behind the aging white woman glanced nervously up and down the dimly lit hallway. The small lights set in the ceiling of the gray painted hall were adequate, but one of the bulbs in the middle had burned out, causing a dimness in the narrow passage.
Because of that very factor, when the man caught sight of Daddy Cool approaching, he never noticed the knife the slim black man carried. At first, he was startled to see the light-complexioned Negro, but almost instantly he remembered having seen the man sitting around the lobby, so his initial fear was quickly dissolved.
To him, Daddy Cool was just another of the forgotten people who were living out their last years at the hotel. A nobody, a person you saw but just as quickly forgot.
So it came as a complete shock to him when he heard his date cry out. Still he was unaware of his danger. "What? What the hell is wrong?" he managed to say before his date fell back against him in terror.
"Please, please," she cried, and her voice began to rise.
In another second she would scream, Daddy Cool realized, and that was something he didn't want to happen. No noise was the best play of the game, so instead of taking the mark out of the game first, Daddy Cool knew he would have to waste time on the woman.
Desperately, she tried to turn and flee, even though no threats or words had been spoken. She saw death bearing down on her in the form of a tall, light-skinned black man. Before she could turn around, Daddy Cool made one of his swift underhand throws. The knife seemed to twist in the air twice before it came to rest between the large breasts of the woman. She groaned, then slumped over.
Realization finally dawned on the middle-aged black man. Even though there hadn't been any sounds other than a thump when the woman fell, he knew somehow that she was dead. His eyes grew as large as picture windows when he saw a knife appear in the assassin's hand. He put his hands out in front of himself and backed up.
"Wait, wait a minute, mister. Please, God, please. I can pay. I mean I can really.... Lord of Mercy, help!"
He began to scream as he saw the man draw back his arm and begin the throw. His scream was cut off as the well-aimed knife struck him in the heart. He gripped the blade sticking out of him, but it was only in desperation. His struggles were in vain as he fell against the wall. His body continued to jerk for a brief period. In fact, he was dead on his feet.
Daddy Cool didn't bother to look back as he hurried toward his exit. He reached the stairway before he even bothered to look back. He was glad to see that nobody had bothered to come out of any of the apartments yet. Closing the door behind him, he hurried down the stairs, praying that no one would see him.
His luck held out until he reached the last flight leading to the ground floor, then someone opened the bottom door. He froze on the stairway, holding his breath. Whatever happened, he didn't plan on leaving any eyewitnesses. Too many people had already seen him around the hotel, so it would be foolhardy to leave anyone alive who could identify him.
Anxiously he waited, but he heard no footsteps. Whoever opened the door hadn't bothered to come up. Slowly he began to inch his way down the steps, taking one at a time, making no sound whatsoever. He was like a large black cat, stalking his prey. Seething with the desire to hurry, he fought for control. At any moment, anybody could sound the alarm.
But the compulsion to run was on him. Knowing that the two bodies upstairs were already discovered, he wanted to break from his cover and bolt. Yet caution and experience made him use firm control. When he finally achieved his destination, he was surprised to find that no one was there. He had half expected to find a drunk sitting on the bottom of the steps. Instead, there was no one.
Daddy Cool spotted an abandoned brown paper bag. He could see the empty beer cans and other pieces of garbage protruding from the bag. He
Because of that very factor, when the man caught sight of Daddy Cool approaching, he never noticed the knife the slim black man carried. At first, he was startled to see the light-complexioned Negro, but almost instantly he remembered having seen the man sitting around the lobby, so his initial fear was quickly dissolved.
To him, Daddy Cool was just another of the forgotten people who were living out their last years at the hotel. A nobody, a person you saw but just as quickly forgot.
So it came as a complete shock to him when he heard his date cry out. Still he was unaware of his danger. "What? What the hell is wrong?" he managed to say before his date fell back against him in terror.
"Please, please," she cried, and her voice began to rise.
In another second she would scream, Daddy Cool realized, and that was something he didn't want to happen. No noise was the best play of the game, so instead of taking the mark out of the game first, Daddy Cool knew he would have to waste time on the woman.
Desperately, she tried to turn and flee, even though no threats or words had been spoken. She saw death bearing down on her in the form of a tall, light-skinned black man. Before she could turn around, Daddy Cool made one of his swift underhand throws. The knife seemed to twist in the air twice before it came to rest between the large breasts of the woman. She groaned, then slumped over.
Realization finally dawned on the middle-aged black man. Even though there hadn't been any sounds other than a thump when the woman fell, he knew somehow that she was dead. His eyes grew as large as picture windows when he saw a knife appear in the assassin's hand. He put his hands out in front of himself and backed up.
"Wait, wait a minute, mister. Please, God, please. I can pay. I mean I can really.... Lord of Mercy, help!"
He began to scream as he saw the man draw back his arm and begin the throw. His scream was cut off as the well-aimed knife struck him in the heart. He gripped the blade sticking out of him, but it was only in desperation. His struggles were in vain as he fell against the wall. His body continued to jerk for a brief period. In fact, he was dead on his feet.
Daddy Cool didn't bother to look back as he hurried toward his exit. He reached the stairway before he even bothered to look back. He was glad to see that nobody had bothered to come out of any of the apartments yet. Closing the door behind him, he hurried down the stairs, praying that no one would see him.
His luck held out until he reached the last flight leading to the ground floor, then someone opened the bottom door. He froze on the stairway, holding his breath. Whatever happened, he didn't plan on leaving any eyewitnesses. Too many people had already seen him around the hotel, so it would be foolhardy to leave anyone alive who could identify him.
Anxiously he waited, but he heard no footsteps. Whoever opened the door hadn't bothered to come up. Slowly he began to inch his way down the steps, taking one at a time, making no sound whatsoever. He was like a large black cat, stalking his prey. Seething with the desire to hurry, he fought for control. At any moment, anybody could sound the alarm.
But the compulsion to run was on him. Knowing that the two bodies upstairs were already discovered, he wanted to break from his cover and bolt. Yet caution and experience made him use firm control. When he finally achieved his destination, he was surprised to find that no one was there. He had half expected to find a drunk sitting on the bottom of the steps. Instead, there was no one.
Daddy Cool spotted an abandoned brown paper bag. He could see the empty beer cans and other pieces of garbage protruding from the bag. He
Similar Books
