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Posted by Slade
on 9/16/2009, 10:34 pm
24.210.138.188
Airport, New York City
Slade and Gavin make their way from the baggage claim and towards the exit, in no particular hurry. Their red eye flight from Star City to New York had been almost empty since it was a week night. Gavin had slept most of the flight, but Slade had looked through the files he had been sent by his source. Normally he wouldn’t have worked via email but this one was secured through his employer so it was reasonably safe.
“Do you think you can trust your inside man,” the boy asks.
“To an extent, he is being paid very well for his information. Plus if I find out he has played me false in any way, he knows I will not hesitate to kill him.”
“But he could be baiting a trap for you.”
“I have walked into traps set by far better man than this piss ant and walked away.” Slade reaches into his pocket and retrieves his cell phone. He pushes the button for the only number that is programmed in.
“Good morning Mr. Wilson,” the voice of his unknown employer begins. “I trust that your flight went well.”
“I will be meeting with my source in a few hours, I should be ready to go tonight.”
“You are working with a deadline as you know. I have complete faith in your ability to carry out this assignment without any problems.”
"I always complete my contracts to the letter," Slade answers. "Are you lacking in faith in me?"
"If I lacked faith in you, I would not have hired you." The connection goes dead as the man on the other end hangs up. Slade put the phone back into his pocket and leads Gavin to the curb. The next taxi in line pulls up and the pair enters the car.
"Were to pal?"
"We have reservations at the Heritage Circle on 19th."
"You're the boss," and with that the cabbie speeds off into traffic. Gavin settles in to watch the city as it whisks by in the just breaking light of dawn. Slade decides now would be as good a time as any to catch a few winks of sleep...
A Few Hours Later
Slade walks into the lobby of a shabby motel in Hell's Kitchen. Several drunkards and a couple of working girls sit at the tiny bar adjacent to the lobby. He gives them all a baleful stare that makes them all look away. He walks past the desk were a sleeping attendant lay face down in a puddle of drool.
Slade takes the stairs slowly, keeping his senses trained to detect anyone who might be taking any interest in his passing. Passed out drug addicts lay in the hallways and children play with broken toys, but he pays them no mind. He arrives at the fourth floor which is unremarkable from the others. He steps of a passed out woman who looks as if she is barely breathing. Room 412 sits at the end of the hall by a window with a view of the next building.
Opening the door quickly, Slade steps inside. The room is much as he suspected out of a place like this, one dirty tiny room with w single other door probably leading to a bathroom. There are two pieces of furniture a small bed with no sheets and a stained tan chair. There is also a TV that looks as if it might even be black and white. The only light in the room comes through the see through curtains on the single window.
A man sits in the chair, smoking a cigarette and his leg bouncing with nervous energy. On his lap sits a small black bag.
"Did you bring it," the man says his eyes wide with terror.
"I trust that you've brought my..."
"Everything is in here," the man says holding up the bag. Slade opens it and peers down at the contents. He tosses the man a piece of paper and examines his bag in more detail. The man unfolds the piece of paper and begins typing a message on his cell phone.
“If any of this is bad…”
“You don’t have to threaten me, I knew I was a dead man as soon as I agreed to this. I’m doing this to take care of my family, what happens to me is unimportant.”
“Never the less, I am not a man to be f*%^ed with. Even if you’re gone your wife and son are still easy to find.”
“I swear to you everything you need is in there, it will get you access into the prison. I can tell you anything you need to know about the guards and their schedules. Breaking into the Baxter building is all on you…”
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