The Night Stalker

Ninety-Seven

The room he was in was illuminated only by candles — twelve in total. Their flames flickered in an unsynchronized dance, bouncing shadows against the walls. He raised his eyes towards his naked body reflected in the large wall mirror. Bare feet on a cold cement floor, strong legs, broad shoulders, athletic body and icy cold eyes. He stared at his face for a long while, analyzing it carefully before twisting his body left, then right, checking his back.

He walked over to the table on the corner and picked up one of the many pre-paid cell phones on it, dialing a number he knew by heart.

It rang twice before it was answered by a calm but firm voice.

‘Do you have the information I asked you for?’ he asked, his eyes moving to the workstation in front of him.

‘Yes, it wasn’t a problem.’

He listened carefully.

The information was more surprising than upsetting, but his face displayed no signs of anxiety. He disconnected and ran his right hand over the large blood-coated needle and thread he’d left on the workstation.

He’d have to change his course of action, adapt, and he didn’t like change. Deviating from well-laid plans meant increasing his risk, but right now, he wasn’t sure it mattered any more.

He checked his watch. He knew exactly where she’d be in a few hours’ time. The information had been so easy to come by it made him laugh.

He faced the mirror once again and stared deep into his own eyes.

It was time to do it again.