The Hit-and-Run Man

Chapter OneGreenfield hardly noticed the icy drizzle biting into his face, aware of nothing but the shadowy figure ahead of him. His hand was sweaty, uncannily so in the freezing cold of the night, as it closed around the butt of the automatic pistol in his pocket. In a matter of minutes the man who walked some thirty yards ahead of him along the wet, near-deserted streets would be dead. The nightmare would be over. Out of Hopdale Avenue and into School Road, Greenfield closed up slightly on his quarry. Never having fired a gun before, he knew he had to get close to be sure of hitting the target, but he wanted to close the gap gradually, avoiding arousing the suspicions of the man ahead. Greenfield couldn't believe he was thinking like this. He wasn't a criminal. Even now the thought that he was about to kill a man seemed unreal, a ghastly dream. How did he allow himself to get into this mess? What was an honest, respectable member of the community doing out on the streets with a gun, on a freezing December night, following a man he was about to blow to Kingdom come? It was crazy. The time was almost here. Soon the cramped, terraced houses would give way to the empty school buildings. On the other side of the road would be the school's playing fields, dark and deserted. This was where it was to happen. Greenfield thought of Pauline and his daughter, Diane. That was where he should be, at home with them, warm and contented, not out on the icy cold streets, a gun in his pocket, stalking the man he had to kill. He wondered what Pauline was doing at that moment. Diane tucked up in bed, she was probably relaxing with a cup of coffee, watching a film on television perhaps, or reading her favourite magazine. In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth. Their parting a couple of days before had been far from pleasant, but he couldn't see what else he could have done or said. How can you tell your wife that you have to go away for a few days to murder someone? His inability to offer an acceptable explanation for his leaving home for a short while had done nothing to allay her suspicions that he was running to another woman. He supposed it was the obvious thing to suspect. Surely, she could know nothing of the night in Barcelona. How much had her fears preyed on her mind since he had been gone? Could she really think he had left her for good? Oh, how he wished he could be there with her at this moment, to hold her hand, take her in his arms, reassure her. The man ahead paused momentarily, pulling the collar of his coat up around his ears. It crossed Greenfield's mind that this would almost certainly be the last conscious act of this man's life. Not much of a final contribution. Yet Greenfield knew he would never forget it. He would see it by night, by day, wherever he was going, whatever he was doing. This man's last deliberate act before Greenfield squeezed the trigger and brought his life to a bloody conclusion. A thousand times over the past three months Greenfield has asked himself how he could have been so stupid, without finding an answer. Tonight was no exception. The male ego, that can push a man to such great heights, can so often be his downfall. He could still see now the first fleeting flash of those big, blue eyes and remember the sensation that instantly stirred within him. Memories of that warm summer night in Barcelona came back to haunt him once more, swirling around his brain with thoughts of Pauline, his daughter, his home and the man he had to kill. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as the icy rain turned to snow. He was suddenly aware that the houses had disappeared, the dark, empty school buildings looming beside him. Across the road it was impossible to see even the outline of a soccer goalpost in the light of the old, inadequate street lamps. Greenfield closed up quickly on his quarry. Speed was everything now. His hand tightened on the pistol in his pocket, already primed for firing, his finger now on the trigger. There could be no hesitating. The time had come. It was the only way to end the nightmare that had begun three months before at the start of a business trip to Spain. He knew he must not fail.