C14: Lancelot

Today, I received the message from Fred, the right-hand man of my parents' client with regards to the assassination of Giovanni Mortalla, the man I killed recently. He was requesting us to meet in a private place, and this scenario always happens right after I kill the person that needs to be wiped out, based on request.

I parked my car in front of an avocado tree planted next to a small storehouse, the place where he requested us to meet. Fred started calling as soon as I came and asked if the car currently parked was mine, and I agreed.

"It won't be safe if someone else will hear us outside, so please unlock your car and I'll sit on the passenger's seat." He said as he looked around to see if someone's seeing him. We're in the inner-most part of a street, and the surroundings are mostly grass and some trees, quite far from the residential area.

I unlocked the door and he entered, and I can't help but feel his nervous aura.

"You must be Lancelot," he looked at me in the eyes, beads of cold sweat flows on his face.

"You … look so nervous. Is this your first time to meet up a criminal personally, and in secret?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"No. Sir Richard already told me to arrange several people to kill, mostly when it's related to politics."

My eyes widened. "You mean, Richard Mortalla? The mayor?"

"Of course – I …"

"And you just told me that it was Mayor Richard himself who was ordering you to do these arrangements?" I looked away and closed my eyes for a while, stopping myself from giving the worst reaction. "I had no idea. I know your tongue slipped, but if you wouldn't mind, can I ask you more questions?"

"It's fine, as long as you can give me the assurance that you won't tell anyone else," he covered his face in humiliation and heaved a breath as he removed it.

"Mayor Richard … he had his own son killed? But why?" Everything sounded like a joke to me. How can a father have his son assassinated? I don't care about the conflicts that they had, but regardless of the case, shedding of blood is totally out of the line.

"You see, Sir Richard hates drugs, and Giovanni is a drug addict. In his perspective, if people find out that his son is one, it'll ruin his reputation."

"Just because of that? He had his son killed instead of settling that issue?" I shook my head in disappointment. "Anyways, personal matters are no longer my business. I just thought that … it's too extreme. It's like treating him like garbage."

"You can say that, yes. If I'll be really honest, life feels like a waste, but what can I do? He's my boss."

"Yeah, I get the feeling. At some point, we're on the same page, but after taking Giovanni's life, I had some realizations that he should be the one."

"And why's that?"

"I'd rather not say. Let's just see it as a personal matter."

"Well then," he concluded, leaving a black bag with me. "This is Php 500,000. I'll take my leave before someone between us gets caught."

Without any more words, he stepped out of the car and walked away as if nothing happened. I held the handle of the bag and squeezed it tightly, my hands freezing cold. After knowing that Giovanni's the nephew of my most-respected man, having blood money with my hands felt all wrong. My parents trust me easily when it comes to murder cases, with the knowledge that I can manage to break the pieces of evidence that hinders me from being tracked. That night when I killed Giovanni in his own home, I wore surgical gloves so that fingerprints won't be seen in the crime scene. Took his corpse away and buried it in an abandoned place so that no one can see, because leaving the corpse there would leave more clues. I burned the surgical gloves and even the mask after.

Last time we talked, Nate mentioned that he's having 'enough pieces of evidence' that can point me out, only that part of him wants to protect me, so he couldn't reveal it. The only thing I can think of is, if in case a piece of hair from mine fell in the crime scene because I can't think of anything else but that. I didn't leave any object where fingerprints can be left, because he might have tools to keep track of me. Can it be … the door? The gate? What? I can't imagine him outsmarting me. Unless someone saw the crime happened from afar, recognized my face even when it's covered? Did any of them found the place where I buried Giovanni? Wasn't that isolated and deep enough to be found?

I no longer know what to think. I should figure out a way to find out. I don't want Sir Elliot to know that I'm the one who killed his nephew. He mentioned that Giovanni was close to

his daughter, Evangeline. I don't know how Evangeline would react, or how she'll take it when she finds out.

Truth is, what I'm doing are only ways to prolong this issue. I'm more than certain that one day, someone will find out about my secrets. Question's when. Will I still be alive when they find out? Who knows? Different bloods were shed in my hands, but for the first time, I got back to my senses, knowing who will be affected. It makes me feel like … every heartbeat that comes from my own heart is useless. I no longer deserve to live, but killing myself won't accomplish anything either. Maybe I should just see where this goes. But my curiosity is killing me. I need to know what my brother is talking about, that he's having 'enough pieces of evidence' to point me out. I can no longer stand the idea of ignorance.

I have to know what he knows.

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I turned off the engine of my car as I arrived at the police station. With the goal of not having conflicts as I collect the data that I need, I'll go ahead, even if this is a calculated risk.

"Good evening, officers," I greeted in monotone as I approach the police desk. My heart pounds in my chest, with the feeling that this looks like one way of surrendering.

"You look familiar," the police with the name tag 'Reyes' on it. "Have I seen you before?"

"You surely have met me before. I'm investigator Nate Real's brother." I answered. "Is he here? I left something in his office recently."

"You left what exactly?" I gulped. Think quick, think of a quick reason. Let's see… "Well, I left some travel documents. Actually, I didn't leave it, but he brought it with him by accident. I just need to have those papers back, because my flight would be next week."

"Is he aware of this?" Of course, he'll be asking a lot of questions. I'm a stranger and is suspicious enough. May my soul be spared.

"No, but he'll understand. I just need five minutes, officer. Can I borrow the key in his office? It's probably around his table alone." I'm confident that they'll say yes. As far as I know, they didn't notice that I was lying. The documents are true, but not the travel documents.

The police in the desk and the one standing around three feet of me looked at each other and shrugged off. Ah, relief.

"Here you go. Just leave your ID here and write down on our logbook. Then go ahead. His office is located on the second floor, right side. You'll see his name there, anyway." Reyes handed the key to me, and I bowed as I secured the key in my right hand. His office on the second floor will buy me the time I suppose, with the idea that 'I might be lost a bit' and 'looked for the documents because there are lots.' I do think I need to have stronger reasons though, to make the story sound more believable. It's a surprise that none of them accompanied me as I go here. They're far too trusting, and it feels like too good to be true.

As I found Nate's office, I locked the door immediately and scanned his drawers where the cases that he's handling are. I quickly browsed his folders with my fingers until I saw the folder, 'Giovanni Mortalla case.' Thankfully, it's not that hard to find. It seems like destiny's on my side.

Without reading the entire thing, I pulled out my phone and took photos of the papers inserted in the folder. Around three minutes later, I inserted the document to where I found it and pushed the drawer back. As soon as I got the things that I wanted, I turned off the lights and locked the door as I went out and headed back to the police desk.

"Here, I'm done. Thank you for letting me in," I told the police as I took my ID and wrote the time when I left, returning Nate's office key to them.

"That was fast. Were you in a hurry? Did you find the documents you're looking for?" the chief asked.

"Can I look at your bag and check the sides of your body to see if you took anything else?" Reyes retorted, giving me a suspicious look.

"Do as you please, sir Reyes. I wouldn't mind. My conscience is clean." I replied, with overflowing with confidence from my voice. I looked at the chief again to answer. "I didn't want to stay for long since I have to go home. I have to cook for dinner. Unfortunately, I didn't find my documents. It's such a waste, honestly. I thought it'll be around his table but I didn't see it. I

have no reason to look at other drawers. Maybe I'll just … ask him if he saw it. I'm sorry if I caused some trouble. I was too reckless. Maybe he got it with him, in his house or something."

"You're clear. You're free to go. At least you didn't take anything." Reyes said, smiling.

"Of course. Very well, I'm sorry, and thank you. I shall take my leave." I turned back and walked briskly to the parking area.

Nate would surely know that I entered his office without his permission and I'll hear some motherly lectures from him again, but at least I know what to say.

I pulled out my phone to browse the photos of the document. As I examined some of the photos, some contents caught my attention – before the time I snuck in his house, there was a record of a man who entered in Giovanni's house, carrying a black bag and left it there. The bag is full of drugs itself, according to the notes here in the document. Then an hour later Giovanni got back home.

Two hours later, I trespassed and killed Giovanni: pulled him into my car and made sure that I didn't leave anything that will point me out. All of these things are found in Giovanni's CCTV file. What Nate was talking about was the photo where my car's plate number was clear.

Now that I think about it, Nate's warning that he has enough pieces of evidence to point me out was true, after all, because everything was caught in the CCTV and I didn't even think of that during those times. If it weren't him, I'm already stuck behind the bars now. Probably worse. Maybe lifetime imprisonment? When that happens, I'll lose my job in the restaurant. I can no longer do the things that make my heart sing, just like cooking. My reputation will be ruined. My parents will perhaps get caught too, and Nate will be questioned about all these things which will leave him in a critical situation.

What's more, is, I'll rot in prison … until my last breath. It's not the worst part. The worst part is being cut off from the person who treated me as a part of their family and that is, Sir Elliot. He's the only one who made me understand how it's like to be a human, for he was like a father to me.

Because apart from that, I'm nothing but a monster.