It was three o’ clock on a Friday night. There was not a soul on the street and there were no working street lights. A black SUV came to a crashing halt just beside house no. 23 on Shippers street. The beastly halt suggested something untoward to the watchman. However before this train of thought could be converted into action, the watchman was awarded with a bullet in his chest. His body hit the floor instantly.The use of the silencer caused the incident to go unnoticed and the only sound that could be heard was the splatter of raindrops on the hood of the vehicle.
The cloudy skyline looked like a blanket over the dark streets. The entire landscape looked like a painting across which streaks of white had been sprayed. The wind and the rain had successfully accomplished the mission of bringing down the visibility to ten percent. The branches of the trees danced violently in the air, and it looked as though they were showing off their flexibility. The only source of light that lit the dark road was coming from a house. The voltage fluctuated, the light grew dimmer and dimmer and finally it was out. It was a complete blackout.
The monstrous six foot tall, brawny Mr. Roy clad in a dark green raincoat stepped out of the passenger seat. He was a young man in his twenties, and his eyes looked so furious, almost like they would char the first person they set their gaze upon. The same fury was evident in his pompous footsteps that periodically trampled the damp ground.
Mr. Roy’s muscular legs dug deep into the carcass of the watchman, sending it rolling down into the house’s garden. The thud of the human body falling on the grass was loud enough to wake up the only resident of the house, a 60 year old man. He had been sleeping in one of the five bedrooms of the mini mansion. He had mistaken a human body of flesh and bones for a fallen coconut and crept back into bed. Roy approached the door and slowly pushed the handle downwards. However the door was locked.
From that very moment he had swiftly changed his style of walking from pompous to cautious. The light from his mobile phone was the only guiding light. He stealthily walked towards the flight of stairs located at the rear side of the house and alighted them.
Within forty five seconds the broad shouldered athlete had reached the terrace of the building. He moved steadily, like a slithering snake waiting for its prey, took out a spanner and started removing the wet cement from the four corners of a brick. The blood shot eyes started to show tinges of apprehension as soon as he heard the SUV speed away. His hands dripped with rain and sweat and the cement from the four corners of the tile dissolved away like salt in hot water. The rain had stopped, the power was back and just as he was about to lift the tile…