Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1


         It was still raining.  Pouring for days now, the sheets falling from the sky showed no signs of halting.  The view out into the night air seemed eternally obscured from the second story window which held behind it the man who had by now been pacing for hours.  The badge on the jacket hanging from the bedpost read “HI.  MY NAME IS RICHARD.  HOW MAY I HELP?” in happy letters, probably to make you feel better about paying too much for a soda or a pack of cigarettes.  Richard kept quiet as he surveyed the room.  His quarters, which had just days before been foreign to his eyes, had become his nest away from the world.  He could now describe it under duress.  The single wooden bed near the corner was as hard as potato soup and stayed unmade.  A tarnished brass lamp, a half-full ashtray, and an antique telephone all rested on the sole nightstand in the room, and all light came from that source.  Aside from the map of some obscure town on the eastern coast framed and hanging on the wall above the bed, the rest of this safe haven for Richard was stark and bare.
         Pausing in mid-stride, Richard fixed his stare on the phone.  “Of course it's working!” he bellowed, just before snatching up the receive to check for a dial tone.  The result had been the same the dozens of times he checked before.  It was still working.  He was still waiting.  'Had the danger passed?' he thought.  'Was it safe?'
         The slam of the front door broke hard and swift through the silence which seemed eons old.  Richard, frozen in time, stood quietly and waited to hear the next move from whoever was violating his security.  Feigning absence would have been futile; he had been passing the well lit window for hours, and the whole world was free to see him.  The boom from heavy boots hitting hardwood floors caused Richard to wince with each fresh step.  Slowly, Richard eased his way back into the corner by the bed, stopping only long enough to withdraw a glistening new revolver from his name-tagged jacket.  Careful to make the old floors speak quietly under his weight, he nestled himself into his new stronghold.  With the door and only entrance into the room a mere ten feet from him, a clean shot to the head of any invader should prove simple, if only his hand would stay as still as his target.  Richard drew up, aimed, and waited. 
         The crack of the first stair stung Richard's ears.  The stride of this ambiguity was fast and strong up the path that would break Richard's calm and safety.  Otherwise paralyzed, his hand tensed around the butt of the weapon, squeezing the trigger to the brink.  The floor shook as the crushing weight of the runner reached the second floor.  Ten feet to the door, and ten more to Richard was too close.  Whose life would come to a close in the time it took to take the stranger's few remaining strides?
          The moan of the brass knob giving way under the fury and pressure of this guest was beyond the point of control for Richard's trigger happy finger.  A bullet leaving the barrel of a gun does so at least at the speed of sound, creating a miniature sonic boom.  A bedroom is far from sufficient space for the sound to escape, so the echo deafened Richard instantaneously.  A hole smoked in the door about chest high and the doorknob was no longer turning, but he could not hear whether the sound outside his room had ceased.  Muted by the ringing in his ears, the full weight of the target finally toppled heavy and fast to the hard cold floor, and the first trickle of blood crossed the threshold.  Richard released the trigger.
         Now shaking as the shock of a narrow escape was setting in, his hearing regained it's balance and Richard heard his beloved silence once again.  A flash from outside brought instant thunder and the single light in the room flickered and died.  He added the dark to the silence that  gave him such comfort.  “Send another errand boy, you bastard!  Now he won't see me coming!”  The war cry bounced through the house, but Richard knew that the threat was gone - at least for now.
         The peace and quiet was cut short as the phone's ring ripped through the darkness.  The gun, still in Richard's hand, barked off another shot and left a hole the size of a quarter in the floor an inch from his bare foot.  Tossing the gun down on the bed, he caressed the floor on his way to the phone, fully in the habit of controlling the wood's crackling voice.  Bringing the receiver to his ear, he  waited to hear his first contact in days.
         “Hello my cowardly friend.  How are you this evening?” 
         Richard stayed quiet, stunned to hear the voice he hoped to never hear again.
         “I know you're there, Richard.  I will recognize the craven panting of my adversary until my own breath fails.  Listen closely for a moment, will you?.  I promise to make this brief.”
         “I'm listening.”  Richard's reply was booming as he compensated for the buzz in his ear.  “What do you want?” 
         “I finally had the opportunity to speak to your friend, the one you sent to perish in your stead.  I found him to be a most honorable man, unlike his employer.  He told me such a sad story, Richard, of how ashamed you were and how you wanted so badly to correct the wrong that you have done me.  Is this ringing any bells?”
         Silence.
         “I'll take that as a yes.  John, if that indeed was his name, told me that although you remain  hidden with the bulk of what was stored in my safe, you now felt remorse and were willing to return it  to forego any further recourse.”
         “Yes.  Yes, I suppose that's it - in a nutshell.”
         “Well, as happy as I would be to have my belongings back, what about the men that you killed while you stole from me?  The last time I checked, my men were disposing of three employees that were very loyal to me, and one man hasn't even been found yet.  How can I be repaid for that, Richard?”
         “I gave you John, and then I'll give you the files back.  I assumed that my best man and the safe return of your wealth would balance the scales between you and me.”  Richard smiled, finally having the power to negotiate with a man who had the will and way to hunt a man for years.
         “That's very intriguing, Richard.  Did you think of this on your own, or did your friend volunteer to die in your place?”
         Richard's spine quaked as he thought of his loyal friend lying face down in a ditch.  “I don't see how that matters.  This arrangement makes it even.”
         “I think you're right, Richard.  This arrangement could even things up between you and I.    I think, though, that I would rather have a little fun instead.  Wouldn't you?”
         Sweat began to bead on Richard's brow.
         “I was well aware of the deal you were trying to make when you sent John to me.” the voice continued.  “I thought that it would be much more interesting if I sent him back to you in one piece.  I had a nice long chat with you friend John, and told him in great detail what I expected form you in order to save your own skin.”
         Sweat now trickled from his palms.  The plan and the man he was willing to sacrifice were on their way back to him, and Richard feared doom was coming with them.
         “I like you Richard, so although I can not honor this timorous contract, I think I'll give you one final chance.  On the way back to you as we speak is your friend, who possesses the knowledge that will liberate you.  Listen to him carefully, and act fast.  Fifteen minutes behind John I have sent a man that was instructed to eliminate you both.  If he finds you there, or if you don't follow my instructions to the letter, your lives will not be long ones.  Have I made myself clear, Richard?”
         “Yes.  I understand.”  Richard sat down on the soggy bed and closed his eyes.  “But why should I wait?  Tell me now and I'll be out of your hair forever.” 
         “This is my deal and these are my rules.  Wait for your friend and do as he says.  Goodbye, my friend, and good luck.”
         Richard heard the line click dead and hung up the receiver.  The dark and the silence that he held so dear were now closing in.  The lightening that danced on the walls now held death within the shadows.  The quiet amplified the mysteries that hung in every creek and moan of the house that was once his fortress.  He could do nothing more than wait.  He groped for his cigarettes and lit one with a hand that could barely hold a lighter.  Richard's gaze locked on the door that held back whatever fury was lying dead on the floor outside.
         
         'What now?'  Richard ground out the cigarette he just lit. 

         The front door quietly opened, and closed...


Chapter 2?