![\"\"](\"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/04\/cliff-edge.jpg\")
<\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My name is now Fintan, it would appear.
Unfortunate.
I\u2019ve always hated that name. Puts me in mind of unwitting, socially awkward dorks who sit up the front of the class and bring the same sandwiches to school every day in aluminum foil. In other words: sad, boring bastards.
To you and me.
So, for a day or two, until I find someone better, a sad bastard is what I will have to be.
Or maybe not.
Maybe I\u2019ll do all the other Fintans out there hiding in plain sight a favor and stick with it for longer than usual, just for the sake of injecting some personality and life into their insular little lives, maybe increase the stock price in their awful moniker.
Really. Come on. Christen your kid Fintan and you\u2019re basically condemning them to a life of tedium. Not saying calling them Bruce would mold them into an automatic action hero, but it would be a step in the right direction.
If your name is Bruce, you have no choice but to lead an interesting life. The name demands it.
But anyway, look, suck it up, my friend. Fintan it is and Fintan you are.
I tuck the driver\u2019s license back into the wallet, and then the wallet into what is now my new jacket. I tie his backpack around his ankles, fill it with rocks and push him off the ledge into the river below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
He doesn\u2019t make much of a splash.
Story of his life right there, one has to imagine.
He goes under pretty much immediately. I give it a few minutes to make sure he doesn\u2019t bob back to the surface. It\u2019s not a big deal if he washes up down river in a day or two. Just don\u2019t need the shout going out while I\u2019m still in the park, especially \u2013 and this is a long shot \u2013 if he has friends hiking around here who will recognise his clothes on me.
Doubtful, though. Very.
I spotted him yesterday and had been tracking him ever since.
Guy was on his own.
Alone, not just for the weekend, but in life.
His boots, his clothing, his equipment. All brand new, all top of the line.
Latest iPhone. Audi car keys. Just the one credit card. This was a guy with minimal debt and a lot of disposable income. Some kind of engineer nerd in a high tech multinational, according to his work I.D. which, for my money, put him squarely in the single with no kids category.
Perfect.
No one\u2019s going to be looking for him for a while.
I stamp the iPhone in half, pull out the battery and throw the pieces into the river after him. I decide to hang on to the car keys. The license plate number is printed on the fob. Which is handy. I don\u2019t want to leave here in the same vehicle I arrived in, and the Audi will make a refreshing change to the piece of shit Corolla it\u2019s going to replace.
Gravel crunches behind me and I freeze. A man clears his throat. \u201cYou know, for a while there, I thought you were a competitor.\u201d
I turn around slowly. He\u2019s wearing camouflage hunting fatigues, matching baseball cap and black wraparound sunglasses, has a scoped rifle on his back and a 9mm in his hand, with a suppressor as big as the handgun itself screwed into the barrel, pointed at me.
\u201cA competitor in what?\u201d I ask. Honest question.
He takes a step forward. \u201cBut you\u2019re worse. Do you know what you\u2019ve just done?\u201d
\u201cYes,\u201d I say. Honest answer. From my point of view.
\u201cYou\u2019ve just cost me half a million dollars.\u201d
\u201cShit, wow,\u201d I say. \u201cAre you a hitman? I\u2019ve never met a hitman before.\u201d
\u201cBelieve me, you\u2019re not going to again,\u201d he says. \u201cYou were doing me a favor, control-alt-deleting our mutual friend, right up until you tossed his damned phone into the river.\u201d
I look over the edge. \u201cCurrent\u2019s not that strong. If you\u2019re quick, you could probably slide down there and grab it. Phone\u2019s fucked, but I\u2019m sure you can find someone to retrieve the data that\u2019s on it \u2013 I\u2019m guessing that\u2019s why you need it. You\u2019ll probably need to cut off poor old Fintan\u2019s hands while you\u2019re down there. Not sure which finger he uses to unlock it. Better grab all ten of them.\u201d
Hitman shoots me a look would have most people pissing their pants. I like it. Will be practicing that shit later myself in the mirror of whatever motel room I end up in. \u201cYou said I\u2019m worse.\u201d
\u201cWhat?\u201d says Hitman, through his teeth.
\u201cYou said I\u2019m worse than a competitor. So what do you think I am?\u201d
\u201cA thief. A scumbag, common thief.\u201d He shakes his head, not completely taking his eyes off me as he looks down ruefully at the water below.
\u201cYou\u2019re almost right,\u201d I say. \u201cBut a common thief would have hung onto the phone, not cast it into the drink. I think you could have done with me being a common thief.\u201d
\u201cSo what do you steal?\u201d He\u2019s genuinely interested. The body language is there. He takes another step toward me.
\u201cIdentities. Lives. I was about to make off with Fintan\u2019s. But now I\u2019m having second thoughts.\u201d
The intonation I put on the last few words has the desired effect. He takes yet another step and is so close I could reach out and grab his gun hand. So, I do, catching him by surprise and using his grip on the weapon, and its ridiculous length as leverage, to twist it out of his hand. In the same motion, I deliver a kick to the inside of his lead leg that knocks it out from under him. He\u2019s just realizing what\u2019s happened when I shoot him in the head.
I\u2019m not into the camouflage get-up. It\u2019s a bit too obvious and try-hard for my tastes. I pack his oversize cargo pockets with enough rocks to sink him along with Fintan. But not before relieving him of his wallet. Yeah, shit, why pretend to be some mass-produced code monkey when I can be a hitman for a hot minute?
I take out his I.D. and read my new new name out loud.
\u201cBruce.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My name is now Fintan, it would appear.Unfortunate.I\u2019ve always hated that name. Puts me in mind of unwitting, socially awkward dorks who sit up the front of the class and bring the same sandwiches to school every day in aluminum foil. In other words: sad, boring bastards.To you and me.So, for a day or two, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-465","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-flash-fiction","category-short-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/465","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=465"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/465\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1394,"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/465\/revisions\/1394"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=465"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=465"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/grahamwho.com\/grahamwrites\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=465"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}