The open window let in the cool night air. Bryden Shaw looked out across the lawn to the boat shed and the lake beyond. The moon reflected on the still water. Only minutes earlier he\u2019d watched the rain dance on the shed roof, the trees whip about in the wind.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>On his watch, the hands met at twelve. By now it was surely done.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Every penny of fifty grand well spent to be rid of Jerry Wilde\u2014cost of mixing with gutter rats.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden sat behind his desk. Jerry Wilde stood gazing through the window at the Manhattan skyline like he\u2019d never before seen it from above. \u201cHeck of a view.\u201d Wilde nodded. \u201cBut I imagine a man would get used to it after a while.\u201d He lifted his eyebrows and smiled.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden, fists clenched, stared at the tall skinny man in the faded blue jeans and the shiny shoes. The stink of cigarettes hovered around him like a threat.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m the kind of man you want on your side, Shaw. Think about it,\u201d Wilde said. He pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from his pocket. The crinkling plastic irritated Bryden. Wilde extracted a cigarette and flicked it to his lip. With a cheeky salute, he opened the door and left.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden forced himself to relax. He drummed the desk and considered his move.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>No one was using the payphones in Grand Central. Bryden wondered why they still existed now that everyone aged ten and above had a cell. Maybe the only people who found them useful anymore were those with something to hide.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The one he stood closest to rang. He picked it up. \u201cCancer,\u201d a male voice said.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Heart slamming in his chest, Bryden said, \u201cCapricorn.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cHoliday Inn on East Broadway.\u201d The voice continued in a neutral accent. \u201cTomorrow night. Pay with cash. Leave client\u2019s details in a plain white envelope in the safe. The fee also goes in the safe, in a separate envelope. Use 1982 to lock the safe. Check out no later than 7 AM the following morning. Contract will be fulfilled no more than two weeks later.\u201d The line went dead.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The glass of brandy halfway to his mouth, Bryden heard the engine before he saw the lights appear from behind the ancient oak. He wasn\u2019t expecting visitors.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>He went to the front door just as the car pulled up: a cheap Honda or Toyota or some such. The engine died, lights too, and the door opened. Jerry Wilde unfolded himself from the driver\u2019s seat. As he turned to face Bryden, he took a drag from his cigarette. The tip glowed orange-red like the devil\u2019s furnace.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Wilde sauntered up the steps. \u201cOne heck of a storm, there. Thought I wouldn\u2019t make it.\u201d He flicked the cigarette onto the lawn and stepped into the large hall. \u201cNow isn\u2019t that something,\u201d he said, admiring the expanse, the polished wood stretching into the distance. \u201cCould fit a bowling alley in here.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden turned to him, still holding the door handle with his left hand, the forgotten brandy in his right. \u201cI\u2019ll have the same,\u201d Wilde said, pointing at the snifter as he walked into the softly lit drawing-room. Bryden closed the door and followed. Wilde lowered himself into an armchair, knees pointed at the ceiling. Bryden poured a second brandy, handed the glass to his visitor, then sat on the edge of the couch opposite.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cCheers,\u201d Wilde said. He took a sip, raised his eyebrows. \u201cExcellent. Wouldn\u2019t expect anything else, of course. Nothing but the best for Mr. Shaw.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Speechless, Bryden tried to figure out what had gone wrong.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cBit of a shock for you, I imagine,\u201d Wilde continued, \u201cseeing me here.\u201d He tipped the glass towards Bryden. \u201cWe\u2019re quite the surprise to each other.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden tried to speak. Words wouldn\u2019t form.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYou expected them to get the job done. And why not? They know what they\u2019re doing. Plain white envelope, target details within. Passed through trusted fingers until it reaches the trigger man.\u201d Wilde rested his head on the high back of the chair while balancing the brandy on the armrest. \u201cApart from the secret few who approve the hit, only the trigger man sees what\u2019s inside that envelope. It\u2019s his responsibility from then on. Freelancers mostly. Reliable. Two weeks is more than enough for men like that to plan, and execute.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden tried to catch up. How did Wilde know all this?<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cIt was a bit rude of you, Shaw. And unexpected. You never know the type you\u2019re dealing with.\u201d Wilde shook his head. \u201cAnyway, here we are, the two weeks are up and I should be dead.\u201d He stared into the brandy. A shadow flickered across his eyes. \u201cRoll of the die,\u201d he said, twirling the glass. \u201cHad it been passed to one of the others, I would be dead.\u201d He brightened. \u201cBut it wasn\u2019t.\u201d He threw Bryden a wink. \u201cI played it out ’till the end, just for a laugh. I knew you\u2019d be waiting.\u201d He gulped down the rest of the brandy and fired the glass at the floor.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden jumped as it smashed into a thousand pieces.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Jerry Wilde stood up.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden shuffled back on the couch, his mouth slightly open as he looked up at the tall figure in the light blue jeans and the leather jacket.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYou should\u2019ve taken me in, Shaw, like I asked you to.\u201d Jerry pulled out his pack of cigarettes, flicked one to his lip. \u201cThen I wouldn\u2019t have been freelancing.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Bryden Shaw never got a word in.<\/p>\n END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The open window let in the cool night air. Bryden Shaw looked out across the lawn to the boat shed and the lake beyond. The moon reflected on the still water. Only minutes earlier he\u2019d watched the rain dance on the shed roof, the trees whip about in the wind. +++++On his watch, the hands […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":268,"featured_media":5278,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"This Wednesday, Close To The Bone presents 'In the Loop' by James Rogers. In this dark tale, revenge is a dish served raw and squirming.","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1462,1177,1452],"tags":[79,816,820,1179,1178,834],"class_list":["post-5276","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-j","category-james-rogers","category-short-story","tag-crime","tag-crime-fiction","tag-crime-noir","tag-in-the-loop","tag-james-rogers","tag-revenge"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1Zyqm-1n6","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/10\/skull-2456396_1920.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5276","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/268"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5276"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5276\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5278"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5276"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5276"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5276"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}