Several minutes later, at 7:45, a man appeared from the back and sat next to Mr. Hooker. I tried to get an angle to see if I could recognize him but was unable. The man placed an order, slipped something into Mr. Hooker’s pocket, and then immediately left out the back. I leaned toward the aisle to see if I could get a look at him as he left. As I attempted to get a look, a waitress walked up and placed a beer in front of me.
“Oh, I didn’t order that,” I said, putting my hand up, still trying to catch a last glimpse.
“The man who just left bought it for you. He said to tell you, you should take the night off,” she said, and walked away.
I became immediately nervous that I had been noticed. Did someone know what I was up to? I glanced down at the beer. Well, best not let it go to waste. I sipped it slowly, as not to affect my state of mind.
8:02 p.m.
Jeff Hooker rose from his seat to leave. Right on time. I pulled out my phone and texted Franklin: Received Delivery. Heading home.
I waited fifteen minutes before exiting myself. Franklin had a car waiting to take me to my destination: Jeff Hooker’s house. I rode in the back seat in silence and the driver dropped me off a block from his condo. He was on the top floor. I walked up to the condo entrance and buzzed another resident that knew Franklin, who immediately buzzed me in. I proceeded to the elevator and made my way to the top floor. When I arrived to the top, I rounded a corner from Jeff Hooker’s front door, to temporarily conceal myself. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the blade once more. I drug it with just enough pressure across my thumb. Blood dripped from it. It continued dripping. I sighed in disappointment. To have my shadow take on this endeavor would have been a relief. It was easy, clear, and guilt-free. I tried my trigger word, hoping it would work, but nothing happened.
“Looks like it’s going to be the old-fashioned way,” I said to myself. I pulled my gloves from my pocket and slid them on, pulled a bandana to my face and walked down the hall.
I put my ear to the door to ensure there were no other occupants. Silence. I precisely slid the key into the lock and turned it. The lock gave no resistance, it had already been unlocked.
I gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly. Once it was fully rotated, I pushed the door open. The entryway had no occupants. I closed the door behind me. I tiptoed down the hallway, baton in hand. I glanced into the kitchen, it was empty and dark. I continued down the hall passing a bathroom and a bedroom. I made my way to the portion of the condo where everything opened up. The living room sprawled out over a thousand square feet, a wall of windows on one side, displaying a breathtaking view of the skyline, and in the middle, a fireplace with a fire burning. It was the only light in the room, apart from a small lamp next to a chair by the fire.
There sat Jeff Hooker. He sat there, glass of whiskey next to him, reading a book.
“Right on time,” he said, without looking up.
I sidestepped four times to face him, yet keep my distance. If he knew I was coming, he could have been prepared for my arrival. I looked for a gun or weapon.
“Law said you would come.”
“How does Law know what I’m up to?” I asked.
Jeff lowered his book and glanced at me, “Law knows what everyone is always doing, Danielle.”
“I see.”
“You should have taken the night off.”
“I have a job to do.”
“So I hear,” he said, pulling the jump drive from his pocket, holding it out to me. “You’re here for this, right?”
“I am.” I replied, thinking this was too easy and unusual. He tossed it across the room towards me. I bent down, picked it up, and shoved it into my pocket.
“I’m guessing that’s not all you were sent here to do?” he said.
“No.”
“Franklin order you to kill me?”
“Not quite,” I replied, feeling a rush of guilt setting in.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my drink,” he requested.
“Okay.”
He gazed at the fire as he sipped his drink. It was unnerving to see someone so comfortable with their fate.
“Why aren’t you afraid?” I asked, out of the silence.
He glanced over at me and said, “I am afraid.”
“You don’t seem worried.”
“Yes, I have years of experience enduring the weight of a life or lives hanging in the palm of my hand. You make a mistake or say one wrong thing or use the wrong emphasis on the wrong word, and a murderer or rapist could run free, because you created that doubt in the eyes of the jury, because you expressed the doubt that is within yourself. I have simply learned to hide that fear.”
“But you don’t always get it right.”
“No, not always. Sometimes we lose and the bad guys run free.”
“Or someone who isn’t responsible for a crime takes the fall and you let it happen.”
He squinted his eyes at me, “Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“What do you mean?”
“That case gave us all a boost in our rise to power, but power was never why I became a lawyer. I believed in the justice system, I still do. However, I can’t lie and say that I didn’t know what Franklin had done and what we all helped him do. Now, I’m ready to make it right, and I know it will be to my demise. I cannot say I deserve anything less.”
“Well, that’s between you and Franklin. I’m just a messenger,” I replied. I snapped my wrist, extending the baton, then strode
