The Black Audi

The Black Audi

By Jij Berg

The interior of the black Audi was dark and cool. B kept the temperature just above ten degrees, enough to prevent the windows from fogging. He circled the outskirts of the city, looking for good lines of sight and potential routes the hunter might use. In the autumn night, the matte black station wagon with dark tinted windows was barely visible. B merged onto the highway circling the city, and smiled as he floored the gas pedal. The V8 roared as it passed five thousand RPM before shifting smoothly down to cruising speed. No need to take risks, he wasn’t in a rush. The cops could even pull him over, he had a valid european license. They wouldn’t find a reason to search the car. And even if they did, they wouldn’t find the gun compartment under the back seat, they had tried before.

B took exit fifteen and after a few hundred meters on smaller roads he pulled into a parking lot next to a church. Parked beneath a tree, the car would be nearly invisible. B got out of the car to stretch his legs. He was a big man, two meters tall, all muscle. People often assumed he’d be clumsy or slow. He was neither. As he strolled, he kept a constant eye on the fields. This was a good spot for watching the western parts of the city limits. He had a feeling that she lived outside the city. No one could stay hidden right under the clan’s nose. He had wasted five nights on a parking lot outside a residential area to the south. She had attacked nearby earlier. B lit a cigarette and checked the encrypted group chat, over thirty clan members on the watch, and not a single sighting. There was another group following a rival facilitator known as “The Doctor”. That group was updated with new information every minute. He would have preferred that job. That was personal, a well known target, an independent professional. The air was cool and he enjoyed it. Once the cigarette burned out, he got back in the car. There he sat, in the middle of nowhere, looking for an athletic woman carrying a light backpack. Not much to work with. But this was his chosen strategy, hunting by waiting. It was either that or using someone as bait, but nobody had volunteered. Strange. These days they could usually find some desperate teenager to do almost anything for ten grand. B guessed that the rumours of this man hunt had been blown out of proportion. After all, they were only chasing a single woman… or?

He zoned out, watching the edge of the fields glow under the highway’s yellow light. At the brink of falling asleep he looked sternly at himself in the rear view mirror. It would be morning in three hours, he could sleep then. The brief glance reminded him of his age. He had a white streak in his black beard, where “The Doctor” had sliced his jaw. A knife fight ten years ago, a debt he still had to pay back, with interest. B was getting old and he knew it. Soon younger and hungrier talent would replace him, some fifteen year old that had never held a gun. Someone just like himself, thirty years ago. But there was a difference, the youngsters of today had no sense of discreteness or timing. That was why he was still in demand. He didn’t just kill. He made people disappear. He was known for his reputation, contracted by everyone from clan patriarchs to top politicians. The car was even registered to one of them. An indebted man like him, couldn’t be the registered owner of a car like this. Few recognized his face, they only knew what car he drove. A top of the line black Audi had always been his only companion. B remembered his first job, so smooth that the victim’s girlfriend had helped him move the dead body to the car. The times were different now, bosses wanted statements, public shootings.

A shadow crossed the highway and B was on full alert. Too far away to be certain. He stepped out of the car and followed the road heading into the city with his eyes. Someone was jogging towards the city. He couldn’t tell if it was a woman, the strides were long and powerful. But he knew it was way too early for a morning jog. Back in the car he texted the group, “Possible sighting, not far from the car window repair shop.”. In less than a minute someone replied, “Which one!?” and he clarified, “The one west of the city, next to exit fifteen.”. There were thumbs up from two others, the noose of surveillance was tightening. Ten minutes passed before the next confirmation came through. “We’ve got the bitch. Backpack, green outdoor pants and brown goretex jacket. I know the brand, ‘Haglöfs’. She’s turning south.”. A moment later another confirmation, “She’s on a bike now, heading southwest.”. He wanted to get a look at her, even if an opportunity to terminate tonight was unlikely.

When he turned the ignition all fatigue disappeared. He checked Google Maps briefly, mapping out his route. The bike path she would likely choose crossed one of the main city commuter roads. There was a gas station there. To have some margin he took off with haste. It would take him less than two minutes to cover the five kilometers to the gas station. The head lights were turned off, he was a black cannonball hurling through the night. Dim reflections of the street lights flashed like a stroboscope in the hood. At exit fourteen he left the outer highway ring and headed along the commuter road at full throttle. The intersection with the inner highway was in two levels and he only slowed down slightly before pulling to a stop at the gas station two hundred meters beyond. The cashier stiffened as he entered, the boy glancing nervously at a baseball bat by the counter. B smiled in amusement, what did that kid think he could do with a bat? The smile had a calming effect until B put a five hundred SEK bill on the desk, asking for gas. Only criminals paid cash, and they both knew it. The boy accepted the bill with a nod and B returned to fill up his car.

His vantage point was ideal, the commuter road was perfectly straight. If she still headed southwest, there would be no way she could cross without him noticing. He paced back and forth with the phone in his hand, waiting for a visual or a vibration. B glanced at the no smoking sign and then back to the boy inside. Deciding that the boy would not interfere, he lit up a cigarette while the pump did its work. In less than a minute, the woman came pedaling along on the bike path. She spotted him instantly, and he looked down. One look was enough to burn her face into his memory, a timeless beauty. He turned to the pump in an effort to look casual, but from the corner of his eye he could see how she followed his every move. There was a deliberate efficiency to her movement. Even when she turned to cross the road, her gaze never left him. He felt as if she’d marked him. She disappeared between the houses on the other side, B let out a sigh of relief. He had been told by the boss that all operatives facing her had died. He had been nervous about such a dangerous target. But now he only felt determination and purpose. There was danger and… attraction. He couldn’t pinpoint her age, she wasn’t young. If only circumstances had been different... He could be shot in a restaurant any day, by a teenager hired by a rival clan. That would be embarrassing. Dying at the hand of another professional, a respected enemy, there was honor in that. The pump handle clicked and the gas stopped flowing. He put the handle back in the pump and flicked the cigarette to the ground before entering the car.

B thought again on her face and how she had looked at him, and regretted his decision to come to the gas station. He had been foolish, given himself away. He pulled out from the station onto the commuter road and headed for the highway. In a last second change of mind, he swerved the car around and drove into the city. Following her too closely would be another mistake. She was up to something and he needed to give her space to let it happen. He had to trust that his sources would be able to update him and catch her when returning home. Wherever that was. She would have a heightened sense of awareness and paranoia after a mission, but that always faded quickly. At that moment of weakness. When her mind told her she was clear. Then he would strike. The commuter road bisected the entire city, separating the central parts from the southern part. It had two files in each direction and in low traffic he could get from end to the other in less than two minutes. He knew just the place to wait.

B cruised through the city, and parked at the hospital parking lot. With the entire region hospital on the other side of the road, there were always some cars parked here. Enough to blend in. The parking lot was only ten meters from the commuter road, and four hundred meters from a roundabout that allowed him to go south and north as well. He turned off the ignition with a sigh of relief, this was a good spot. Updates came more frequently now. She had turned due west and approached clan territory. At this hour nobody was foolish enough to enter clan territory. There was something about her and it gnawed at him. Her looks and behaviour had etched into his mind, and he couldn’t make sense of it. He summarized what he knew: She was a professional. But not his kind. She was attractive. But not his type. Then it struck him. She wasn’t human. She was something else. The phone display flashed, “North of the hills, heading straight towards Dealers Bridge.” B saw it in front of him. She would strike at the bridge. But why? Did she hate drug dealers? Anybody in the city knew that taking out a dealer would only see another taking his place the next night. The clan had an infinite supply of young people who saw dealing as their ticket to gang cred and gold necklaces. It must be personal. Had she lost a relative? There would be two boys at Dealers Bridge, even before the phone lit up he knew it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Being seen at the gas station had been a bad decision, this… This was cost of doing business. “OMG! She hit the boys at the bridge! She cut off their heads!” the first text said, followed by another, “I’ll get the bitch!”. He reached for the phone to hold off the errand boys, “Stay down, or you’ll be next. She’s mine.”

B got out of the car and opened the door to the back seat. Pulling the seat up, he revealed a small compartment which held a steel box. He unlocked the box by pressing his right index finger to a sensor and opened it. He loaded the pistol and put it in the chest pocket, the other clip in his jacket pocket. Thirty-four bullets, more than he would need, and more than he would have time to use if things went sideways. The phone buzzed twice, and he put the box back and the seat in order before returning to the driver’s seat. “Heading north along the bike path.”. That would take her to the stadium, and then into the park. Or possibly west to circle the park. He started the car and twisted out of the parking lot before flooring it. He wanted to get to the stadium parking lot in good time before she got there.

The stadium parking lot was completely empty, and he didn’t like it. Instead he opted to park to the northeast of the stadium, beneath a few trees. The bike path swept along the other side of the stadium, as soon as she rounded the corner he would spot her in the street lights. Nothing to do but wait. Once this was over he would retire, in his line of business people rarely reached their thirties, unless they grew old behind bars. He was already on overtime. But he had been assigned this task by the clan patriarch, asked as a personal favour. There had been no way to say no. One last job. A few more late nights at the most. He scanned the edge of the park to his right, just at the other side of the commuter road. There was a dense forest of tall trees, it was impossible to see anything beyond the treeline. He didn’t like it all. If she came this way she might try to lose any followers or observers in the park. He had to prevent that, or wait for his next chance. A difficult decision.

Less than five minutes later she appeared, cruising on the bike like she had no care in the world. In less than a second she spotted him, B considered if a supernatural power had guided her gaze. But there was nothing to do about it. He had been made. She accelerated towards the park, with roughly two hundred meters between her and safety. B had the same distance to cover to the spot where the bike path entered the park. She had a flying start. He had six hundred horse powers. The car skidded sideways as all four tires tore at the tarmac struggling for grip. She was halfway across the road. Still in first gear, the V8 changed from a low growl to a singing howl. B was doing almost a hundred km/h when he struck her. There was a thud in the roof, when she flew over the car. He observed her fall in the rear mirror while braking hard. She landed gracefully and was up before he could throw the car around with a pull at the hand brake. He was less than thirty meters away. She was a second too quick, slipping into the park as the car passed less than a metre from her.

B stopped the car and got out. He could smell burnt sulfur from the tires as he walked quickly to where she had disappeared among the trees. He didn’t like this. Not at all. In there, she could hide and jump him. He scanned the trees, hesitated for a moment and turned back to the car. Then a faint sound and the smell of blood reached him. She was wounded, an opportunity to counter balance the darkness of the trees. Breathing in deeply, he pulled out his gun and turned again. Dry leaves rustled underfoot, no matter how carefully he stepped. She would hear him. But so would he if she tried to run away. He kept distance from the thick trunks, an obvious way to hide. Driven by the scent he closed in on a tree, rounding it at three meters distance. She emerged silently, yet moving like lightning. Blood ran down the left side of her face, welling from a cut above her hairline. She was armed with a short sword and got within reach before he could fire. The metal flashed faintly as she slashed at the wrist of his gun hand. He closed in. The blade sliced into his forearm, deep through muscle, all the way to the bone. The pain was intense, but his reinforced jacket saved the arm from being severed. He struck out like a snake with his left hand and grabbed her by her throat. She was surprised by his speed and determination. Blocking the sword with his right hand and still holding on to the gun, he took two steps forward and drove her into the tree trunk, her feet dangling. He was twice her size and three times her strength. Her head bounced forward when he slammed her body into the tree and she dropped the sword, grabbing his gun hand instead. She strained against him, but slowly he turned the gun towards her chest. Despite his wound, he was stronger, her fate was sealed. He locked eyes with her as they struggled. She met his gaze with defiance. Flames of blue fire appeared in her irises, a flash of lightning burned his eyes. He lost his vision and felt a paralysing pain in his left side. She twisted his right arm and held the gun away from herself as he sank to his knees. He looked down without seeing, but he could feel she still held on to the dagger buried in his left side.

She had stabbed the artery connecting the lungs on the left side. He looked at her faintly, he could see in her face that it wasn’t luck. He couldn’t understand how she could know his anatomy to such detail, only within the clan such secrets were known. This was the end, he realized. She had lured him, used herself as bait to hunt him. Decapitating the dealers wasn’t an act of revenge. The cut to her head was selfinflicted. She had forced him to engage. He still had strength, but she had control over both the dagger and the gun. The flames still flickered in her eyes, but he saw no hate in her expression, only sympathy. He stopped fighting, it would be disrespectful not to recognize he had been beaten.

“Do you have your phone on you?” she asked. He nodded in response. “Tell your boss, I’m coming for him.”

“Who should I send word from?” he asked.

“Ysandrin.” She twisted the dagger and pulled it out. Death would come quickly. She let go of the dagger, twisted the gun out of his hand and let him fall to the ground. The leaves rustled as she left. He texted the patriarch. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was a low growl from the V8.

“Bitch.”