Carter's Mark - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Calm After the Storm

            “Hello Gwen.”  Carter now stood in another doorway, looking at yet another beautiful woman.  At first glance, Gwen favored Marilyn Monroe, as her flowing blonde hair and almost overdone lipstick made her look rather divine and elegant.  Her smile was always that of a wife seeing her husband for the first time since he left for the war.  She was the only true friend Carter had other than Tom, and she was the only one that Carter ever confided in.  He found himself ending up at Gwen’s much more frequently nowadays, as he had grown quite fond of getting things off his chest, even if he felt little remorse for his actions.  Tonight, however, was one of those nights that left an imprint on his soul, as some people deserved what came to them far more than others, and Felicity seemed like a woman who deserved to live a full life.  He did not second guess himself or Tom however, and knew that if he were hired to kill the girl, there had to be a reason.  Carter never much tried to assume anything. 

            After a shower, he sat down with his only friend, and recalled the events of the night, starting with the letter delivered to him describing in full detail the job that would be done. Gwen listened to his tale with eager eyes, and an everlasting interest.  Carter always suspected that Gwen had a dark side, that secretly she enjoyed his stories a bit too much, and hinted several times that her wish was to be alongside him as he worked.  If not for the danger involved, he would almost be prompted to ask her to accompany him now and again.  He had decided however that his work and her safety favored him working alone. 

            Gwen had recently been given the responsibility of being Carter’s accountant, making his trips to the post office box and safe deposit box, so that he could remain in the shadows of society, out of the public eye.  This job of hers took the greatest amount of trust, and there was no one else that could do it.

            The meal that night was nothing short of spectacular.  Oven roasted chicken was laid out on a rotisserie in the center of the table, serving dishes filled with gravy, a spicy honey sauce of sorts, and an array of vegetables and condiments created an aroma synonymous of Thanksgiving Day.  “James,” Gwen said after a bit of silence that followed dinner.  She was the only one that was allowed to call him that.  Carter figured he’d give her alone that privilege, and she was deserving of something that no one else could get from him.  “I’ve been wondering.  You’ve been doing this for a living for quite a while now.  Have you ever run into any trouble on a job? I mean, you never tell me any stories of plans going array, are there any? It’s hard to believe you’re a perfect hitman, even if you are the perfect everything else.”  Carter sat for a second, deciding if she had questioned his abilities, or given him a compliment.  After waiving the possibility that she had been anything but sincere, he remembered Seth Marks.

            “About four years ago, there was a plan to hit a stockbroker by the name of Marks.  The man employing him had been given very bad advice from this particular broker about his portfolio, and had lost millions as a result.  My first attempt at his life was quite a drastic fault of my own, as looking back, I should have never attempted the hit on that particular night.  Vanity, I guess.  When I let myself in the back entrance of his house, I realized that there were quite a few people mingling around, and I knew the situation was not good for me.  As I turned to leave, someone spotted me, and within seconds, there were six men shooting aimlessly in my direction.  If any of them had the slightest bit of idea how to fire a weapon, I wouldn’t be here today.  When I had gotten far enough away to slow my pace, my adrenaline slowed and I realized I had been shot in the shoulder.  I nearly bled to death before I got back to my home.  I learned a valuable lesson that day, and never again will I be as careless.”

            Gwen looked downright horrified at the story, as if just mentioning the act on Carter’s life took him from her, if even for a moment.  After a few seconds, she regained her composure and replied.  “But why would a stockbroker and his friends carry guns?  And why did they think you were after them?”

            “Well, for a day or so after, I pondered the reasons for them being armed, and I came to the conclusion that they had expected some bad company, seeing as how Seth knew what kind of a man his client was, and how he lost his client a ton of money.  I had to accept that truth, because the alternative was that I was set up, and I didn’t want to think that that had been the case.” Carter then explained that a paranoid group of people that see a strange man impose himself on them inside a private residence would be right in assuming that the man was nothing but trouble. 

            “So did you go back and finish the job?” Gwen was awful chatty tonight.

            “Of course.  Three days later, I was able to track him down in a parking lot, and shoot him in the head.  I gave him one to the shoulder also, to even the score.” Carter looked at his watch; it was almost two in the morning.  “I think it’s time we called it a night, you’re still going to the bank in the morning, right?”

            “Yes, James,” Gwen replied.  How lovely it was that she was who she was, thought Carter, If not for her, there would be no one.

. . .

            The hospital four blocks down was a smaller, more relaxed environment than the other two hospitals in the Savannah area.  It had only about a hundred rooms, and housed a wide range of critical care patients, most of which were so severely injured it would be a miracle if ten percent of it’s residents survived.  Checking out on this day, however, was a tall, thin man of about thirty, with reddish blonde hair and brown eyes that had the appearance of fatigue in them.  The man proceeded to the counter, still rather gingerly, as he hadn’t moved around much outside his room in almost four years.  The clerk was just finishing his paperwork.  He was a tall man of about 6’4”, with a hint of athletic physique that persisted even after years lying in bed.  He had freckles that started at his cheeks and nose, and ran down his shoulders, and he had a small, almost unnoticeable scar on his forehead.

            “Here’s your insurance information, and contact information if you have any of the symptoms listed on this sheet,” she pointed to the second stapled page.  “Have a safe trip home, Mr. Marks, and take care of yourself.”

            The man was Seth Marks, and he had just nights ago awakened from a deep coma that took him from the world multiple times, and it was a miracle that he had survived.   He had lost everything.  The hospital had him admitted under John Doe, and did not have any record of who he was until he awoke from his slumber.  He assumed that his wife looked for evidence of him for a while, and then went on about her life after years of mourning the loss.  The two of them were having problems, and he wondered if she even cared for him enough to want to see him now after all this time.  After a quick cab ride to his old house, and realizing that he did not recognize any of the figures in the windows, his hopes shattered and he came to the conclusion that he was alone in the world.  Did everyone believe him to be dead?  What happened so long ago to put him in this situation?

            He got back in the cab and gave the rest of the money in his wallet to the driver.  He searched for his driver’s license, but could not find it.  Twenty minutes later, he had checked himself into a shabby hotel on the outskirts of the city.  Minutes after entering his room he fell into deep sleep, hoping to regain some form of knowledge of the past by the time he awoke.