The gibbous moon hung low in the dark sky, its light dancing upon a large mansion. A rabbit sat on its hind legs, ears pricked up and alert, its nose twitching and its eyes darting to and fro as it caught the scent of a predator. Then it was gone, a flash of white scurrying – vanishing into the undergrowth. An owl’s hollow hoot could be heard; once, twice as a lizard silently slipped by.

Black-clad, the young man merged with his surroundings, a shadow darker than the shadows of the bushes surrounding him. The owl hooted again, and this time the young man frowned.

“Stupid thing,” he muttered.

His eyes rove and stretched into the darkness toward the mansion in front of him. The long glass windows were opened, just as he thought it would be. A wisp of white fluttered from the open window facing the watcher as the night breezes caught the silky curtains.

He’d been checking out the mansion and hiding around the compound of the place for the passed few nights. He knew the place like the back of his hand now. Even the watchdogs couldn’t do anything. He’d given them raw steak peppered with fine white powder. He’d grind the sleeping pills well.

Trying hard not to step on any of the twigs and little branches littered on the ground, he sneaked out of the bushes and sprinted across the lawn and into the porch. He pressed his back against the cool wall and braced himself for the barking of the dogs, just in case his steak didn’t work. There was none. He let out a silent sigh of relief and stepped back warily. The assassin moved on his soft-sole leather moccasins to the opened window on the other side of the pavilion. His night’s work wasn’t a concern of the others in that house – the house that belonged to the Prime Minister of Norway. His mission was to finish off the visitor, that’s all.

The bed in the room was a sumptuous affair, high and hung with filmy white curtains that rose and fell in the breeze. Amid rumpled soft white sheets and comforter and coverlets, two naked bodies slept entwined, their bodies heavy with deep relaxation of fulfilment. The man slept with his back curved toward the French window where the other man stood now, one leg in the room and the other on the window-seat.

The man had one leg over the woman’s thighs and he had his arms locked around the woman’s waist, pulling her into a hug. It was as if the man was protecting his mistress and shielding her from the nightlife; but the man’s neck was open and vulnerable, the ribs sharply delineated beneath the pale taut skin. 

‘This shouldn’t be hard,’ the assassin thought as he padded soundlessly across the room.

The knife slid between the third and fourth ribs. Jacob Bysen stirred as sharp pain invaded his sleep, his dreams of love. A small yet strangled sound escaped; a sound of protest, of confusion, that faded into a tiny sigh as his body lost the tautness of living flesh, sinking into the mattress with a flaccid heaviness that bore no relation to the relaxation the moment before.

Kirsten should not have woken, the killing had been so silent, but her body was still in tune with Jacob’s even after the long hours of love, and as life left him, she woke and sat up in the same instant. The married man’s arms fell limply and his body slid sideways as her sleep-filled eyes stared disbelieving at the crimson stain on the smooth pale flesh of his side. It was a small blemish but it had been instant. The deadly stain began to spread in a slow, inexorable flush.

That’s when she looked up ahead of her, in a trance-like way. She didn’t know whether she should scream or cry or do both at the same time. That was when she saw him, looking deep into a pair of beautiful emerald eyes.

He found himself staring back at Kirsten, his shadowed green eyes darting left and right, worried that his time might be up.

Run!!! His brain screamed. His limbs started working as he climbed out of the window and leaped onto the ground before breaking into a run. He heard her screaming now.

“Took her long enough,” he muttered and sped up when he heard men shouting behind him with dogs barking at their heels. “Shit!”

There was absolutely no way that he could escape. But he must, oh, he really must try. Urging his muscles to cooperate with him and not cramping into a bunch of useless tissues, he ran like he never did before.

Just then, something whizzed by his left ear and embedded itself deep inside the trunk of a tree nearby him. They’d started shooting at him. Bullets thudded all around him, buried deep in the rich soil.

He tackled the high fence and climbed up as fast as he could. His agility was well known amongst the other assassins. There could be no way that he couldn’t outrun them.

“Here!” he heard someone shouted. The voice was familiar, its usual chirpiness gone and it had an urgent edge to it. His partner was finally here to save him.

He heard the screeching of tyres as his partner stepped on the brakes of that car. It skidded on the road but he managed to bring it next to the fence where he could jump right in.

“Stop!” a man shouted behind him.

He didn’t care. He kept on climbing; higher, higher now. He was about to leap off the fence when something small and cold found its way home. It drove deep into his thigh as blinding pain jolted and coursed right through his body. His thigh muscles contracted then quivered painfully as they tried to mend but fail. He lost hold of the fence and fell onto the pavement; thankfully on the other side of the fence now.

“Come on, come on!” his partner said as he leant across the front seat of the car and dragged his friend into the car.

As soon as he was inside the car, the car bolted forward and he slammed the car door. “Thanks,” he whispered, fighting against the pain in his leg. He placed a hand on the wound as he tried to stop the bleeding but it couldn’t do any good. He tore off the black fabric mask that hid his tan handsome face and turned to his friend whose young face was marred by a frown. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and exhaled noisily.

“I know what you’re thinking mate, but no, we can’t get you to the hospital,” his friend said before turning the wheel sharply, turning into a deserted street. “Not now, anyway. It’ll be too risky.”

He clamped his mouth shut and winced against the pain in his leg. His job was done. All they could do now was to wait for the money from the person who hired them to assassinate that man.