12-10-2014, 11:38 AM
It is the same Bela that you met earlier in ‘Bela got fucked’
The short fat man swirled the brandy and then raised the glass and inhaled the heady fumes. He smiled when he considered that it cost the equivalent of a day's wages for many of the people living in his country. Life was good.
Before he stepped towards the balcony doors to open the drapes he turned off the room lights. Even though he was in the penthouse of a fifteen storey building, it was best not to take any chances.
The drapes slid open and he stepped out into the warm night air. As he surveyed the scene below he drew on the Havana cigar and let the smoke drift slowly from his lips. He looked down to the city where advertising banners flashed in chaotic disorder and listened to the hum of activity that arose.
As his eyes swept to the right to take in the panoramic view, he stiffened in shock when he saw the dark figure standing just inside the balcony rail. For a moment he froze in disbelief as he tried to grasp the impossible situation. How in God's name? Then he saw the rope dangling from the roof.
The figure appeared to be totally enclosed in a tight black garment and it stood motionless with arms hanging loosely.
His heart thudded in the menacing silence and he began to shuffle backwards into the room. Could he get to his desk and the pistol in the second drawer? The black figure followed him.
In the semi-darkness of the room he continued his slow progress until he felt the desk against the backs of his thighs. Carefully he negotiated his way around the desk and then lowered himself into the leather chair. His hands were shaking as he placed his glass on the surface and the cigar in the ashtray.
Fear made him breathless but he tried to keep his voice steady and authoritative as he demanded, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"
The menacing silence remained unbroken.
He forced himself to appear relaxed as his hand crept towards the handle of the second drawer. His fingers were trembling as he gripped it and silently slid the drawer open.
With an effort he spoke again and tried to sound indignant when he said, "I asked who you are. What do you want?"
His hand was in the drawer and closing around the butt of the pistol. He felt for the safety catch with his thumb and eased it off.
He now had the pistol firmly grasped and prepared to lift it. He was no expert with a gun but surely he could not miss someone standing three metres away?
As he snatched the pistol from the drawer, he felt the impact in his chest and the force of it swivelled his chair a quarter turn to the left. The weapon tumbled from his fingers.
He looked up and the right arm of the dark figure was pointing horizontally towards him. He looked down and stared blankly at the steel handle protruding from the centre of his chest.
At first he felt nothing, but then a paroxysm of agony convulsed his body. He tried to stand but his legs were lifeless. He retched and tasted blood.
His body jerked and twisted with the excruciating pain but slowly a deadening seeped through his limbs. As he slumped back in the chair he felt himself drifting into a stupor. His last vision before his heart stopped beating was the motionless black figure watching him die.
TO BE CONTINUED
The short fat man swirled the brandy and then raised the glass and inhaled the heady fumes. He smiled when he considered that it cost the equivalent of a day's wages for many of the people living in his country. Life was good.
Before he stepped towards the balcony doors to open the drapes he turned off the room lights. Even though he was in the penthouse of a fifteen storey building, it was best not to take any chances.
The drapes slid open and he stepped out into the warm night air. As he surveyed the scene below he drew on the Havana cigar and let the smoke drift slowly from his lips. He looked down to the city where advertising banners flashed in chaotic disorder and listened to the hum of activity that arose.
As his eyes swept to the right to take in the panoramic view, he stiffened in shock when he saw the dark figure standing just inside the balcony rail. For a moment he froze in disbelief as he tried to grasp the impossible situation. How in God's name? Then he saw the rope dangling from the roof.
The figure appeared to be totally enclosed in a tight black garment and it stood motionless with arms hanging loosely.
His heart thudded in the menacing silence and he began to shuffle backwards into the room. Could he get to his desk and the pistol in the second drawer? The black figure followed him.
In the semi-darkness of the room he continued his slow progress until he felt the desk against the backs of his thighs. Carefully he negotiated his way around the desk and then lowered himself into the leather chair. His hands were shaking as he placed his glass on the surface and the cigar in the ashtray.
Fear made him breathless but he tried to keep his voice steady and authoritative as he demanded, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"
The menacing silence remained unbroken.
He forced himself to appear relaxed as his hand crept towards the handle of the second drawer. His fingers were trembling as he gripped it and silently slid the drawer open.
With an effort he spoke again and tried to sound indignant when he said, "I asked who you are. What do you want?"
His hand was in the drawer and closing around the butt of the pistol. He felt for the safety catch with his thumb and eased it off.
He now had the pistol firmly grasped and prepared to lift it. He was no expert with a gun but surely he could not miss someone standing three metres away?
As he snatched the pistol from the drawer, he felt the impact in his chest and the force of it swivelled his chair a quarter turn to the left. The weapon tumbled from his fingers.
He looked up and the right arm of the dark figure was pointing horizontally towards him. He looked down and stared blankly at the steel handle protruding from the centre of his chest.
At first he felt nothing, but then a paroxysm of agony convulsed his body. He tried to stand but his legs were lifeless. He retched and tasted blood.
His body jerked and twisted with the excruciating pain but slowly a deadening seeped through his limbs. As he slumped back in the chair he felt himself drifting into a stupor. His last vision before his heart stopped beating was the motionless black figure watching him die.
TO BE CONTINUED