Penance

“What do you write in that thing anyway?” I asked my partner, trying to make small talk while I wiped the blood off my knife.

“Our penance,” he responded as he continued scribbling in his little black book.

It’s been a couple months since we were paired up together. I noticed early on my partner’s routine. Whenever we completed a job, he would scope out the area and wander around to make sure there were no other witnesses. Once he felt safe, he whipped out his book and pen. It looked like he was jotting down anything that piqued his interest: framed photos, artwork on the walls, any family heirlooms and jewelry.

At first, I thought he was noting what was worth stealing. A more cynical theory of mine was this was just his way to pass the time, leaving me the menial, messier task of cleaning and erasing any evidence that we were ever there. But we both knew there was always a time crunch in case relatives, friends, or any other witnesses could show up.

This was a job where we delivered our assigned targets to Boss. Targets knew something they shouldn’t have. What they knew, I didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Bills needed to be paid, and this was a job I happened to be good at. My partner and I collected our payments through the untraceable cryptocurrency HitCoin.

But my new colleague never revealed what he was specifically writing about in that book of his. I didn’t mind, but if he was doing it so I got stuck with cleaning duty, then we’d have a problem.

I thought I could try to get an answer over breakfast at our usual diner, now that our work was done for the night. But as usual, no dice.

“The less you know, the better,” he said.

I didn’t press any further and moved on to more important matters. “Fine. So how much did we make from this job?” I was expecting the usual $1,000, for each of us. Lives aren’t worth much more than a couple of Spamilton tickets as it turns out.

He looked at his phone and suddenly stopped chewing his breakfast, eyebrows starting to furrow. He looked up at me, back at his phone, then at his breakfast plate, up at me again, and finally back at his phone.

“We didn’t get paid,” he said shocked, taking me aback too. We usually received payment immediately after making a delivery. “I’ll contact Boss,” He said as he stepped outside. “Don’t touch my bacon.”

I was groggy. I wasn’t going to take your bacon in the first place. No need to accuse me that I would steal, I thought to myself. I started to sip my coffee and brought out my phone to doublecheck that my partner wasn’t putting me on. And I nearly burned my lips on the coffee I saw a new deposit of $20,000 in my crypto-wallet.

I turned my head toward the window to see if my partner was still outside on his phone. He seemed to be talking to Boss. I looked back at my phone, and the HitCoins were still there. It wasn’t like Boss to make a mistake, but I didn’t think last night’s job merited $20,000. I hadn’t ever had to split my earnings with my partner before either. We would both get the same amount in each of our accounts. Maybe this was some new accounting gimmick Boss didn’t yet tell us about.

Before I got the chance to get up and wave my partner over, my phone rang. The annoying thing about our business is the lack of Caller ID. You don’t really have the option to let it go to voicemail either.

“Hello? This better not be about my vehicle’s extended warranty,” I answered.

“Listen and don’t speak. Don’t react either,” a distorted voice answered back, unamused by my greeting. “Your partner’s still talking to Boss, and we don’t have much time. Consider those coins your advanced deposit. Delivery must be made tonight.”

The call hung up before I could get a word in. I glanced at the window and my partner was heading back in. I quickly pocketed my phone while sipping my coffee before he sat back down. He looked annoyed.

“Boss is saying we’re not done apparently,” he said. “Claims there’s one more target related from last night. We’re going back tonight to finish the job and then we’ll get paid.”

“That wasn’t in the intel,” I objected. “Who’d we miss?”

My partner looked down at his plate and resumed cutting his bacon and eggs. “The new target is flying in later tonight after she didn’t hear from her dad last night.”

I took another sip of my coffee.

“Tonight?” I asked.

“Tonight,” he said.

“I don’t like returning to the same place twice,” I asked. “Why didn’t Boss just have us wait and do a two-for-one job tonight?”

“Just one of those outliers. They were supposedly estranged. No one thought she was going to try and get in touch. So now she’s coming to check in with him to make sure he’s okay.”

“So why not just let the daughter think he disappeared?” I asked, still trying to figure out if Boss was giving us or just me a target for tonight.

“She may want to know why he disappeared and try to learn what her dad knew. Best to get rid of her before she goes down the rabbit hole.” My partner paused for a while before going back to his breakfast.

“Remember. The less you know, the better.”

...............................................................

Hours had passed as we waited in the same room from last night in complete darkness. It felt unsettling to be back, but at least we knew our surroundings. My partner was standing beside the door, piano wires taut in his hand. I was a few feet away with my knife, debating what was the most painless way to do the job. We remained in silence, not wanting to risk being heard. I could still make out his silhouette from the faint light coming from under the door.

But as the evening grew late, doubt crept in.

What if there really is a daughter coming? Or can I just get this over with right now, I thought. Will I have to deal with two targets tonight? That’s a lot to clean up…

The deadline to make the delivery was approaching. I decided it was now or never. I tiptoed toward my partner, but suddenly he looked my way, and I froze. Luckily, we both heard the faint sound of footsteps from the other side of the door.

I nodded to my partner as a single bead of sweat dripped down from my head. He turned his attention back on the door as I crept closer to him. I was now preparing to do a two-for-one job tonight. It’ll be easier to get rid of the daughter with the both of us, I thought. And then I’ll deal with my partner after.

“Hey,” my partner whispered out of the blue, catching me off guard. “who were you talking to on the phone?”

What?

I tried to shush my partner, as the footsteps coming from down the hall were starting to get louder.

“Now is not the time,” I whispered back.

“Was it Boss?” He asked.

I thought you were on the phone with Boss.

“No hard feelings, partner. But I lied earlier,” he continued. “I did receive payment, but it was so high, I had to step out of the diner to talk to Boss to doublecheck. But someone else on behalf of Boss called right when I stepped out.”

The footsteps were getting alarmingly louder. My hand was shaking. He turned toward me again.

“And the target is-“

Before he could finish, my body moved on its own. My hand with my knife lunged like lightning. He dropped to his knees, letting go of the wires from his hands to keep the blood from spilling from his neck. My partner slowly reached down his jacket pocket. I knew he didn’t have a gun, nor the strength to attack back.

It was his little black notebook.

“Our penance,” he wheezed, dropping the notebook from his hand before the rest of his body collapsed on the floor.

I heard the footsteps get even louder until they stopped at the door. I saw a shadow peering from under the frame and readied myself, trying to keep my cool.

But the footsteps carried on and faded away into nothing. I stood there in silence with my partner lying in front of me as a pool of his blood started to encircle his entire body.

No daughter after all, I thought, turning on the lights. I sighed, now focusing on how to clean up the room and make the delivery on time. But something else was on the back of my mind.

I knelt down and picked up my partner’s now-bloodied book. I sat down and began to skim through the pages. It turns out it wasn’t a list of items he was planning to steal after all. The entries were all about our target’s lives. He took notes on how many family members he could count from family photos. He determined what family heirlooms were passed down for generations. He took a guess on their sense of taste based on their books, clothes, the art on the walls. He was writing obituaries about all our targets with as much information he could find whenever we finished a job.

For him, writing about the lives we took was our penance. The guilt of taking lives must have made him pick up the pen. And according to my partner’s last entry, our target from last night did have a daughter. So that must have been his cover story for us to come back here.

The more I looked through the book, I noticed one more category: “What They Knew.” And all were connected by the fact that they knew Boss’ real identity. Something I didn’t even know.

I was about to turn the page that had more info on Boss, but there was a knock on the door.

“Delivery,” a woman’s voice came from the other side. This was a code. I tucked away my knife and opened the door. The woman walked in, stood over the body of my former partner for a few seconds, and turned to me.

“Boss sent me,” she said. “Here to help with the delivery.”

“That was you who walked by earlier, wasn’t it,” I asked. “Those heels of yours make a pretty loud footstep.”

I saw her eyes glance at the notebook still in my hand. I casually put the book in my pocket as if it were mine.

“It was also me that called you,” she answered. “Boss was wary that your partner was starting to know things he shouldn’t. You know how he is with information. Don’t worry, money’s still in your account.”

I paused, still trying to piece everything she was saying. And then I remembered my partner’s last words.

“You’re not with the Boss,” I objected. “You called us both and set us up while waiting outside to kill each other.”

And then it clicked.

“Boss is your target, isn’t he?” I concluded. “You’re the daughter of the person we targeted last night.”

She stood there with a calm face as if she was waiting for me to figure it out. She kept her eyes on the pocket I put my partner’s book in.

“How much do you know?” I asked. I slowly started to reach behind my back for my knife.

“Remember,” she said. I could see her hands reach behind hers.

“The less you know, the better.”