No happy ending - rough copy.

Stepping off the tube, Robert can do nothing to hide the smile playing across his normally deadpan face. All of a sudden he can remember exactly how it felt to be a child on the last day of school before the holidays, the nervous longing in his stomach still feels exactly the same except that after today he will not be on holiday he will be starting a new life. The moment he finishes work, he is off to the airport from where he and Sarah will fly off into the sunset. For most people this would not be complicated, but Robert is not most people. He is a professional killer planning to run off with his bosses’ wife.


Strolling through the crowds of morning commuters, he cannot help but wonder if his love is awake yet. Robert knows he should keep his mind on his assignment but since Connor, his boss and Sarah’s husband, is on holiday for a week he has had no excuse to call to around the house, meaning he is missing her terribly. Stopping at the left luggage lockers, Robert removes a holdall stashed there for him the day before, and then with it safely secured over one shoulder he exits the station.


Having arrived way to early for the job, and unable to hang around the target area without raising suspicion Robert does the tourist thing. Puttering from shop to art gallery to shop, he twice checks the price of the cab fare to the airport before giving up and phoning Sarah.

“Hello?” She answers on the second ring.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” Robert whispers.

“Is something wrong?” she asks her voice deep with concern.

“No,” he soothes, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You scared me,” Sarah scolds, “I was just heading to the beauticians.”

“Why?” Robert asks his heart aching for her.

“I go every week,” she reminds him. “It would look weird if I didn’t go, and besides I want to look good for you.”

“How sweet of you,” Robert gushes down the line.

“I got to go,” she whispers “someone’s coming, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies on reflex, but he is talking to the dial tone.


After what feels like a lifetime, it is finally time for him to get into position for the job. His target is a college lecturer who after running up debts to Connor decided to talk to the police, climbing onto the roof of a deserted office block Robert wonders if he will miss this part of the job. Pulling on his gloves, he chases these thoughts from his mind, selecting his spot he assembles the Armalite rifle from his holdall and squats down into the prone firing position.

He is still in that position five minutes later, when two set of footsteps burst onto the rooftop screaming, “Move and you’re dead.”

Robert is good enough at his job to know that heroics kill more people than second hand smoke, and that anybody who is talking to you generally don’t want you dead yet. Staying very still, he waits for more instructions to come.


“Place the rifle down slowly, and slide it away from you,” commands a second male voice.

Doing exactly as instructed, Robert begins to wonder if the men behind him are officers of the law, and then he wonders if they are straight or on Connors payroll.

“Lock your fingers behind your head, and place your nose on the tarmac,” the voice continues.

With his face down on the ground, Robert is careful not to look around as one of them moves in front of and places something down. In the distance, he can hear a bell ringing to signal lunchtime.

“Lift your head,” the first voice instructs him, “the boss wants you to see this.”

Lifting his head, Robert’s internal organs turn to ice and his testicles shrivel like prunes because in front of him is a glossy picture of he and Sarah’s first kiss.

“What have you done with her?” he croaks.

“Don’t worry,” the second voice tells him, “you’ll see her soon enough.”

“Yeah in hell, asshole.” screams the first voice seconds before the bullets begin to fly.

Six or seven shots rack Roberts’s body, not killing him out right but leaving him unable to even move as his killers make a clean escape. In the distance, he can hear an ambulance wailing, but Robert knows it will never reach him in time. As the blackness edges into the edges of his vision, he prays they were lying about Sarah.