These days, people even wanted to choose their eye color. Years ago, when he first got assigned to this position, people were happy just to have their vision back. Now they had demands other than health. They wanted to live forever. And they wanted to look good doing it. Only then, would they be happy.
He crouched in the bushes, a hundred feet from the entrance to the restaurant and settled in to wait. Sometimes he waited for hours; sometimes minutes. He didn’t mind. The job paid handsomely. He could afford a home in a gated community. He had an in-ground pool and an indoor tennis court. Every morning, he had his choice of seven cars, though he usually took the Jeep. Less conspicuous that way. He had everything that money could buy, and nothing that money could not.
The door of the restaurant opened. He sat up, peering intently. This was the guy. He held up the gun. His aim was impeccable.
The databanks indicated that Frederick T. Kissell would be a good match. The client had paid hundreds of thousands of dollars. And the government would be happy: Frederick T. Kissell had recently been convicted of bribery. The statistics indicated he was likely to be a repeat offender.
“I’m nearly done. One more job and I’m out of this business.”
Truth was, he loved the business. Loved the excitement and mystery of it. Every time he got a call from the government with an address and a name he felt a little thrill charge through his body. But a diet of fast food and coffee and travel had taken their toll. At forty-five, he looked more like ninety. “The doctors said to slow down, to find myself a wife. Thing is, I have no idea how to love.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mother.”
He hated being this close up. Hated seeing the confusion and the sadness.
“I know it.”
“I need a heart. And I need it soon.”
He shook his head. “The heart that loves is always young.” Today’s hearts were jaded and weary. Today’s hearts were immune to love.
His aim was impeccable. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
And he sent his signal to the police department and waited to be transported with his mother to the transplant unit.
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Leo challenged me with “The heart that loves is always young…” and I challenged SAM with “Those little yellow flowers you dug up from the banks of the creek are blooming in my garden.”
Note: After reading my posting, my husband sent me this link: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/24/world/asia/china-moves-to-stop-transplants-of-organs-after-executions.html?_r=1