The Magician

By E. J. Stauffer

Ben Knight is a paid government assassin who always excelled at his job. On an assignment gone badly, he almost loses his life, which makes him reassess his career of choice. Ben leaves it all behind. He quits his job and decides to live a normal life, if only he can figure out what that means.

With no skills or interests outside his extensive government training, Ben lives a bored and listless life until he meets Ellen. Shes on the run from her abusive husband with her young daughter Marianne. Ben feels connected to Ellen, and when she dies under unforeseen circumstances, he becomes Mariannes legal guardian.

Soon, Ben becomes engaged to the woman he loves. Hes a good father to Marianne, and life is perfect until a ghost from his past arrives and threatens the normalcy Ben has worked hard to achieve. In order to save himself and his family, Ben must become the killer he once was and use the well-honed skills of his previous profession.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jun 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781480817203

E. J. Stauffer

E.J. Stauffer was born and raised in central Pennsylvania. He holds degrees in art education and theatre design. His career in higher education took him to the Midwest where he began writing fiction and scripts. He is also author of The Magician.

Book preview

1

B en Knight could have been any man in his early thirties, of average height and weight and with no outstanding features. If you were to meet him, you would most likely be unable to describe him an hour later. As he walked to the bar, he casually ran over a scenario in his mind that seemed promising at first but was not very practical. Could he do all four people in the bar? He’d have to refine the details if he was to seriously consider it.

Ben had entered the hotel bar as an attractive redhead and a large man took seats at the right end. They wore similar name badges, so he was either a coworker or someone she had met at the convention. One other customer sat at the bar’s opposite end; he looked like a businessman. Not wanting to get chatty with anyone, Knight went to the center of the bar. He threw the raincoat he had been carrying over the stool to his right, took off his sport jacket, and draped the jacket over the back of his stool. Knight sat down and got the bartender’s attention. The young man took out his earbuds and put down the book he had been reading. As he approached, Ben could see his name tag—it said Will—and could hear music coming from his iPod earbuds. Apparently the hotel doesn’t care if he reads and has earbuds in when the bar isn’t busy, Ben thought. Will, I’ll have a bottle of Bud, no glass, he said.

After he sat the beer down, Will replaced the earbuds and went back to his book. Knight wondered whether he should move his .32-caliber pistol into his jacket pocket, or better yet, stick it in his belt. No, he decided to leave it in the inside zippered pocket of his raincoat. It was getting late, and there were occasional claps of thunder; it was still storming. Ben wondered how much longer he would have to wait.

He had been nursing the beer for almost an hour while watching the too-loud sports channel on the TV above the bar. He hoped that if anyone was paying attention to him, they would think he was marking time because he didn’t want to go out in the rain. The weather forecast had called for precipitation all day, and for once the meteorologist had gotten it right.

The bar was empty except for the four customers and the bartender. It was a weekday, and with the bad weather outside, Ben could understand why a street bar would not have a lot of customers, but why weren’t there more people in a hotel bar? With all that rain, wouldn’t the hotel guests want to stay inside?

Anyway, this was supposed to be a watch-and-see evening only. While he waited, he thought about formulating a new plan or refining the one he had already decided on. Nothing would happen tonight. But if a more favorable opportunity should present itself, such as the scenario that had crossed his mind when he entered the bar, he would take advantage of it. There were still three days left to do what had to be done. So far, Ben had always had good luck, and he had no reason to believe that would change now.

The customer on the far left wore a suit, with his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt open for comfort. He seemed to be paying attention to his drink and not the couple opposite him. To Ben’s right, the attractive redhead was flirting with the large, bulky guy sitting next to her. Both of them were drinking and laughing. He couldn’t hear what they were saying except when she teased, You’re so very naughty, Frank.

Well dressed in a tailored suit, the redhead was no doubt a professional woman. Her briefcase and expensive purse sitting on the bar added to that impression. Frank could easily pass as a gangster or ex-football player who had gone to seed. He was big and looked menacing, and to top it off, his suit was too small. He’s someone I wouldn’t want to tangle with, thought Ben.

The sports announcer on the TV was again giving baseball scores and showing highlights from around the country. Ben had seen one particular double play three times already. The local game had been rained out, and the announcer kept referring to it, presumably filling in the sports channel’s prepaid airtime.

Ben became aware that someone was pulling the stool out beside him. He turned and saw that the businessman had moved close to him. The man threw his overcoat on the stool to his left, put his drink on the bar, and sat down. Gesturing toward the couple, he said, Looks like someone’s gonna get lucky tonight.

Ben thought, Could be, but then again, maybe not.

The businessman took a sip from his drink and continued. Wouldn’t mind waking up with that beside me. Wonder if she’s a true redhead.

Without taking his eyes off the couple, Ben simply said, Only one way to tell for sure.

You’re right. Have to ask her. The businessman chuckled. Nearly closing time and not even a working girl, he said.

Ben smiled, shrugged, and replied, It’s the weather. Miserable outside. Keeps people in.

Name’s David, but most people call me Dade. My niece had trouble saying David when she was little, and the nickname stuck, said the businessman. He offered his hand to Ben, signaled the bartender, and said, Give my friend here a new beer, and give the two at the end of the bar whatever they’re drinking. Nothing for me.

Thanks for the beer, Dade, said Ben as he reached for the outstretched hand. Name’s Ralph.

Think nothing of it. Nice to meet you, Ralph. Turning toward the bartender, Dade laid two twenties on the bar and said when the bartender reached him, This should cover my tab. Just keep the rest. He immediately rose and turned to leave.

Thank you, sir. Have a nice night, Will replied as Dade walked to the bar’s doors and waved his hand to let the bartender know he had heard him. Will scooped up the bills, placed a beer in front of Ben, picked up a bottle of scotch, and then headed toward the end of the bar. It appeared that he was explaining the free drinks to the couple, so he did not notice Ben wiping his empty beer bottle with the drink napkin. Ben was sure that Will didn’t realize that he had not touched his new drink either.

Frank and the redhead were starting to get it on; as he began rubbing against her, she responded with smiles. Hmm, thought Ben as he watched the scene, maybe Dade was right. Maybe someone will get lucky tonight. At this point, I just don’t know who.

As the clock ticked and closing time got closer, there were still only four of them in the hotel bar. Maybe this is a good time. Maybe lady luck is smiling on me, contemplated Knight. Maybe the time is now. Maybe I should get my gun, go to the couple, call Will over as if I’m going to buy them another drink, and do all three at once. No witnesses. Yeah, that’s a good scenario, a viable solution. If the timing is right, maybe tonight actually is the night. Ben readjusted his raincoat so that the zipped-up gun pocket was easily accessible.

But wait! What if someone comes into the bar at this moment? A surprise like that could easily mean trouble. No. Should I let the day play out? Don’t rush it, Ben thought. But then he made a quick decision: the course of action he had just formulated would be it. As Ben reached to unzip the gun pocket, Frank stood up and walked past him, likely heading for the men’s room, Ben figured. Too late for three headshots. No use trying. His plan fouled, Ben decided to follow Frank, but with no thought of his gun—too noisy. He went into a short hallway, saw the men’s room sign, turned to his left, and elbowed his way through the door and into the restroom.

Frank had approached the urinal and was fumbling with his fly. Just as he began to relieve himself, Ben quickly stepped forward and swung hard, finding his mark in Frank’s soft kidney area. The big guy, caught by surprise and drunk, reeled but caught himself on the wall. Shaking his head to clear it of the drunkenness, Frank lunged and swung at Ben, catching him on the shoulder and sending him toward a toilet stall. Ben hit it with a thump.

The big guy was quick and well trained; Ben had misjudged him. From out of nowhere, a knife had materialized in Frank’s big fist and was headed straight at him. Having seriously underestimated this man’s ability, Ben knew that now he was going to have to fight for his life. The lunge came fast, but Ben twisted away sharply, and the blade hit the stall’s wall with a clunk. On instinct, Knight grabbed Frank’s arm and twisted with all his might until he heard the knife hit the floor. Frank moved with lightning speed, delivering a direct blow to Ben’s chest that sent him backward through the stall’s door. Ben tried to steady himself but was shoved farther inside the stall. Frank immediately wrapped both arms around Ben and embraced him in a bone-crushing bear hug. Straddling the toilet, but with his arms free, Ben found it hard to breathe. He knew he wasn’t going to survive if he didn’t act fast. He interlocked his hands in the air and brought them down with all his strength on Frank’s back.

Hearing a groan and feeling a slight loosening of the bear hug, Ben slammed down again and again, harder and harder with increasing force. The big man let go and staggered backward out of the stall. Ben quickly followed Frank, punching him beneath the rib cage until he went down onto his knees. When Frank tried to get up, Ben kicked him on the side of the abdomen, knocking him flat on his back to the floor. Immediately, he picked Frank’s head up and smashed it down on the floor repeatedly, until there was no movement. Lifeless eyes stared up, and a trickle of blood began to pool around his head.

Breathing heavily, Ben grabbed Frank by the legs and was starting to pull him toward a toilet stall when he noticed a second, smaller door in the room. He let go of the legs and opened the door. It was a custodial closet. He again grabbed Frank by the legs, dragged him to the doorway, folded his knees to his chin, and pushed him inside. He wet several paper towels under the automatic faucet and used them to clean up the trail of blood on the floor. He then wiped down the closet door handle and the stall door and straightened up the area. Next he picked up and wiped off the knife, making sure there would be no prints even though he hadn’t touched it, before he threw it in the closet on top of Frank’s now very dead body and pushed the door closed with his elbow. Ben again went over every surface that he might have touched with wet paper towels and disposed of them in the trash container.

As the assassin washed his hands, he thought it was a good thing he hadn’t used his gun because shots easily would have been heard by the redhead and Will in the bar, and no doubt, they would have come running in, leaving him an even bigger mess to clean up. Ben straightened his tie, smoothed his trousers, and then looked in the mirror as he combed his hair and wiped the sweat off his face. He decided that he looked pretty damn good considering his recent brush with death. On his way out, he opened the door with a paper towel in hand, making sure not to leave even a partial on the door handle. It’s getting late. Maybe it is time to get this job over with, thought Knight.

When he left the men’s room and returned to the bar, Will was reading with his earbuds in, and the woman still sat at the bar. Ben saw there were no new customers as he returned to his stool.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben watched the redhead. She kept glancing in the direction of the men’s restroom with a quizzical look on her face. Finally, she clumsily slid off her barstool, catching herself from falling but knocking over her drink in the process. She ignored the spilled liquid and staggered toward the men’s restroom. She paced back and forth in front of the hallway several times and then entered the hall and went to the door. Ben heard her knock and then call out, Frank! Frank! Are you in there? When there was no response, she returned to the bar, straightened up, and approached Ben with a slight wobble.

Misser, you do a favor? she asked, slurring her words.

Ben said, Sure, what’s the trouble?

Could you check in there, she said, pointing to the men’s room, for my frien’ Frank? See if he’s okay?

Ben got up and walked to the men’s room, pushed the door open with his elbow, and entered. After what he considered a reasonable amount of time, he returned and said, There’s no one in there.

You sure? I know he wen’ in there, replied the redhead.

Look for yourself, said Ben as he stepped back into the hallway and pushed the door open with his foot. The place is empty.

Rushing past him, she stomped into the men’s room. Ben could hear her loudly opening all the stall doors and then slamming them closed. Finding no one, she angrily brushed past Ben. Damn him, she muttered as she returned to the bar. Ben thought she wasn’t as drunk as she seemed. Maybe she’d use alcohol as an excuse for what she was going to do with Frank.

Ben carefully let the door close on its own and then returned to his stool, waved Will over from whatever he was listening to and his book, and said, Give the lady a fresh … whatever she’s drinking.

The bartender said, It’s late, closing time.

Ben reached for his jacket, slipped it on, and said, What’s the damage, Will?

Seven fifty, Will answered. Ben put a ten on the bar and headed toward the door, carefully adjusting his raincoat over his arm.

When he was halfway to the door, the redhead grabbed Knight’s arm. Sanks for the drink offer, Misser. Heard you. My name’s Corrine, an’ I have to go too.

Ben knew her name but didn’t want to know it. Names made relationships too personal; he wanted to know and think of her only as the redhead. You are more than welcome. You can call me Ralph. It’s still raining. I’ll get you a cab, said Ben, knowing full well she didn’t need one.

Don’t need a cab. Staying right here, she slurred.

Lady, you forgot your briefcase and purse, called Will from behind the bar.

Thank you, young man, she said as she pulled Ben to that end of the bar and retrieved the items. And you’re a real gen’leman, Ralph, she said, smiling at Ben.

I’ll walk you to the elevator then, said Ben.

I’d rather you walked me to my room, she replied as they headed toward the door.

Sure, and Frank shows up and beats the crap out of me. No, thanks, replied Ben.

He won’t show up. I work with him. Anyway, he’s a real pussy. He may be big, but he’s ’fraid of his own shadow. Probably couldn’t keep up with me in bed either, teased Corrine. She paused a moment and then added, Bet you could.

With his mind racing, Ben compared the situation to a James Bond movie. How lucky can I get? he thought. I’ll take her up on the offer, but I have to be careful. On his first trip through the lobby, Ben had checked out the security cameras. There were two at the check-in counter and two more at the hotel entrance that covered the door and the street. He knew that he could avoid all of them.

Ben walked Corrine through the late-night empty lobby with his head down just to make sure he wasn’t picked up by a camera he hadn’t noticed. She held on to him for support, her purse and briefcase swinging at her side, but she staggered very little and seemed more than able to walk a straight line. As they stood at the elevators, Ben realized that they were alone, and when the doors opened, the car was also empty. As they entered, he bowed his head, covered his mouth with his hand, cleared his throat, and turned so that the elevator camera would not see his face. Which floor? he asked.

Twelve, twelve-oh-five, she said.

Ben punched the twelve button, and as the door closed, Corrine threw her free arm around his neck, pushed herself against his crotch, and started kissing him, slipping her tongue in his mouth. He returned her kiss, moved his hand down her back, and pulled her closer as he tightly gripped her butt, their tongues meeting greedily.

The door opened on the twelfth floor. Corrine was breathing hard by this time; she slipped her hand inside his waistband and pulled him toward 1205. She found the key card inside her purse but couldn’t get it in the door’s slot, given the alcohol in her system and the way she was now distracted by Ben, who was kissing her neck and slipping his hand under her blouse to massage her breast. He momentarily stopped his advances and whispered, Give me the card; I’ll open the door. Ben opened the door, and as they stepped inside, she reached behind him, pushed the door shut, and then pulled him farther into the room.

They didn’t bother to turn on the lights. She quickly started to undress him. He took off her jacket, unbuttoned her blouse, and unhooked her bra; the clothing hit the floor unnoticed. It was still storming, with occasional lightning flashes casting shadows around the room as Ben kissed her neck and breasts. Thunder rattled the windows.

They collapsed onto the bed together. He pulled her slacks off as she squirmed on the bed, and her breathing was hard and fast. He felt the heat of her hands through his underwear as she found his crotch. She quickly turned over onto her stomach and lifted