Xiao Lin stood up, wiped the blood off the blade, and fastened it to his belt. He felt little towards the body that was already starting to grow cold. In truth, he didn't want to kill; he didn't want to do this unless it was absolutely necessary, yet circumstances always defied his wishes. In this kind of alley, a few deaths were nothing unusual in the Middle East. With the scene simply staged to look like a brawl, he disappeared down the other end of the alley without a sound, to the point where the inhabitants above, whose lights were still on, remained in a haze. It probably wouldn't take long for them to discover the murder here. Perhaps this was what he anticipated.
Xiao Lin didn't return to the hotel; instead, he walked down the street toward the mountain. By midnight, Amman was left with only streetlamps and a few returning vehicles, the entire city at rest in the dark.
