“I only know the basics, and that’s all I want to know. Any more information and you begin to feel like you know them, you begin to feel that they are a real person, which of course they are, but not when you only know the basics. When you know the basics, they’re nothing more than a sketch, a mere outline. An idea, facts on a piece of paper. They don’t have any form. Sure you see a photo or two, maybe see where they live, see them briefly in a crowd, even follow them at a distance. But then, only for a short time. You don’t get involved. You’re there for one thing and on thing only. I made the mistake of forgetting that once before, and only once. That was the first time. That time was the hardest, and nearly the end of me.
“His name is Billy and he lives in a council flat. He’s 34 years old, married, claims benefits, drives a BMW, smokes pot and works for my client ‘Big Benny’. Those are the facts, the outline to the sketch. That, along with a few other facts is all I know. He beats his wife and pushes people around for a laugh. Those facts I found out for myself. The one other thing is, he owes ‘Big Benny’ five grand. No, I’ll rephrase that. The other thing is, he stole five grand from ‘Big Benny’.
“Now Big Benny isn’t actually all that bothered about the money to be honest, which is good, because he’s paying me ten grand to do the job. No, to Big Benny, and I quote, “It’s the bloody principal! I gave the shit a job, paying bloody good money, too. And this is how he repays me. Saddens me, so it does, breaks my ‘eart!”
“So here I am walking across the road from Billy, about fifty foot behind him, the late November wind biting into the flesh on my face. My nose feeling numb.
“He’s just been to sign on, the fortnightly task where they try and find you a job or two, something to make it look like they’re doing their job. And you sit there, knowing that they don’t really give a damn about you. To them you’re just another number, nothing more than a statistic, a collection of facts of their data base. Heck, the job centre and I could be one in the same to a degree.
“He’s in his denims again, faded blue jeans and a jacket that has seen better days, and a black beanie covering his almost orange hair. His jeans seem to stop an inch short of his ankles which are covered by a pair of black, scuffed Dr Martin boots. His collar is pulled up to cover the Bull dog and Union Jack tattoos that adorn his neck, hands burried deep in his pockets, covering the love/hate tattoos that scar the boney knuckles of each hand.
“He walks aggressively with a thuggish swagger, glaring and sneering at people, spitting at their feet as if to his contempt for there mere exsistance, but showing nothing more than ingnorance in its purest form. And I’ve seen him walk this way home a few times, his actions always the same. Acting like he has something to prove, a reputation to uphold, the “I’m a big man round here, so watch your step” routine. But not seeing how people laugh at him when his back is turned.
“He stops at the BP garage to buy some cigarettes, and while he’s in there, I prepare myself. I also send a text message to the client.
“He comes out and heads home. Traffic is light and it’s beginning to get dark now. He heads for the subway to cross diagonally under the round about by the Running Horse pub. It’s there I pick up my pace to intercept him. I’m waiting for him as he enters the open space below road level of the round about. My mobile rings as he comes out of the short tunnel under the road. I answer it and, after a brief exchange with the caller, I speak to Billy for the first time.
“’Billy?’ I call out. He turns and looks at me with a neandertholic gaze, somewhat confused and wandering if he should know me. I hold my phone out to him. ‘Big Benny would like a few words with you.’ I continue, my tone kept flat and unemotional.
“He walks towards meand snatches the phone from my grasp, and keeping an eye on me, he slowly raises the phone to his ear.
“I don’t know the exact words that Big Benny says to him, but I’m sure that it has something to do with how disappointed he is with Billy, how he gave him a job when people had advised him not to, that against their advice, against their better judgement he took Billy under his wing. And that’s the point where Billy gets it and all he can say to Big Benny is ‘My wife?’ And for a moment there is a look of reassurance in Billy’s eyes as Big Benny speaks to him. I’ve dealt with Big Benny before and know that he will never go after the family.
“I stand with a silenced pistol in my hand, not normally my style, I prefer the natural death look. The ‘came home and didn’t smell the gas leak before they switched on the light’ accident, but Big Benny want this to be a message to others not to mess. I see the fear in Billy’s face as he see’s the weapon, and as he hands the mobile back to me, he’s visibly shaking. I put the phone to my ear and recieve confirmation to go ahead.
“I place the phone in my pocket and raise the silenced pistol. And for a moment I pause, almost expecting to listen to Billy beg for his life, but instead he bows his head, almost as if in prayer, his hands raised slightly from his sides, palms facing me. Billy stands there, calm and ready, like some sort of warrior accepting his fate. And despite his thuggish appearance, he utters his last words with a faint hint of nobility.
“Do it!”
“In an instant, Billy is dead. Between Billy looking almost noble and eyes being glazed there is a flash and dull thud. His body slumps to the ground, none of this hollywood style body flying back 20 foot. His knees give way under his now dead weight and he falls to the pavement, like a screwed up sketch being dropped in the bin, and at that second I’m walking away, ten grand better off.
“I meet many people in my line of work. Many, like Billy, are mere sketches that have just gone wrong, an idea that nobody had time to refine and put right. In the end the sketch is thrown away or destroyed and a new one started. And despite Big Benny later revealing that Billy had taken the money to try and get himself into anger management to save his marriage, to stop himself from destroying the one thing of beauty that he had in his life, for my own sanity, to me Billy was just another payday, just another collection of facts, a list of basic information. Because I only know the basics, and that’s all I really want to know.”
