The Holdup_Crime & Action Thriller Series by Rob Aspinall

Author:Rob Aspinall [Aspinall, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-06T22:00:00+00:00

28

Mr Box preferred the sound of a gun. The feel of a blade as it slipped into a man's flesh. Or a woman's, for that matter. He didn't discriminate between the sexes. Unless the assignment involved a child or minor. Those jobs, he politely refused.

Yet while some contractors rarely deviated from their preferred delivery method, Mr Box liked to remain flexible. He found many of his peers were interested in pleasing their own methods—the familiar, the comfortable. Mr Box's sole interest was in pleasing results. This, he believed, was why he never failed. And furthermore, why he was able to charge far more than his competitors.

In the spirit of flexibility, he had opted for a bespoke toxin. He gave his pharmacist a brown bag of money and a list of requirements. The pharmacist handed him a homemade solution. One that didn't come with a name or recipe. Very difficult for a paramedic to identify and almost impossible to treat. If, indeed, they ever got to the subject in time. Which they never did.

So when it was the right tool, for the right time, for the right environment, Mr Box was happy to work with a needle.

With a perfected technique, one could puncture a target's skin without their knowledge. And in the most public of places. Mr Box had picked his moment. As Curtis Blake had reached up to stow his luggage away, his shirt had rode up away from his skin, Mr Box had delivered the injection in the blink of an eye, the needle was in and out and back in Mr Box's pocket faster than anyone could have seen.

Misdirection was key. Distract the target with a physical or mental task. It worked wonders.

As Blake breathed his last breath, Mr Box took his phone from an inside jacket pocket. He took a silent photograph of Blake with the flash disabled, Blake's head resting against the window.

Mr Box pocketed the phone and pulled Blake's wallet from his jeans. He rose from his seat and reached overhead. He pulled down Blake's case and carried it along the aisle to the nearest door. He stepped off the train while the guard's back was turned. The man blew his whistle and the train doors closed.

As the Amtrak to Tijuana pulled away from the platform, Mr Box set the case down, extended the handle and wheeled it behind him. He walked along the platform and the main concourse, weaving through crowds of commuters. He brought the case to a stop when he reached the bank of lockers. He took out Blake's wallet and found two credit cards, black and silver. He inserted the silver one first into the payment machine. A message onscreen declined the card: unrecognised. Mr Box returned the card to its slot inside the wallet and tried the black credit card instead.

This time, the machine recognised the card. There was a charge—the PIN pre-entered by Blake. Mr Box pushed the pay button and turned to see locker twenty-two spring open. He removed the card from the machine and returned it to the wallet.

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