One

Life had taken its toll on him. Or so he thought. He liked to think in the retrospective. Sure it wasn't the most progressive way of living but it was the only way he knew. He had walled himself up from the future. Dragging through one day at a time like a junkie depending on his high to make it to the next. Except there was no high. It was a vicious cycle of more of the same.

At thirty seven Billy Kavinsky was nothing like he had hoped to become. The last four years had been especially brutal. Harking back he cussed at himself for letting things go this way.

He was deep into his thoughts when the phone rang. Billy let it ring. It was time. He sunk his lean frame into the mattress and lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, a tinge of nausea hit him. I have to quit smoking he thought. He sat upright and tried to put on his game face. Throwing away the cigarette, he got up and slid into his jeans.

A knock at the door. Taking one final look at the mirror, he walked across the large bedroom into the living room and opened the door to find Omar looking up at him, casually holding a briefcase.

Omar Hafeez was imperative to what Billy did for a living. A local anesthesiologist, who had tipped over to the other side just for the kicks. He was short, heavy set, pushing into his fifties and extremely professional. Like Billy he had on a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt.

'Let's get to it then,' Omar said all businesslike, caressing his balding head. Billy studied his dark dull face and grunted. Something about his appearance always made Billy smile. But Omar Hafeez wasn't someone to be trifled with. That much Billy knew. He had an cold aura around him that Billy couldn't vent through.

Billy grabbed his backpack and locked the door behind him. The two made their way through the dimly lit hallway, down the stairs into the carpark. A cool breeze hit them. Billy looked up at the dark sky. It looked like rain. He glanced at his watch. Ten past one.

'Lester and the others are on site,' Omar said. His english was nothing like the stereotypical musical accent affiliated with people of his ethnicity.

Billy nodded approvingly. 'That sadistic bastard has nothing better to do.' Omar chuckled.

They got into the well used sedan. Omar put the car into gear and they were away. What Billy loved about the place was the absolute silence of the night. No traffic except the occasional stray dogs reverting to the pack days. He took out his phone from his pocket and revised tonight's affairs.

It was a short drive to the motel. Short by Billy's standards anyway. He tried to shrug off the usual nervousness that accompanied him while making these late night calls. Omar brought the car into a halt in the parking and the two of them made their way into the motel. It was quiet inside with no one present except the manager. Gaze joined them in the lobby.

'Room number eight. He is sedated as asked,' Gaze told them in the local language. Billy had learnt the language in the first fourteen months of his service and was almost fluent now.

Babu Gaze Pathan tried to keep pace with the two. He had those piercing eyes that looked right through and into someone. He was of average height and had one of those nondescript faces that didn't warrant a second look. Billy liked him. He was good at following orders.

They walked in silence with Gaze generating the key as they got near the door. He opened the lock and Omar slipped inside with him while Billy waited outside. Minutes later Billy heard a knock from the inside and went into the room.

The room was as grand as one can expect in these parts. The mark was lying on the bed with Gaze prodding him to rouse him from his slumber. Omar was packing his syringe and vials into his briefcase. With significant effort the young man came to and analysed his surroundings. Almost suddenly he was gripped by fear and fired away some desperate questions.

'Who are you? Where am I?' he gaped around at the three men with wide open eyes. He was in his twenties. Twenty four to be exact with boyish good looks and dark hair.

'Settle down Faraz. Calm yourself. Lower your voice,' Billy said reassuringly. 'If you do what you are told this will all be over in a matter of minutes.'

The boy was pumping his lungs to scream when Gaze forced a sidearm against his knee cap. 'Now look here. At me. You are going to do as I say,' Gaze said. Faraz looked around to protest but was met with a sharp slap squarely across the cheek. He starred at Gaze with defiant dark eyes. 'I'll have you back in a couple of hours. Now get up and put on your jeans.'

Faraz did as he was told as the drugs started to have effect. Satisfied, Gaze put away the firearm. Billy did not know what exactly was in the injections. Omar had once tried to explain that the drugs used were the usual anesthetic agents with marked amnesiac properties. Midazolam. Propofol. Ketamine. And a few others.

It was while administering these drugs that Billy had noticed the faintest flicker of joy in Omar's eyes. Billy had asked him once whether he enjoyed his work. Omar had callously replied that he was paid well enough. But Billy didn't take pride in his profession. He was almost torn bit by bit every day. Still he had to continue. He consoled himself visualising the prize that awaited him at the end.

Billy and Omar strolled outside while Gaze made sure that Faraz followed them. The manager had dozed off and the security guard had left his post vacant. They were fine as long as they were with Gaze. He knew people. Faraz was inadvertently compliant. Gaze told him to get in the back of the car with him while Billy got into the front with Omar. Omar started the car and they drove towards the site.

Enroute Gaze restrained Faraz with handcuffs and placed a black woolen mask on his head. Billy produced his computer and camcorder from his backpack. Typing in a few commands he fixated the camcorder at Faraz and recorded.