Broken Alibi (409 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 1.66 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by sebcharrot (View user info) at 2005-07-26 11:52:05 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Anapra, Mexico
1:58AM Central Daylight Time
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Maria Gonzalez carefully examined every candle at the memorial stand to make sure that none were failing, as was her way. Her thick silvery hair glowed golden in the flickering candlelight as she shuffled arthritically towards her small office. As the light spilled out of the office doorway into the void of the main church, undulating over pews and rolling across the dusty stone floor, a shadow shifted from one recess, flitted silently across the stream of light, and sank once more into the darkness. Maria turned and gave a cursory glance around. Nothing. Shrugging, she placed more papers into her case and clicked the rusty catch closed. She turned to walk out the door and strode straight into a man's chest. She stumbled backwards in shock.
"¿Quiénes son usted? ¿Por qué está usted aquí?" she whispered fiercely, forgetting to speak in English. The man had made no sound when he'd walked in. He answered.
"Estoy aquí hacer mi trabajo. Usted va a morir." I am here to do my job. You are going to die. It was no threat; it was simply a fact, told without emotion. He spoke in a deep, quiet voice. The low vibrato in his voice seemed to resonate within her body, and she felt herself relaxing. In this calmer state she observed the man, who was still standing in the same spot. He was easily six feet tall, with broad shoulders and short-cropped hair. He was dressed head to toe in black: tee shirt, trousers, shoes... and gloves.
But it was his eyes that captured her. His bottomless cerulean eyes held her gaze unwaveringly, held open in an unreadable expression. Staring deep into his eyes, she knew he had not lied, and that she was going to die. She only wished that she could have been sent off with a prayer.
The tall man took a step towards her, and pressed a hand on her shoulder. She sank to her knees and bowed her head, any ideas of struggling having dissipated entirely. She knelt there for what seemed like an eternity, until finally he broke the silence and, speaking slowly in Latin, gave the last rites.
When he was finished he broke her neck expertly, and lowered her to the ground.
His watch began to beep. He silenced it and walked out of the church just in time to make some other appointments.
2 Months Later
Glasgow, Scotland
9:12PM Greenwich Mean Time
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He sat on a stool at the bar, slumped over and examining his beer. He took a swig and shook the hair out of his eyes. As required by the job, he had adopted the appearance of a faded rock enthusiast, which fitted in perfectly with the pub's usual custom. He sported a wig of long, matted black hair and had let stubble take its hold of his jaw. He wore an old torn The Who tee shirt under a tight denim jacket, and ragged jeans to match. He had even applied his usual perfectionism in choosing suitable trainers to complete the ensemble.
He pushed the empty bottle towards the barman and, in a perfect Glaswegian accent, asked for another one. Burping quietly, he swivelled in his seat and took an expansive glance around the bar. He noted that his mark had finished his pint and was picking his jacket up and moving towards the door. He nodded to himself in a falsely drunken manner and turned back to the bar. He took care in paying the exact money, as any true alcoholic learns to do, and walked unsteadily out of the door into the freezing air.
Once outside, he tracked his mark's movement to another pub across the road, the Miller's Inn. He smiled, for the target was following his usual Friday night trail, so he walked into a bar 2 doors down. He found the bathroom, locked the door, and swung his flimsy bag off his shoulders and onto the counter. Carefully, he unpacked a shaving kit, a crisply folded suit, various paraphernalia... and a silenced Glock 28.
Twenty minutes later, he walked out of the bar, clean shaved, dressed in a very dark blue suit with a sober grey tie and shined black shoes. Resting snugly against his left side was the gun, strapped into a shoulder holster. The new wig felt a lot lighter on his head, the dark brown hair having been swept into an efficient side parting. He paused at the Miller's door, cleared his throat, and inwardly spurned himself for not brushing his teeth. Too late for that. He pushed open the door and strode confidently to the barman. He held up a badge and spoke in his best English accent.
"Excuse me, I'm Detective Green from the London Metropolitan Police. Do you have a man called William Baxter in here?" The old man's brow furrowed.
"Wully? Aye he comes here often. 's a matter o' fact, there he is noo." He said, pointing to the mark, who had just come from the bathroom.
The killer smiled, nodded his thanks to the barman and accosted his mark. He flashed him his badge, repeated his name and walked him out of the pub before the man had a chance to say anything. Once outside, Baxter shook free.
"What the hell is this? Let me see that ID again!" he said, alarmed.
"Mr Baxter, we have no time for this. Let's get back to my car, my partner is there and he will explain everything to you." He moved in, took hold of Baxter's arm and marched him down the street, ignoring the man's complaints. Further down, they turned into a darkened alley which led to another street. Halfway through, the killer's left arm leapt snakelike and struck Baxter in the neck. He fell backwards and toppled into a brick wall. Confident that he would be out for at least an hour, the killer heaved him onto his shoulders, kicked a door into the building on his left, and walked in.
11:34PM
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It was slightly over 90 minutes before Baxter started to move. The killer, Stefan Krüger, sat at the dusty window of the disused upstairs apartment he was using as his HQ. He had changed out of the suit and into his black outfit, and the wig lay a few feet away, where it had been thrown. He was busy calculating the time he had left until his next appointment. Checking his watch, he figured he had roughly two hours left before his flight to New York. If he missed it, his carefully constructed alibi would not stand. Or rather, the alibi constructed by his bosses. He had no idea who they were, nor did he want to find out. All he knew was that when they had a problem, he received another job.
They had either not found out or did not care about his unusual modus operandi: before every killing, he offered the victim a last, small comfort. Once, he gave a car dealer the chance to drive around the block in his fastest BMW. Another time, he had let a housewife phone her husband at work to tell him she loved him. It was not out of a desire for drama, but simply a last understanding of humanity which he could not shrug off, that he had given in to the pleas. Now he did it intentionally, giving each victim a last taste of life before he ended it.
"Where the fuck am I??"
So Baxter had woken up.
"I can't move! I can't fucking move!"
"Calm down, Mr Baxter. I am coming" said Stefan, who bent over Baxter's body and pulled a small, specialised pin out of his spine. Immediately the man's limbs began to shake, then grew restful. He stretched experimentally. Stefan held the pin up for Baxter to see.
"Just a small precaution of mine, Mr Baxter. I'm sure you understand." Indeed the man seemed to, for he did not ask why he was there.
"Look, all I did was-"
"I care not about your deeds, Mr Baxter. I am only here to do a job"
Minutes passed as Baxter thought hard.
"Why am I still alive?" he asked quietly. Stefan eyed him probingly for a moment, conscious of the unease his bottomless eyes roused in people. Finally he answered.
"Because you have still to tell me your last wish," he whispered, "You see, Mr Bax-"
"Yes," interrupted the small man, "I know who you are. Your accent isn't English anymore. It's German, isn't it?"
"Austrian." Krüger smiled, masking his irritation.
"Yes..." replied the man pensively, "I've heard of you. You give people what the want before they die, don't you? I thought so..." he said, when he noticed the blank expression on Krüger's face.
Krüger thought hard. So his jobs had been in the news. This was an uneasy turn for the worst. His service couldn't last any longer if his work was being recognised. He swore inwardly. And they knew of his accent. How could they know?? He ran a hand over the short hairs on his head calmly. Wheels and cogs spun in his head. This would have to be his final contract then. If his employers discovered his indulgences, he would be in danger.
He checked his watch again. It was seven minutes to midnight. He had approximately 90 minutes to finish this.
"Mr Baxter I want you to think hard now about what you want before you die. This is a chance to end your life on your terms. But choose fast, for I have little time to spare."
The small man shifted uncomfortably in his dusty corner. Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke.
"I... I met this girl last week. I want to see her before... before it happens."
00:26AM
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The details had been painstakingly worked out. Baxter would meet the girl outside a club called "The Toolshed" and walk to Argyle Street, which they would follow all the way to Central Station. Here they would part, and Baxter would wait until Stefan showed up. As they waited, Stefan whispered into Baxter's ear:
"Before I go, you need to know two things. While you were sleeping, I gave you an injection of a very lethal poison. It lays dormant for 3 hours then attacks the lungs and heart. You will choke on your own blood while your heart spasms intensely, and you will die a horrible death. So do not run away from me, for I have the antidote, and a much more peaceful way to die. Secondly, I have attached an electronic bug to your shirt, so if you speak about me or anything that has happened tonight, I will know, and kill you before you finish the sentence. Do not misunderstand me, I am giving you a chance to end your life properly, but if I need to, I will end it in a heartbeat. Mine, as it happens. Enjoy your night." And he disappeared into the night.
Stefan watched a pretty blonde in a thick black coat and wearing a large red bonnet walked past Baxter. He called "Jenny!" and she spun towards him. He walked towards her and kissed her on the cheek. Linking arms, they walked onwards, and Stefan followed in the dark. Truth be told, he had injected nothing, and had attached to listening device either, but in the past, the threat had been enough to keep his targets in check.
As he watched the couple walking along, talking happily, something struck Stefan as deeply wrong. A nagging sensation in the back of his mind screamed that this wasn't right. He watched the attentively, reading in the details, absorbing everything. Yes! That was it. The woman, despite being in a tasteful dress and beautiful jacket, was wearing flat-soled shoes. Such a discrepancy sent warning alarms in his head. The woman looked back casually, and for a moment their eyes met. For a moment, her cold, calculating stare dug hard into his eyes, and then her gaze moved on, nonchalantly taking in the view. This was wrong.
The couple turned into an alley, and Stefan pursued. Now forewarned as to what was going on, he stopped before running blindly into the alley, and ran back to the previous one. He sprinted through and turned right once he was out of it. The other alley ended ten feet away. He walked towards the entrance, and twisted round the corner, looking in.
A flash of movement. He ducked the pipe and was showered in brick dust as it bounced off the wall. Diving to the ground, the rolled on his left shoulder while pulling out his gun with his right. He rolled into a shooting position and struck off a double tap. BAM BAM. The sound ricocheted off the walls and a body slumped to the ground in the darkness of the alley. Baxter. Good. The job was done. At the other end of the alley, someone shouted.
"What's going on??"
Stefan ignored the shout, and suddenly remembered the woman. A split second early, he heard the woosh of air and the pipe struck him in the back of the head. In agony, he turned and shot blindly, stopping only when he heard a scream. He stumbled into a wall and slumped down. His watch beeped. Shit. Time was up.
The alibi was broken.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-17 18:01:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
interesting, but no plot
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-12-27 15:13:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/48643#882005
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2005-10-30 05:25:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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