. But a major part of the job was to steal Greene’s computer and any disks or back-ups.
Turk did have worries about his partner, Oswald Rajz; he really didn’t know him well enough to be able to predict his actions. Besides, the man simply creeped him out. He looked like a zombie; he was skinny as a rail with colorless, gray skin that seemed to show every blue vein underneath it. His ratty white hair and charcoal colored eyes with tiny irises that seemed to be in a state of constant stare. Turk , in contrast, could be a poster boy for the Fourth Reich if not for the missing part of his left earlobe that he had lost to one of his father’s pit bulls as a toddler.
Rajz pointed for Turk to check upstairs, while Rajz searched the ground floor. Turk pulled out his Keltec P11 9mm Luger automatic as he started up the stairs; this Gordon Greene, he hoped, would be asleep in one of the second floor bedrooms.
Turk’s vision struggled in the darkness of the upstairs hallway. Not wanting to trip over an unseen object, he pulled out and lit a pin light with his free hand. The light showed the hall had five doors: two open, three closed. Turk checked the first open door; it was a bathroom. Peeking through the second, Turk saw the computer, the screen lit with colored graphs creating an odd, surrealistic glow to the room. Turk moved into the room and toward the computer. He aimed the pin light across to the desk with the computer. He found an external hard drive and a couple of jump drives, everything his instructions said to steal. “This must be my lucky day.” Turk whispered.
“It is if this is the day you were hoping to die.”
Turk’s heart choked as he spun to see from where the voice came. The pin light’s beam hit Gordon Greene, standing in the corner behind the door completely naked and armed with a huge broadsword. A wide, crazy smile formed on Greene’s face as he said, “I love it when I have an excuse to kill someone.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish