Twisted Soul – Installment 4

Twisted Soul

By

D.M. KURTZ

Installment 4:

Helpless?

September 11th, 2014

Of all the cursed days, it had to be on the tragically famous 9/11. Twelve years prior, devastation had been wrought when terrorists claimed the lives of two-thousand, nine-hundred and seventy-seven innocent souls. It had been a horrific event unlike anything that the nation had ever seen. How anyone could be capable of such needless violence was a concept that had always astounded Jess, but for someone to act senselessly on the anniversary of that terrorist attack was somehow… extra distasteful.

The remarkable man couldn’t help but quietly curse his keen eye and sharp senses, for though he had always considered them to be his greatest asset, at that particular moment they sought to distract him from his mission. As tough as he’d sometimes found it to swallow, the mission had to come first: always. He glowered while his acute gaze observed the figure of a short man who stood a little ways down the street. At the late night hour, well past closing time just outside a high-end jeweler, the man wore a dark hoodie; his head shifted from side to side, and he bounced lightly on his heels.

Jess sighed. His instincts screamed at him to take action, despite the slight bulge that manifested itself under the jacket whenever the man twisted to the right.

Left-handed and armed, but nervous… Likely desperate. He processed the mental profile in a matter of moments, along with several methods for disarming and subduing the man, however… there was the matter of that small voice in his head. Ever it reminded him to stay the course. Any distraction, especially stopping a potential robbery, would result in far too much attention. Coverage in the local paper, or records filed by law enforcement, at the very least. If he intervened he would become known, and that would serve to hinder his timeline and impose the risk that he might be discovered at the end.

Jess’s hazel eyes narrowed from his perch in the dark black Audi S5. The light of a street lamp at the edge of the shop had reflected off a set of keys held by a hunched-over old man as he’d exited the store. Jess frowned and touched the ornate cross of red and silver that hung from a pewter chain around his neck. A small part of him suddenly wished that he’d picked somewhere, anywhere else to stop and check the map, but he shoved down the thought with a pang of guilt. There was always a purpose, even for what he knew was about to happen.

How can I not act? The internal struggle over his current dilemma was harsh, but he knew that, despite all of his abilities, he was powerless in this situation. The certainty of that notion, however, did not help to calm his nerves or soothe an aching soul when the hooded man withdrew a handgun and proceeded to shove it in the jeweler’s face.

“God, please, allow me to do something,” Jess whispered the urgent plea while he watched in fevered trepidation as the event unfolded.

It was the gunshot that ripped him apart. With an echo like thunder, the exposed firearm discharged and the old man crumpled. Curses could be heard from the assailant as he quickly scooped up the bag that was clutched in the jeweler’s blood-soaked and trembling fingers.

Jess took in a shaky breath. His knuckles were clenched so tightly that they had begun to turn white, and it took every ounce of resolve to not burst out of the car and rush to aid the wounded man. With a grunt, he popped the latch on the glove compartment to his right and removed one of several pay-as-you-go cell phones. He flipped open the old Samsung device he’d selected and dialed 911.

“Green Hills Diamond Buyers: I think someone just shot the owner! Black hoodie, I – “

He rattled off the brief statement with a feigned, rushed edge to his voice before he stopped abruptly and disconnected the line. With a quick depression of the brake pedal and push-to-start button on the console near the gear selector, his vehicle roared to life. He slid it into drive and let the accelerator hit the floor.

The assailant had run off down the street but was still on the sidewalk. A quick jerk of the steering wheel brought the sporty car to the right with a slight bump over the concrete pathway before it just barely clipped the criminals left leg; the impact caused him to flip and land on his stomach. Jess smirked and maneuvered the automobile back onto the street before he took an immediate right. He muttered soft but fervent prayers for the shopkeeper as he drove away and, moments later, a set of flashing lights careened past him toward the brutal scene he’d left behind…

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Copyright © 2018 D.M. Kurtz

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