by Captain Sammitch
...And in the Big Apple, what started out as a tragic tale of the deaths of two missing girls has taken a chilling turn. An unidentified gunman has been systematically hunting a ring of suspected kidnappers and pornographers, in a rash of extremely methodical killings that leave behind almost no evidence whatsoever. In the two weeks since Alyssa Thompson and Tina Porter were found murdered near Brooklyn, the number of murders tied to this mysterious suspect has climbed to fourteen. The suspect police are simply calling the Unidentified Man has struck without warning or mercy in several locations in the NYC metro area. With the exception of eight deaths the night after Thompson and Porter were found, all subsequent victims have died alone, either in or outside their own homes, each the victim of a single well-placed shot, delivered by a high-powered military sniper rifle. Police are urging New Yorkers that they do not perceive the Unidentified Man as a threat to law-abiding citizens, and as an unexpected side effect, the number of minor public incidents from moving violations to pickpocketing to jaywalking has dropped dramatically over the past week. For more on this case, we'll go to the newsroom, where Geoff Kyle is waiting...
Phil switched off the television. There was a knock at the door. Phil put his carefully highlighted and annotated city maps under the coffee table and covered them with the Times, then got up and answered the door.
"Package for Mr. Smith," the UPS guy said.
Phil signed for the large square carton. "Nice day out," he commented.
The parcel man nodded. "It'd be nicer if we didn't all have to keep looking over our shoulders constantly."
"What do you mean?" Phil asked.
"You've seen the news, right? There's this sniper running all over the place. Fourteen people dead. In two weeks. That averages out to, like, one a day. It's as bad as D.C. With one exception."
"He only kills criminals," Phil finished for him.
The UPS man nodded. "Yeah. But still, a guy who kills fourteen people - even criminals - scares me."
"Yeah, that guy's pretty frightening," Phil agreed. "What should be done about him?"
"I dunno. Part of me says bring him in or take him down, but part of me wants to believe he's doing his job - like he's on some sort of mission. After all, he's also been linked to four of the kidnapped girls mysteriously showing up on the cops' doorstep. Maybe he just needs to finish what he started, and then he'll just... disappear."
Phil nodded. "We can only hope." He waved to the UPS man. "Have a nice day."
"You too." The parcel guy got back in his brown truck and drove off down the busy street.
Phil carried the package inside, locked the door and closed the shades, and carefully set the box down on the coffee table. He opened it to find the ammunition he had ordered from a black-market dealer in Istanbul, with a laser sight for his .44 thrown in as a bonus of sorts. This just might be enough to last him until this was all over.
He hoped it would be soon. Maybe then he could just... disappear, like the UPS man hoped.
It would be a fitting exit for the Unidentified Man.
The subway
Roberto was scared.
He hated to admit it, but he was.
It had been nearly a week since the Unidentified Man had claimed a victim, but Los Hermanos del Dolor were dwindling in number. Roberto remembered how Hector Vargas had thought up the name for their little ring, and how proudly they had taken that half-jesting title of Brothers of Pain. But it was becoming clear that the HdDs were definitely in over their heads.
It was time to get out of town.
Roberto was heading for the Amtrak station west of town. He didn't care where he went, as long as it was away from here. He carried a small suitcase with all the belongings he had time to throw together, and in his wallet he carried $644, his credit cards, and the access code to the HdDs' numbered Swiss account. He hoped that the money might help him start over somewhere.
The train came to a halt, and Roberto was the only one to get off at the Amtrak station. After all, not many people were in a hurry to travel at three in the morning. Roberto walked away from the subway platform and headed for the nearest ticket machine.
Maybe he could open a legitimate business somewhere, meet a girl, maybe even settle down and start a family like he had always wanted.
After all, he wasn't a killer.
"Where you goin', ese?"
The voice came from his left. Roberto whirled around to see Victor coming towards him, carrying a .38 revolver. "'Fonso told me you were thinkin' 'bout skippin' town. Didn't want you to leave without saying adios."
Roberto froze. "What you talkin' about, man?"
Victor motioned toward Roberto's briefcase. "Goin' somewhere? Alfonso told me he gave you the codes to our dinero. I don't think Hector would have liked this. And you know what he did to hermanos who didn't make him happy."
Roberto turned and started for a lit enclosure near the ticket machines.
I'm coming.
The voice came out of nowhere.
You better run.
The voice was in his head.
Roberto ran, but a shot ricocheted off the pavement right next to him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly.
"Bad idea, ese," Victor said.
He leveled the gun at Roberto's chest.
Crack!
Victor dropped to his knees slowly as a red stain began to spread across his own chest. He gasped for breath and toppled over. Roberto ran over and grabbed the revolver.
"Who's there?" he shouted.
"It's... it's him," Victor wheezed.
"Victor, why did you?" Roberto asked his former best friend.
"The cops... have... 'Fonso," Victor gasped. "It was gonna be my turn to take over." He looked at Roberto. "Lo siento, 'Berto."
His eyes went vacant.
Roberto brandished the .38 and looked around. "Who's out there?"
Just me.
Roberto turned as a figure landed softly on the ground next to him. It was a built guy, about 5'10", and he was carrying a big rifle.
"It's... it's you," Roberto stammered.
The Unidentified Man nodded.
"I knew you'd find me sooner or later, pistolero."
The Unidentified Man just stood there.
"You gonna kill me or what?" Roberto asked. "Go ahead." He spread his arms open and gestured to his chest. "Right here. My life is over anyway. It don't matter. I'm nobody."
The Unidentified Man looked down.
"I'm nobody too," he replied at last.
Roberto stared at him curiously.
"I know who you are, Roberto," the stranger said. "You didn't kill any of those girls. You didn't even take them in the first place. All you did was run the camera. Why?"
Roberto shook his head.
"You always wanted to make Hector and Alfonso happy. You didn't want them to kill you like they killed other guys who didn't listen to them. You wanted to bring Los Hermanos a little respect. Isn't that right?"
Roberto nodded. "Si. So what are you gonna do?"
The man whipped out a .44 with a laser sight. "I should kill you like I killed the others."
Roberto tensed.
"But what would that prove?"
The man shook his head. "You know what it's like not to know who you are or what you should do. That's why you wanted out. Isn't it?"
Roberto nodded.
"All you wanted was to find out who you are."
Roberto nodded again. Behind him, he could hear the Amtrak approaching.
The .44 lowered. "Get on the train," the Unidentified Man ordered, pointing to the ticket booth.
Roberto's jaw dropped.
"I'm not going to tell you twice." The man gestured with his rifle. "Get out of here. And don't make me regret this."
Roberto turned and ran for the ticket counter as fast as he could.
Behind him, the Unidentified Man turned and melted into the shadows, leaving behind no trace of his presence, as always.