The Child Assassin

“Would Mr. Jon Burrows please rise. Mr. Burrows to the charge of kidnapping and murder in the 1st degree, how do you plead?”
         “Guilty,” I said, trying my best not to smile at her use of my cover name.
         “Very Well. The sentence is life in prison; no parole. This court is adjourned.”
         They led me down a long narrow hallway and into the back of a police car. We arrived at the jail where they thoroughly searched me and threw me in a cell. Things moved slow this time, and I had to serve three days of my sentence. On the third day my friend Robert Hall showed up with two guards. I was free.
         “What took you so long?” I asked.
         “Well,” answered Robert, “To be honest we sort of forgot about you.”
         “Thanks, that’s reassuring,” I said. “Are you bringing me home?”
         “Well you need to fill out the paperwork back at headquarters and---”
         “Rob, you know my family comes first.” And it did. I hadn’t seen my family in almost three weeks. My son, Jacob, is nine years old and the apple of my eye. We spend every moment together, throwing the football or playing tag. It’s amazing how such a small body can store so many thoughts and so much energy. Then again if that wasn’t true my job would be obsolete.
         I may spend days with my son but nights belong to my wife, Vanessa. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen, I always thought our looks were unevenly matched and counted myself lucky to have a woman like her. Neither of them knows what my job is, hell, not even the President knows. I work for a secret department headed up by J. Edgar Hoover himself in an attempt to stop all future terrorists. In our possession---the headquarters that is---there is a machine. It is a great computer, capable of scanning every child in America twice a day. Its job: to find all future murderers, rapists and terrorists; and it’s our job to find and kill them. I remember my first assignment; I couldn’t believe that such a beautiful 4 year old could grow to be a heinous criminal. Yet we are told that the machine is never wrong, that it has been tested to the fullest and contains no flaws nor ever will.
         I arrive at home to my son playing Frisbee with some of the neighbor kids. He see’s me and runs over.
         “Hey dad! Did you bring me anything?”
         “Not this time Jake. Just this big hug!” I lift him up and squeeze so tight that he begs me to let go.
         “Can I finish playing with my friends?”
         “Sure buddy.”
         “Then later can we play catch or something?”
         “You bet,” I say.
         I head into the kitchen, my wife’s hips moving rhythmically as she stirs whatever’s on the stove. I sneak up and put my hands over her shoulders, resting them on her breasts.
         “Oh Lance, you’re home!” We kiss; a preview of that night.
         I played with Jacob every day and slept with my wife every night for my two weeks of vacation. A perfect life. However, nothing lasts and before I knew it the two weeks were over and I was headed to Headquarters for my next assignment. The computer had detected a boy in Florida not yet five years old. A future pedophile-murderer.
         I arrived the next day. The blistering heat welcomed me, or at least it was blistering compared to the cool breezes that frequent Massachusetts. The house was easy to find and quite stereotypical. Cheap wooden planks made up the majority of the house, most of which had fallen off or were close to it. Windows were broken; curtains’ trying to make up for it, and the left side of the porch had caved in. I waited till dark then moved, sneaking to the first floor window where the child slept. His bed was right under the window. I grabbed a knife from my belt and within seconds a disaster had been avoided; and better yet, I had gotten away with it. Those were the best kinds of assignments, the ones where you didn’t have to go through court. It’s really a pain in the ass to go to court. But because I had avoided that hassle I could go back home and take three weeks off. That’s how it worked; you finish an assignment then get three weeks off. If you get caught and go to jail, then that cuts in to your three weeks. Usually it never takes more than one week for them to get you out though; as long as you plead guilty.

         During my second week home I heard a thump downstairs; as Vanessa and I made thumps of our own. Earlier that day Jacob and I had built a tree house. Everything I did would merit a marvel at how I could be so smart, so strong. It felt great to have someone so young, so pure look up to you like that. Jacob slept in the tree house now. I grabbed a pistol from under my bed and ran downstairs. The front window was broken. Whoever did this had been clumsy. I looked around the house and saw a figure in Jacobs’s bedroom reaching around. A knife lay on his belt. Without a moments hesitation I tackled him to the ground. He let out a yelp then kneed me in the gut. All the air left my lungs. I heard Vanessa coming downstairs then scream. The masked man attempted to run but I reached up and grabbed his leg. I pulled myself on top of him, drew his own knife and put it to his throat.
         “Vanessa, call the cops. We---” I stopped. There was something very familiar about his eyes and that scream he had given. I pulled off the mask and beheld Robert Hall’s sweat drenched face.
         Struggling for air, he spoke up. “I’m sorry Lance…sorry…I got my assignment today…”
         “And!?!”
         “The computer picked out your son.”