When he next checked the time, it was 11:42. He stared at the watch for a while, remembering his father, wishing he could see his face another time. The Hermes timepiece was a gift from the late Harold Harrison. It was the most valuable item he owned. Not for its monetary value, but because it was the last gift he received from his father.
“All done,” he said to himself as he stood and massaged his neck.
He picked up his jacket from the high back of his leather chair. Then he picked up his briefcase. As he gave the room one last scan before he turned out the lights, he noticed the portrait of his father was askew. The safe was locked, so he didn’t bother to check its contents. He straightened the painting, turned the lights out and closed the door behind him.
The building seemed empty as he took the elevator to the sub-level parking. He was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat at a late restaurant before heading home. Alan had opted out of ordering dinner, with the excuse that Nicole would be upset if he didn’t have dinner at home. Vita said her mother made roast, so she was going home to have that. He had no one to cook for him so he was left to feel the pangs of hunger alone.
When he stepped out of the elevator, he pulled the car remote from his pocket. As he walked the short distance to where he parked, the clacking of his shoes echoed in the emptiness. Mingled with the sound of his own steps, he was certain he heard another sound.
Quinn paused, cocking his ears for any sound. Emptiness greeted him. As he moved off again, he was certain that he heard a shuffling. When he strained to listen, he heard nothing.
“Hmm,” he murmured softly, continuing to his quartzite colored Jaguar. “I must be tired.”
A few meters away from the car, he pressed the button on the remote. The only indication that he’d unlock the car was the flashing headlights. As he reached out to open the door, something moved. He paused again and turned. He saw nothing. He was about to open the door when from the corner of his eye, a shadow emerged from behind a column. As he turned to see what it was, someone grabbed him from behind.
A hand clamped over his mouth while another hand held him in a chokehold. The one holding him from behind was as tall as he was, maybe an inch taller. He grabbed at the arm around his neck but the hand tightened.
Another figure stepped in front of him. Before he could get a grip on the situation, something sharp jabbed his right side just under the ribs. Whatever it was, pierced his flesh and sank into him. At first, he was unsure of what happened. There wasn’t much pain. The only indication that they stabbed him was the warmth of fluid trickling down his side.
Quinn’s eyes widened as he tried freeing himself of the hold on his neck. Before him stood a figure in a black ski mask and navy baseball cap. Trying to twist around to see the one who held him from behind was futile. Somehow he knew there was a third person but could not see him either.
With some amount of strength, he struggled against the hold as pain spread across his lower torso. In the struggle, he moved his elbow. The elbow rammed into something cushiony.
“Oomph!”
The sound only meant he had struck someone. That was good. Quinn pulled on his inner strength and struggled against the chokehold while trying to breathe. It was difficult as he felt the air leaving his lungs.
The grip on his neck tightened the more he resisted. As he fought to breathe, weakness overcame him. While trying to grip the hand that was cutting off his windpipe his briefcase slipped from his hand.
The man holding him was hard and muscular. Quinn knew this by the way his forearm bulged against his neck. He felt the strength of his attacker from behind and knew it was pointless to struggle.
“T-a-k-e wha…,” he tried to say, in a bid to tell them to take whatever they wanted.
Gasping for air was as difficult as trying to talk. His lungs were empty and he found it impossible to inhale. In his struggle, he struck his elbow back, and again it hit something soft. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t the fellow choking him.
“Say goodbye, pretty boy,” the man in front roughly said.
An excruciating pain rent his rib cage as he felt the knife sink deeper into his flesh. His eyes watered as the pain sliced through him. Another sharp blade pierced the left of his chest. With a groan, he tried to fight against the pain while fighting to remain conscious. The arm slipped from around his neck and he gulped for fresh air.
A wave of dizziness washed over him as he listened to their feet shuffle away. Quinn made a staggering step to reach out and grab the car door. With all his strength, he tried to turn to see his attackers.
Everything was a blur. Weakness overcame him as his knees started to buckle. With all his might, he reached for the car door, but he was tumbling to the ground. As he hit the cold pavement, his head swirled. In that moment he knew he was about to take his last breath.
The blood oozed from his side, leaving weakness in its place. This was the end. He knew it. Yet, Quinn was not ready to die. In the small space of consciousness that remained, he willed himself to live.
Was that the tolling of bells? Was heaven calling? The sound seemed distant. No, he wouldn’t be heading to heaven, would he? A laugh welled in his chest but came out as a soft moan. The sound got closer… closer….
Straining to listen, he thought he heard music. It was not heaven’s bells, he concluded. It was heaven’s music. The rhythm soothed him. He listened. Tap-tap…tap-tap… it was getting closer. The music was now upon him, louder and faster. Willing his eyes to stay open, he wanted more of the music, but he was fading.
Without notice, the rhythm changed. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. It then occurred to him that this was not music. He recognized the sound. Running! Then it stopped and there was talking. Help me! He screamed but he knew no one heard him.
His eyelids were closing, and then a face loomed over him. With his blurry eyes, he tried to focus. The face danced hazily before him. Music again? No. It was a voice. The face spoke, a sound that seemed to echo and bounced off the walls. His eyes slammed shut and everything went black.