The Filters 8

 The sickly sky foamed at the mouth with dark clouds and a foreboding wind wailed through the ear drums of all who cared to listen. Jesse sat in a Black BMW four houses away from Hakims apartment and felt at one with the weather.He watched through tinted window as school children ran  to their homes, ostensibly trying to beat the rain but secretly hoping it beat them instead. The seats surrounding him  were filled with goons, all reeking with anticipation. They were silent, as the wind beat against the cars windows, begging to be let in. They were silent as an old man in an old Audi crawled to a halt and eyed them suspiciously. They were silent as he drove off, but Jude memorised his plates.

They were silent.

They were silent, because such was the respect owed to the dead, and the dead to be.

      ******Three Hours Earlier*******

"Remember, we want to make this quick and quiet, we don't know the level of opposition we would face, but visual and audio Intel suggests there are at least five other males in Hakims apartment, we shoot to kill,  leave no evidence and take no souvenirs."

The goons listened attentively but really only heard one word. Kill.

Jesse looked each of them in the eye.He always felt nostalgic during these sort of missions, nostalgic and sad.Because in those eyes he knew he would  never see brotherhood, faith or loyalty, they were all of them hired guns, and would gladly turn on the other for the same amount that bound them together. This was no team, but it would have to do. Jude walked into the room and beckoned him with a nod, they walked out of the building together, the sky overhead was clear, but the air was humid, Jesse made a mental note to carry an umbrella, it was arbitrary, but he always felt that arbitrary things were what kept a man rooted in sanity. Jude sat on the bonnet of his car, and Jesse lowered his elbows beside him.

"What's up?" Jesse asked with a brow raised in concern.

"I hate this."

"What are you talking about?We've killed operatives before, he had it coming, this isn't your fault."

Jude procured a cigarette from his back pocket and placed it between his lips."Yeah well, that's not what I'm talking about." He lit the cigarette, inhaled, then let the white horses of stress gallop out of his nostrils.

Jesse chuckled.

"What?"

"We've grown soft in our old age."

Jude snortled and inhaled. "Speak for yourself. I'm not old, but I'm not the young reckless boy I used to be either." He exhaled, looked searchingly into thin air and muttered almost to himself." Now if only my father could see that..."

"So serious, what's bothering you?"

"His just sitting there, like a duck."

"You mean Hakim?You think his waiting for us?."

"I don't know, but he hasn't left his house for the past four days, maybe he got drunk and choked on his own vomit. Or his seated in front of his door with a Bazooka ready to blow us to pieces, I don't know."

"Well we know he has people protecting him, they're probably feeding him, I think they wanna move him, probably out of the country."

"Yeah?whose they?"

"I don't know,whoever he works for."

"Yeah well, an enemy without a face is invincible."

"The enemy does have a face, Tunde *, you can look him up on Facebook if you want. "

Jude squashed the cigarette like a bug beneath his heel. Then turned to face Jesse. "Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that some rich boy came out of nowhere and compromised one of our trusted men."

Naomi  sat in front of her vanity and applied make up. Not that she needed it, she just had to keep up appearances, so to speak. Her hands-free hung on her left ear and through it she received orders. Ten minutes later she was dressed in an evening gown even though it was 11 in the morning. She looked sleek and harmless in the get up, but where men would imagine there was nothing but tall slender legs, was a weapon attached to her thigh, it was there to be used if necessary.

  Each stride was longer, each breath quicker, and as they neared the door all breathing seemed to seize. The world around them grew silent, and even the clouds overhead seemed to stop and stare in anticipation. Jesse leaned forward and pressed the door bell, and from outside he could hear it's tune dance across the walls of the apartment. He waited half a minute before he pushed the button again. When this elicited no response, he took three sure steps backwards and charged towards the door.

It burst open!, but not beneath his heel. Before he could reach for his weapon a hand reached for his face and drew it against an elbow. . He spun in a daze like a drunk attempting to dance and loosing his consciousness, bit his tongue to stay alert.These were trained foes after-all. Jesse found his foot and swift as a lion pouncing from beneath the grass drew his weapon. He let loose three bullets, one hit his assailant square on the head, another hit the hinge of the door and the third grazed the shoulder of an approaching enemy. Turning to his left Jesse saw that his men were holding their own, save for one unlucky soul who was on the floor being pounded like yam. So once more he charged into the house looking for the face in the picture squeezed in his pocket. He spotted a figure in the kitchen and proceeded to go there but a fist Jabbed at his lower back, this sent him to his knees, but before any further harm could be don't to him he cart wheeled forward and away from his assailant.

"Cheap shot."

"Alls fair in love and war." said the stout man with a lisp.

The figure Jesse had spotted earlier came out of the kitchen and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his gun.

by Wayne Samuel