Tuesday, 20th January 2004
Last updated Tuesday, 20th January 2004
As the ferry left the dock, Tom took out his knife. In these modern times most assassins preferred a gun. Actually the word 'gun' is a weak description of a weapon so advanced it can be fitted with telescopic lenses, a body built from titanium, and loaded with platinum coated bullets for the purpose of aerodynamics and quick penetration. For Tom, who majored in the human anatomy there was just too much physics involved in these modern weapons.
For him the knife was the simplest weapon of destruction. There was something more intimate about a knife. For one, you could never attack your target hiding miles away. It was always up close and personal. And you could decide how bloody you wanted a crime scene to look. The right angle, a clean cut, the twisting of the blade as it butchered a vital organs did the trick. However, when the living needed a wake-up call from the dead, there where all sorts of ways to slice up a human body. Yes, the knife was Tom's only choice of weapon. It never let him loose control. And that's the way he liked it.
Despite the cold crisp evening air, the blade glistened. And Chandler's sweaty face glistened as brightly as the blade. Tom watched him for a while. It was interesting how guilt, more deadly than a knife was slowly drawing life out of Chandler. His only salvation was getting Milo. And what if he, Tom robbed him of his only shot at living?
He laughed silently, held the knife in his right palm. Their time was up. And he Tom, the mastermind of the most deadly weapon on earth was on his way to claim what was rightfully his. The necklace.