Shadows in the Night
Part Three: Live by the Sword...
If anybody ever walked into the Public Library, located across the street from the police station, they would have seen a large collection of old books, freezing air conditioning, even in the winter, and a sleeping librarian.
If they ever decided to sneak past the librarian, ignore the 'Employees Only' sign, and go to the roof, they would have seen several large AC units, vents, and 2 generators. If anybody decided to go on top of the roof after the murder of the Police Sargeant, would have found a single cartridge to a L115A3 Sniper Rifle.
The L115A3 Sniper Rifle fires an 8.59mm bullet which is heavier than the 7.62mm round of the previous L96 and hence less likely to be deflected over extremely long ranges. Put the 6.8kg rifle in the right hands and it can hit a human-sized target from 1400 metres.
It was a wonder the round, from such a close prozimity of only 75 feet, hadn't blown Jeralds head off.
Right now, the assasin-cum-burgular was walking about 3,000 miles away in New York City. After flying bussiness class to La Guardia International Airport, the Gentleman was standing in an alleyway just off of Broad Way.
The Gentleman got his name for two reasons. One, because in his profession, if anybody knew your real name, you were as good as dead. And two, because he had a habit of not killing people in his assignments unless told other wise. He had been told in his previous assignment to kill the Guard, but not the Huangs.
When most 'employers' learn that the Gentleman rarely killed people, they think that he's soft or shows too much mercy. The reason why the Gentleman really rarely kills people is because the Gentleman suffers from a large ego. You bust in somebody room in the middle of the night, scare the crap out of them, and let them live, the victims will spread stories about how the Gentleman came into their room.
Over time, these stories will become exagerated, warped by the many people telling them, and it goes from busting in to lifting the roof off with a helicopter and dropping in.
The Gentleman, whose real Name was Ian Swartzkoph, was a quite, mild-mannered man, in his late twentys.. He was a fisherman, working on various boats fishing for swords. On the off season, he was a painter, and most people, after leaving his small yet homely apartment, remember most distinclty the mounds of impressionist art, and Ian's distinct hatred of any classical pieces.
The apartment where Ian lived was small, only 3 rooms, and contained worn but comfortable peices of furnature. Scattered throughout the apartment were stacks of art, Ians own creation. Worn Chairs, shelves, almost every availible surface had atleast something that related to Ians art.
Ian was reclining on his sofa, above which hung a large taxidermied swordfish. It was a monster, nearly 14 feet long, which Ian had caught when he was a mere boy, only 17 years old. The fishing trip had been a gift from his late father, pennace for the missed birthdays, child alimonies, and holidays that resulted from his dad living in Nevada after his parents divorce when Ian was 9.
His first kill was his father.
Over the years, termites had invaded the apartment building where Ian lived. They had eaten through the wood supports of the building, and eventually into parts of the walls. It was just bad luck that the section of wall supporting the stuffed sword fish had deterioted from a combination of dry rot, old age, and termites. While Ian was napping on the couch, the wall eventually gave way, sending the sword fish, head first, towards the sofa, and on it, Ian.
Police arrived several days later due to calls from a disturbed neighbor, saying Ian hadnt left his apartment in almost two weeks.
Shortly therafter, police discovered that Ian Swartzkoph, was not lower middle-class man he claimed to be. He had, infact, accumulated over 7.5 Million dollars in the past decade.
