Out of the Black - Lee Doty [38]
Whew, Creepy. The key thudded against the surface of the lock pad again and Ping realized he'd lost the impromptu staring competition. "Hmm." Ping said absently, looking at the ancient keys, then his shiny, new car. He looked back to the watcher, ready for round two... gone. He looked around... really gone. The only movement was the sway of the old trees in the light wind.
Maybe the guy had dashed back into the lobby... maybe there were other keys in his pocket. He fished in the pockets, but came away with nothing. Maybe something was wrong with the lock... he stooped to investigate. The smooth metal of the lock had a few superficial scratches from the keys, but other than that, he couldn't see anything wrong. He rubbed absently at one of the scratches on the biometric pad with the tip of his index finger and heard the accept tone.
He spent a few seconds in terrible confusion before finally shrugging and opening the door.
***
Unseen in the upper branches of a tall tree near the building's entrance, Dek angled for a better view. One hand gripped the tree's trunk so tightly that cracks radiated away from his fingers. The other hand moved a smaller branch out of his way as he craned his head around the trunk. Above him, his right foot hooked around the thinning trunk, holding him inverted while his left foot drew circles in the air. He balanced upside down about six meters off the ground. He loved this, but no smile showed on his smooth features. His business today was death, and he knew the six men and one woman he'd killed since midnight were just the start of a long, dark day.
He waited for the policeman to get his car open, then waited much longer for him to drive away. He could picture the poor guy inside the car, trying fruitlessly to get those ancient keys into his car's biometric ignition. Ivo's apprentice had obviously had some fun with the befuddled Detective, but that wasn't Dek's primary concern now... today his business was Ahmed.
One foot on the path to vengeance, the other drawing circles in the air, Dek waited. The swaying of the tree comforted him, distracted him from the white-hot fury that threatened to burn him away. He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the caress of the wind, the rustle of the branches, the sway of the tree- the subtle harmony that God loved to hide in any experience, no matter how dark or pointless He let the world get.
At last, the car with the silver patch tape on the roof drove away. He smiled with anticipation. Now that the Detective was out of the way, would be making his move. Ahmed was the target, and Dek was going to follow him and kill until he got some answers. He unhooked his foot and balanced momentarily, still holding the trunk with his right hand; his right arm extended perpendicularly from the line of his body. He relished the sound of the trunk splintering under the strain.
Then he let go and swam down through the branches.
***
As Ping closed the car door, the silence was unsettling- he had something important to do.
His tablet chirped. How was he supposed to think with all these interruptions? He unholstered it and checked the caller ID; it was his captain. Without extending the tablet, he held it before him so that he could see the exposed portion of the screen and its camera could register his face. He thumbed the connection open.
The round face of Captain Hafiz appeared. He was a thickly built man of about fifty with dark features and a habit of playing with his mustache as he spoke. His grandparents had emigrated from India, which explained his dark complexion, but he had grown up in some unknowable region of the United States that left him scarred with an accent not unlike a pirate in a cheap video. He had a deep, booming voice, and a flair for drama. When he got excited, it was easy to picture him on a wooden deck with cutlass and parrot, bellowing orders to a surly crew.
On the screen, his face was a parody of gravity, as always. It had taken Ping some time to get used to his