The short fat man swirled the brandy and then raised the glass and inhaled the heady fumes. He smiled when he considered that it cost the equivalent of a day's wages for many of the people living in his country. Life was good.
Before he walked towards the balcony doors to open the drapes he turned off the room lights. Even though he was in the penthouse of a fifteen storey building it was best not to take any chances.
The drapes slid back and he opened the doors to step out into the warm night air. As he surveyed the scene below he drew on the Havana cigar and let the smoke drift slowly from his lips. He looked down to the city where advertising banners flashed in chaotic disorder and listened to the hum of activity that arose from below.
His eyes swept to the right to take in the panoramic view and he stiffened in shock when he saw the dark figure standing inside the balcony rail. He tried to grasp the impossible situation; how in God's name? Then he saw the rope dangling from the roof.
The figure appeared to be totally enclosed in a tight black garment and it stood motionless with arms hanging loosely.
His heart thudded in the menacing silence and he began to shuffle backwards into the room. Could he get to his desk and the pistol in the second drawer? The black figure ominously followed him.
In the semi-darkness of the room he continued his slow progress until he felt the desk against the back of his thighs. Carefully he negotiated his way around the desk and then lowered himself into the leather chair. His hands were shaking as he placed his glass on the surface and the cigar in the ashtray.
Fear made him breathless but he tried to keep his voice steady and authoritative as he demanded, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"
The black figure remained silent.
He forced himself to appear relaxed as his hand crept towards the handle of the second drawer. His fingers were trembling as he gripped it and silently slid the drawer open.
With an effort he spoke again and tried to sound indignant when he said, "I asked who you are, what do you want?"
His hand was in the drawer and closing around the butt of the pistol. He felt for the safety catch with his thumb and eased it off.
He now had the pistol firmly grasped and prepared to lift it. He was no expert with a gun but surely he could not miss someone standing less than three metres away?
As he snatched the pistol from the drawer he felt the impact in his chest and the weapon tumbled from his fingers.
He looked up and one of the dark figure's arms was pointing directly towards him. He looked down and stared blankly at the steel handle protruding from the centre of his chest.
At first he felt nothing but then a paroxysm of agony convulsed his body. He tried to stand but his legs were lifeless. He retched and tasted blood.
His body jerked and twisted with excruciating pain but slowly a deadening seeped through his limbs. As he slumped back in the chair he felt himself drifting into a stupor. His last vision before his heart stopped beating was the motionless black figure watching him die.
****************************** Martin sipped his coffee and sneaked a glance to his right. The girl sitting alone was stirring her cup as she watched the traffic go by. There were two tables between them but he had a clear view of her.
The early evening was hot and sticky and he dabbed his forehead with a paper napkin. It was approaching dusk and the street was packed with vehicles and pedestrians and all of them contributed to the cacophony of horns, bicycle bells and shouting voices.
Peddled carts carrying tourists weaved through lines of delivery vans and hand pushed barrows. Pedestrians seemingly oblivious to the moving vehicles continually stepped into the road only to receive screams of abuse from frustrated drivers. It was a scene that repeated itself throughout the day and one with which he was familiar.
After closing his office he occasionally walked to the open café and relaxed with a coffee or an alcoholic drink before returning to his apartment. It was not a regular routine and one that depended upon his mood after the rigours of the day. That was until three evenings ago when he first saw the girl.
On her first visit to the café she sauntered past and sat down at one of the outside tables. A male waiter was instantly at her side and she spoke in the local language. She received her order faster than he was usually served.
He glanced in her direction again and thrilled at her athletic poise. She was quite tall and lounged with her shapely bare legs stretched casually for all to see. Her short dark hair was cheekily tousled and gave her an elfin charm.
He desperately wanted to see her eyes but her gaze was always directly ahead and he had seen only her profile. He made up his mind that if she looked in his direction he would smile in the hope of promoting a conversation, but she never did. He resigned himself to accepting that beautiful young girls were not interested in middle-aged men.
Since becoming a widower he had not attempted another relationship and although he knew he was attractive to women, the trials of courtship had no appeal.
She stood up to leave and tossed some money down without waiting for the check. As she walked away he had an impulse to follow her. He had nothing better to do so why not?
The sidewalk was crowded as she strolled past the many gift shops and restaurants and he stayed several paces behind her. He felt foolish but convinced himself that he was curious only to learn her final destination.
Suddenly she turned into a side street and he stopped when he reached it and peered cautiously around the corner in the direction she had taken. The street contained yet another small market that would remain active until late into the night. She was examining jewellery at one of the stalls and he waited until she continued her stroll before he followed.
The street was a cul-de-sac with an alleyway leading off at the end and he was surprised to see her disappear into it. When he reached the opening he peered into the darkness but she had vanished. He hesitated for a few seconds but curiosity got the better of him. He walked to the end of the dark alley and found himself at the back of the main street buildings. There was no one in sight and all he could see were piles of sacks and cartons awaiting removal.
He knew he should turn back but having got this far he was determined to discover which building she had entered so he decided to walk just a few more paces.
He had passed only three of the rear entrances when a hand grasped his forehead from behind and a knee pressed into the lower part of his back. His legs folded and he saw the glint of a knife.
As the blade was put to his throat his immediate reaction was shock followed by anger that he had been so stupid to follow her. Now he was going to get robbed and probably murdered.
With his head pulled back and pressure still into his back he was unable to move, so he waited fearfully to learn his fate.
Then he became aware of a face close to his ear and a female voice whispered softly, "Why are you following me?"
He mind reeled in surprise followed by relief that perhaps he was not going to be murdered after all. He found it difficult to speak with his head in such a strained position but managed to gasp, "Was I following you?"
"Yes you were. Did you intend to force me to the ground and then rape me?"
It was a struggle to answer but he replied indignantly, "Of course not, I had absolutely no intention of raping you. The thought never entered my head."
Suddenly the hand released his forehead and the knee left his back. Without any apparent effort he was turned and thrust backwards into a pile of plastic sacks. She moved quickly to straddle his lap but the knife stayed at his throat.
As he looked into her face it was too dark to see her eyes and he felt mildly frustrated.
