Uncle Darkness

Uncle Darkness sat on a bench in the park, feeding the ducks. It was one of his favourite spots and the place he always met his contact. Today he'd decided to treat the ducks to some nice, fresh ciabatta. He watched them splash and preen, and waddle over to where he sat, eyeing him curiously even though they must know him by now.
He'd given some of them names - the one with the damaged beak was Bill, the one with the particularly striking green plumage was Gordon, and the one with the white flecks around it's eye was Bernard. Then there was Henrietta, who was very popular with a few of the boys, Gabriel, who had a habit of taking off suddenly, doing a couple of circuits of the park and then landing heavily in the middle of the lake. That usually annoyed Simon and Priscilla, who were inseparable and would bob up and down on the ripples looking haughty. That reminded him, he hadn't seen Bob in his last couple of visits.
His contact was late by thirty-seven seconds so far. Not entirely unlike him, but enough to make a visual sweep of the area necessary. Three marks were within range, a mother and buggy , a youth in a tracksuit and headphones and a man in a suit with a briefcase. All unlikely but Uncle Darkness was not a man to be complacent. He judged range on all three and kept his eye out for sudden movements. He shifted his gun from his inside pocket to the bench next to him, hidden in the folds of a newspaper.
He scanned the bushes, trees, visible windows and other vantage points in the vicinity for gleams of light that might be reflecting from a telescopic sight. Nothing. The three marks had made their way out of range for anything but a rifle and none of them were carrying one - at least not one that was assembled, so he kept tabs on their directions and noted the possible angles.
His contact came into view. He was a grey haired man, probably in his early forties, still in fairly good shape. He had a grey suit on with a purple tie. Bad choice. He was walking quickly, looking to the sides like he was crossing the street. Uncle Darkness adjusted his trilby and the grey haired man wiped at his nose in response. Good, nothing was wrong and he hadn't been followed. He'd worked with the grey haired man for about six years now and they both knew how the other worked. If ever the grey haired man realised he'd been followed, they had signals in place to let each other know it wasn't safe and to walk away.
What the grey haired man didn't know however, was that if ever he was followed, Uncle Darkness would make sure he would be dead before he hit the floor and only then would Uncle Darkness walk away. The man probably had an idea that would happen, but nothing had ever been said between them. Uncle Darkness expected he would be treated the same way, but it was not a matter for concern. Uncle Darkness had only been followed once in his life, early in his career and had doubled back so quickly, the guy had been entirely surprised to find the contents of his jugular painting an alleyway.
The grey haired man sat on the bench next to him and put a takeaway cup of coffee down between them before opening a broadsheet. Uncle Darkness kept feeding the ducks.
"Big job."
"Mmm?"
"HPL"
Uncle Darkness paused for a second. Henry Porter Lanchester. Interesting.
"Interested?"
He threw another scrap of bread toward a duck he'd just decided to call Henry and smiled. He pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and held it to his ear.
"Oh yes, that sounds lovely."
"Details are in the racing section, usual method."
Uncle Darkness spoke into his phone again;
"Ok dear, I'll have a look when I get home." He placed the phone back in his pocket and threw more bread to Henry the duck. Grey hair turned a page.
"Is that one Henry?"
"Mmm."
Grey hair chuckled and the paper rustled slightly.
"We work together much longer, you're going to run out of ducks."
Uncle Darkness allowed himself a sly grin. Grey hair glanced at his watch as he turned a page, folded up the paper and set it on the bench. He picked up his coffee, stood up and walked away. Uncle Darkness watched him go, scanning again for anyone following him or any other possible marks in the park.
The wind picked up a little, the leaves hissing. Gabriel took that as his cue to do another couple of laps. Uncle Darkness threw some more bread to Simon and Priscilla, to try and placate them a little in preparation for when Gabriel splashed down again, making them bob.
He threw the last of the bread to the newly named Henry, picked up the paper grey hair had left, then transferred his paper with the gun in back to his inside pocket. This might be a fun assignment, depending on exactly how the client wanted it handled.
Subtle was a word that had been used, but subtle could mean many things.
Uncle Darkness hoped that he wouldn't just be directed to do the hit on Henry and that he would either be given free reign to deal out torture and death as he saw fit. He really hoped he'd have the chance to get his hands on Henry's daughter, Sarah. She was a lovely specimen and Uncle Darkness was sure her squeals of pain would incite Henry into either giving up lots of useful tidbits of information or else get him so enraged that his torture would last longer than normal. An angry man holds out longer out of spite, which suited Uncle Darkness just fine.
Henry was the sort of man who would hold out for quite a long time indeed, barring any heart defects that Uncle Darkness didn't know about. Henry was a beligerent man, used to getting his own way. Those were Uncle Darknesses favourite clients. They took longer to break, but when they did, invariably they unravelled at an unparalleled rate.
It was always fun to watch. Their psychology would turn itself inside out, Id and Ego in conflict, swopping quickly between higher and lower brain functions, as their reptilian brain interrupted mammilian thought processes in order to preserve their survival. Some would actually regress in front of his eyes, changing from rational adult to irrational child - all tears and victim mentality. Some even regressed completely and went feral. That was the most amazing thing to witness, a man turn savage.
It served to remind Uncle Darkness that the illusion of rationality and control that every single human being on this planet tries to keep in place and project to everyone else, was nothing more than a facade, a sham. Uncle Darkness always allowed himself a small chuckle if he heard people talk in terms of people and animals, for he knew better than most that people were animals too - animals that intimated propriety and moral rectitude, but were always only ever a trauma away from the wildness that birthed them.
God he hoped Henry went wild. It would be so satisfying after all these years to see that man squatting in a pile of his own shit, eating raw meat. Yes, that would be the icing on a very disturbing cake, one that had been many years in the baking.
Uncle Darkness arrived home, unlocked his somewhat fortress-like front door, all rivets and deadbolts and went inside to get a drink and ponder on the irony of his being chosen to carry out this particular job. His connection with Henry Porter Lanchester was indirect but he knew enough of the man to dislike him. However, Uncle Darkness was a professional and he would act accordingly. The fact that he would enjoy this job more than most was something he would keep to himself.