Bill stayed out of the lamplight as he moved through the narrow streets. His paranoia kept him lucky in the slums, and would keep him alive tonight too. His peaky hat hid his face, a drawn out tired face. His coat a thick, rough trench coat from his military service hid his stubby handgun and knife of which he held in each hand in his pockets.
His workman's boots making slight reverberate sound on the cobbled ground. His pace brisk in the shadows, and measured calm in lamplight. His job tonight is to find four fingers, the rat of a man that his boss Mr Kipper wants out of sight and out of mind. The gun a last resort. His belt makes for a good garrot.
He passes three streets of narrow back paths, the windows above normally used to empty waste buckets. Tonight the windows are shut. He was told four fingers would be in the Blackman's arms hotel. He'd have to pay the reception lady to keep her quiet. After evading as much eyes as possible he gets to the hotel. The reception lady going by the name Tammy is an unnaturally bleach blonde lady with an inappropriate sense of manners. Quite flirtatious to those she likes. Bill does have to oblige her fantasy a little to get upstairs without the official ledger noting his attendance.
He shares a kiss with her after a few minutes. Slips a few notes into her blouse and whispers in her ear.
"I'll need the key to four finger's room sweetheart."
She loves the attention even if it's one sided. Far as Bill is concerned it's just business. She gives him the key.
"Your a naughty boy talking to someone missing digits. Will his room be vacant?"
Bill says nothing. He simply takes the key and winks smiling as he goes upstairs as if he lives there. The stairs are creaky, even with his light steps in worn boots. The wall lamps a dim light along the corridor and stairwell. Knew by the tag on the key he had to reach the thirty-seventh room. Few people at this time of night would be out. Which suited me. Less witnesses. My physical description was always generic, average height, age, short hair, cleanshaven with a workman's attire and a tired look.
I reach the thirty-seventh door and knock in a pattern I don't normally use. He opens the door with a gun to Bill's face. Once seeing its him he puts his gun down. His dressing gown and bedtime attire indicates he wasn't expecting guests. He gives Bill a look of exasperation.
"Bloody hell Bill. I nearly sent you to hell."
Bill is not amused. Nor startled. "May I enter?"
He concedes, and stands aside letting me in, "want a drink?"
"Please. A cup of tea. Just as you like it. You changed my mind since our last roust about."
He's confused but is happy with it. "Give me five minutes"
He goes into the kitchen putting the kettle on. When he steps into clear space I remove my belt from my pants. It was more an aesthetic. I wrap and tighten it around his neck from behind and pulls him to the ground. He thrashes violently as he's choked out. After a few minutes he stops thrashing. Bill puts his belt back on and pull out his push knife slashing four finger's throat open.
He clean's his knife and hands in his sink. Once the knife is concealed leave his room locking the door behind himself. Tammy is not at the desk. He puts the key back and leave. Once again he avoids main lights and crowded areas. His next stop is home. He crosses the canal on his friend's boat. Best way to avoid police, and gypsy gangs that weren't paid to give a blind eye.