Chapter 3
320 Words
Chapter 3
From Romania to Evanston, Illinois
“Done. The old lady is dead.”
Elite among international assassins, Federal authorities considered Hadean Petrov one of the most dangerous killers alive. They remembered Bolivia’s situation, which took down experienced DEA agents, and the d**g runner’s ambush on the Black Sea. All Hadean Petrov. Now, he was on another mission.
His baritone voice crackled in the static of his cell phone. “The funeral—held today.”
“So . . .” The speaker on the other end trailed off then spoke again. “Who was there? At the funeral.”
“I was not present, but I caught a glimpse and heard the conversation. Many people from the college, Elena Dkany, Alexander Brancusi, and his sister, and one Gregory Balogh, who comes from Romania. He is also Magda’s solicitor. Uh, he was late but showed up at the house afterward.”
“Yes, I knew he would be there. It is as I thought. Good.” Another pause, almost as if the thinking came through the crackling of the phone. “The death, it was quick, yes? How?”
“Do you want details?” The assassin laughed. “How was it done?”
“Accident?” Voices, not from the speaker, overrode his voice. “Just one moment.” Muffled conversation, then he was back. “I am free.”
“Good. So, hit and, how do you say . . . run? As a tree branch topples in a storm.”
“Did it look like an accident?”
“I made it look so.”
“Good.”
A man with a fishing pole came up alongside him. Petrov swung his feet over the rock, retrieved his sandals, and walked away.
“What now? Do I leave, or do you have another job for me?”
“You wait. I will have more for you to do.”
“Do you have money for me?”
“Oh yes. You will have the money. Look in your Romanian bank account. It is all there.”
“I thank you. It is good doing business with you.” They clicked off their cell phones.
Hadean Petrov walked across the park and across the street where he’d killed Magda Dkany.
- Writer
