ONE YEAR LATER
Baltimore had treated me well, a lot better than I had imagined or experienced. I could have attributed it to the fact that I stayed away from all sorts of interaction with people, or that I pressed the brakes on my assassinations. But it allowed me to maintain a clear head and really think about what I'd gone through within the past 20 months.
As expected, a month after I moved to Baltimore, Sally Worthington died. Conspiracy Theorists were on fire all over social media, talking about how she sold her soul to the devil to get that inheritance and pinning that as the reason for her sudden illnesses and her death. The speculations were all fun to watch; superstition and hysteria were enough to make people say a lot of hogwash for people to swallow based on the circumstances.
Attending her funeral was completely out of the question. I was not about to risk a random person seeing a few similarities between my current look and the one I sported back in Florida. After all that happened, I learned to stop taking things so lightly. Sandra's curse made reality choose that 0.0000001% possibility most of the time.
Speaking of Florida, it was important to follow up the investigation of Terry Dahl's death, because I never knew how much effort the FBI would go to get the killer, and how lucky they would be in their connections. But they weren't as Lucky as Terry. It took four days after I'd landed in Baltimore before they publicly ruled out the Suicide possibility, due to the absence of the dashcams and the eyewitness reports that told them there was someone else with him in the car as at the I-95 freeway.
It took another three days before they were able to get a lead on my involvement after they questioned the people at the gym. They were quick to track my former address and the few places I regularly visited, including the rental where I got the car I was suing from.
But I had put everything in order before I even killed Terry, and it seemed that Lenard Mosley had just disappeared from the face of the earth. And in truth, he had - back to the abyss of false identities he had come from. I was now fifth on the list of the FBI's most wanted, two spots under Matt Connors, the identity I had used in New York City when I killed Sandra, Felicity, and the bouncer fella, whatever his name was.
I made sure to tie all my loose ends, that I knew and I was happy for that because I knew I had to do better if I was serious about my retirement plans were concerned. The Bahamas was still my dream destination, and it was just five well-picked missions away.
It was November 2019, and I was back on Encrochat. I'd had a lot of offers within the past year that I had to dismiss, and while I did lose a bit of rep in the space due to the pissed clients, one was still there in my inbox, asking me to do a job for him. It was the tenacity and patience he had to continue to delay that job...
Just kidding.
It was suspicious as hell.
For someone to request the services of another person to kill someone, they were at the point of no return. Either they felt the person really deserved it, or they needed it done and they didn't want to soil their hands directly. Either way, there was no virtue of patience in them. there wasn't any likelihood - more like a possibility - that they would be able to wait that long for me to do a job for them.
And it wasn't a question of if they were choosing the best man for the job either, because they were many other assassins just as good as I was at their job, and even some that were better - for one, I knew of some that weren't involved in any such tight situations like the one I got caught up in over a year ago.
That made it completely easy to deduce that for some reason, this client wanted me in particular - not essentially for my skills and certainly not for my work ethic: there was little to nothing to know about me, I wasn't affiliated with any gangs, mafia, syndicates and so on, so I had almost zero social presence. I just killed people and got paid).
This person wanted me, The X, also known as Skar - which was a recent moniker I had adopted as I resumed work - for who I was. Meaning that they had some knowledge of my previous work.
It was a trap set by a very stupid individual, but it was still a trap nonetheless. On one hand, by choosing to accept or even continue discussions with this person, I would be potentially jeopardizing m freedom. On the other hand, it felt very important to know who exactly was on my tail, how the person got to know about me, and why the person was doing this/.
I asked myself, "do I bite, or not?"
*****
TO BE CONTINUED
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