The Midnight Crime - Chapter 14

It was easier than he’d thought. She was just a stupid girl, killing her would be too messy and he had yet to find out who else knew about him. None of them can see my face and know my name, he reminded himself, or my life is over. He wondered why the package was so important to her, which made him wonder what was in the package. Immediately he felt disgusted with himself. He went by strict rules, complete the mission and never get curious.

The noise of the party reached and grabbed him by his ears the moment he turned into Cyan’s street. There was quite a lot of commotion, which sounded like the waiters cleaning up, the guests had all probably left some time in the night. Midnight was still a couple of hours away, though the night was so dark it felt like the witching hour had decided to come early to haunt the people. He hoped Cyan would be drunk, though it didn’t seem likely. Maybe he had disappeared with the girl, that would be better. They would be busy for a few hours in which he could get the package and get out.

There was a different kind of urgency pressing onto him now, a sense of lingering danger like the sky would explode if he waited any longer. He moved quickly, flashing the new identity card he had got from Cyan at the guards at the doorway. They waved him inside lazily, going back to their card game. The festivities had got to everyone, he regarded them with contempt as he went inside.

The house was quiet, surprising because he was expecting quiet a commotion. A few people milled around, drinks in hand as they laughed sluggishly. They must be the immediate family members, as the waiters had already started clearing away the tables, taking down the flower wreaths and collecting the glasses.

He hurried to the first floor, hoping desperately Cyan would be somewhere else. He did not want to raise a hand on the man who had tried to help him. Worst, if the girl would be with him, he would have to take the both of them out, the thought of which did much to the rising guilt in his heart.

He breathed deep into the carpeted smell of the first floor as he pushed the door of Cyan’s room open, the few people in the hall ignoring him as they continued to party. There was a lethargic silence in the hall, everything was moving too slowly or maybe it felt strange to see the house drenched in silence. A giant mirror in the hall which he hadn’t noticed before twinkled up at him, which he ignored pointedly. He couldn’t bear to look at himself for now.

The room was drenched in desolation, a cold curtain of gloom spread over the furniture, the beauty of which never failed to amaze him like the first time he had seen it. This was an artist’s room and it spoke of it. Falcon hurried over to the safe, removing the picture as he set it back against the wall.

Falcon’s thin fingers found the desired numbers and he pressed on them, each digit making a tiny beep sound into the night. The door clicked open like before, Cyan hadn’t even changed the code. Was the man stupid? It was dark inside and all light was blocked by Falcon’s frame, but he knew the contents would be in there, most probably in a bag, and he prepared himself for the soft feel of a cloth as he put his hand inside.

Instead, his fingers clasped thin air.

Panic is when you are drowning in the river of despair, your feet kicking wildly, while your body thrashes about, hands flailing to locate a string of hope you can cling to. Panic is when you find out what you had worked for, all this time, had been snatched away from you. Panic is when you start hyperventilating, your ribcage moving up and down as your heart beats wildly and your lungs inhale and exhale at the rate of that of a marathon runner who had just finished the tournament. Right now, panic hit Falcon with such force that he was gasping, eyes wide as he thrashed his hand inside the safe, hitting it here and there to somehow find the absent bag. His hand waved fruitlessly in the air, he couldn’t believe it; it was like he was a lab rat and a game was being played with him, while the controllers watched from above and laughed at his sheer state of desperation.

No, this isn’t possible. Cyan did NOT remove the package. He had been on his tail the entire time and not once had he approached the safe.

Relax, Falcon, slow breaths. It will be around here somewhere. He tried wildly to control his breathing, pressing down on his chest to lower the mad beating of his heart. He realized he was sweating, beads of perspiration appearing at his hairline and pouring down his face. He hastily reached up and wiped the sweat, the wildly spinning wheels inside his brain convincing him to stop and think for a second. Even in his state of panic, he admired Cyan’s wit, he had fooled him so bad he wanted to scream. And laugh. And hit him on the head for making him feel this way. All at the same time.

‘How clever of you.’ He grumbled, sparing a glance at the room, as if Cyan was watching him struggle with the safe.

After a while, his breathing steadied and he slowly moved his hands along the wall of the safe, feeling for uneven surfaces that might hint at another secret section inside it. To his immense disappointment, the walls were completely smooth, his fingers moving along them without coming across any slit.

Falcon knew for sure that the package was in there, there was no way his client’s information would be incorrect. He rested his head against the wall beside the safe, his thinking cap on as he ran over his options. He could leave now and come back later. No, till then Cyan would have known he tried to get to the safe and security measures would be doubled, making it impossible to breach them a second time. He could search around the house, he thought, and laughed out loud, this room alone would take several hours to scour, and there wasn’t much time left until he had to make a run for it. As he could easily get out of the city during the night hours, the dark a veil upon his crimes, staying here for even a half hour more wasn’t an option. If dawn broke out, escaping would become an unmanageable task.

Cora, if only you were here. He thought bitterly. Cora would have known what to do. It had been Cora who had taught him about the various tricks and tips, about how there were hiding places beyond hiding places, the safest of them being the ones in plain sight.

Hiding places beyond hiding places? Like an artist struck by an inspiration, Falcon acted suddenly, overwhelmed by his idea, and knocked on the far wall of the safe. The tapping bounced across the room and Falcon’s heart soared, the space behind the wall was hollow, his knocking creating empty thuds on the wood.

‘Not so clever anymore, huh?’ he smirked, applying force on the back wall so that it could slide to one side. According to his expectations, the wall moved smoothly to one side, much like a sliding window and Falcon spied a small hollow, a dark object sitting in there. Falcon could have kissed the bag then, as he lifted it up and felt a comforting heavy feel of an object in there, which rolled about in his palm.

The package he had been struggling to get his hands on for so long was now in his possession.

He clutched the bag to his chest, then put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and zipped it up. He felt like luck had kissed his fate at the moment, reaching out to pull him up from the deepest of a hopeless void.

‘Get out of here, Falcon, and you will be free.’ He spoke aloud to himself.

He breathed several deep sighs, relief the only emotion making him float in a dreamy haze, feelings of accomplishment following right behind. He slid the wall back into place, where it latched into its previous position with a sharp click, and then slid the safe panel back on. It was best if he was discovered late, so he would have enough time to get out of the city. The heavy picture went back onto the wall, but not before Falcon having a brief moment where he considered taking it with him too. There was something about the artist’s strokes that suggested deftness and expertise, of which Falcon was a huge fan.

Oh, he realized dimly. I am Cyan’s fan. Chuckling to himself, he patted his pocket on last time to ensure the bag was still in there.

Where else would it be, Falcon, you are going paranoid, he scolded himself internally as he sighed in relief, when he heard his voice.

‘It’s fake.’ Cyan was standing at the door of the bathroom, the light of which was on as he held a towel in his hand, no doubt to dry his hair with. He was dressed in a loose shirt and boxers again, just like the night he had broken in. Everything was just like that night, him standing by the picture and Cyan slinking up from behind.

He had been too stupid, forgetting to check the bathroom which was the most obvious choice. The artist would be in there, showering and getting ready for bed after a long tiring day. Cyan stood there in the doorway then, staring at him sadly like he had lost something.

‘That is not my concern.’ Falcon responded, moving away from the picture, eyeing the door to his left. ‘My job is done.’

‘Is it?’ Cyan asked. He was moving closer too, trying to do it subtly but Falcon’s sharp eyes missed nothing.

‘Stop.’ Falcon said, taking out the pistol as Cyan covered a few steps.

Cyan stopped in his tracks, though he looked remorseful but still not afraid. Falcon wondered if that man would die while smiling at the grim reaper, convincing him to stop taking people’s souls.

‘Who really are you, Jason?’ Cyan said. ‘Don’t do it. I can help you.’

‘You can’t.’ Falcon snapped, rejecting his guilt trapping. ‘Stand by the closet.’ He ordered, though his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

Cyan didn’t move. ‘You don’t know what you are getting yourself into.’ He wailed, wringing his fingers in distress. ‘This package is the cause of all the problems in my life and you will be in so much trouble if you take it away.’

Falcon snorted. ‘Do think up of a better excuse to make me stay.’ He trained the gun onto his head and gestured with his head. ‘Move.’

Cyan kept his eyes levelled with his’ as he moved over to the closet. ‘I did try to make you stay.’ He said quietly.

‘There you go again.’ Falcon muttered angrily. ‘Lock yourself in the closet and don’t raise a racket. If I get caught, I will make sure to put a bullet inside your skull as I go down.’

Cyan gave a regretful shake of his head. ‘You don’t understand. Let me help you. Stay here.’

Falcon understood what Cyan was trying to do. Convincing him to give up his guard and trust him. He scoffed internally. Trust him. What rubbish. Falcon did not even trust his shadow.

‘One thing you should know Cyan.’ He growled. ‘Is.’ He approached him taking long strides, covering the distance between them in a breath. ‘I.’ He grabbed Cyan’s hand and twisted it, pushing him over to the closet. ‘Do not.’ He jabbed his gun into his back, a warning to open the door. ‘Need help.’ He finished, just as the door opened and he pushed him inside.

Falcon raised a finger to his lips in a mock warning for him to stay quiet. Cyan’s face fell as he stared at him in a silent plea.

‘I was trying to give you a second chance. Turns out I was only being nice to a thief.’ He said quietly.

Falcon growled. ‘Why?’ he brought his face closer to Cyan’s and gave a bitter smile. ‘Why did you try to help me?’

‘You know why.’ Cyan said quietly. ‘You knew I knew you had broken in for this.’ He pointed to the safe. ‘You had pressed a bloody cloth to my face, for heaven’s sake. If I hadn’t held my breath I would be out but luckily I was awake when you jumped in. You pressed the cloth for far less time than you should have.’

He had? He hadn’t noticed. Perhaps it was due to his unwillingness to knock him out.

‘When you stayed, I thought you were ready to start from scratch.’ Cyan continued. ‘I didn’t know….’ He trailed off.

Falcon let out a loud laugh. ‘You are nothing but a stupid foolish man.’

He took two fingers to his head in mock farewell, retreating as he banged the door onto Cyan’s crestfallen face, locking it from the outside.