Chapter 1 - Don't be evil

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Mr. Sinister cruised the length of the mall like a hungry shark hunting prey. It was Saturday afternoon and he was swimming against the tide of weekend shoppers. The instructions were to strike when the place was busy. This would give him more chance to find what he was looking for...and more chance to slip undetected, back into the sea of humanity after the deed was done, but now he was here, all he sensed were more eyes. More witnesses. More chance of getting caught.

He swung past the great glass-walled atrium of the human aquarium, that's when he caught sight of what he was searching for. Early teens, hair casually brushed back behind her ear revealing a tiny white earbud. Distracted by her phone, changing music or texting a friend, she didn't notice him rapidly reducing the gap between them. She was already standing near the entrance, a quick strike and he could have her outside and in the van before she or anyone else realized what was happening.

He increased pace.

The girl still hadn't noticed him close within range. She looked up from the screen. Smiled at someone. A friend swam into view through the glass doors at the mall entrance. The girl pulled out one earphone and the two of them turned into the dress shop opposite.

He swept past the storefront. They were safe inside.

He kept walking, reached the escalators to the lower floor, and descended to the depths of the food court in the hope of finding a fresh target.

Scouring the floor, taking in the smells, pretending to peruse the meals on offer, while surveying the positions of security cameras.

He was getting hungry and impatient. He needed to remain calm. He purchased some fries, sat alone at a table in a blind spot at the edge of the food hall, and waited.

He upended a bottle of ketchup. Red sauce splattered across fries like wounds. Perhaps today was not the day. Maybe he should return tomorrow? But that was not the plan which had been agreed with the Marketing man. A contract was a contract. So he waited.

A half-hour passed. The light faded from the lower floor carpark outside. The murmur of shoppers on the floors above began to die. The crowds were starting to thin.

He watched a young girl in a yellow and red Charcoal Chicken uniform wiping down tables. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail revealing delicate unadorned ears. As she worked her way closer she leaned over the tables and he felt his eyes drawn to the half-lowered zipper at the front of her blouse. A crisp cut 'V' revealed the top of pale breasts between which an ornate gold cross dangled. He watched mesmerized by the rhythmic back and forth movement of the cross while fragile arms vigorously worked the cloth across the Formica.

Left...bounce...right...bounce.

His gaze traced the alabaster skin of her arms until it reached her hands and he pondered whether she stroked her boyfriend with the same rigor.

He stole a glance back to the counter. The cashiers at the Charcoal Chicken were packing up, leaving the storefront unattended. The girl reached his secluded booth.

"Can I take that?" She pointed to the empty cardboard carton on the table in front of him.

He pushed it toward her. She reached for the box and for an instant he held it, forcing their hands to touch. Her fingers were warm against the coldness of his own. Perhaps it was the warm water from the cleaning cloth. She recoiled and he released the container, allowing her. She was pretty. But she wouldn't do.

He needed to keep moving. Lingering in one spot would attract scrutiny. He continued trawling the mall. Searching. Fishing. Careful to stay in the shadowy still waters at the edges of the plaza. Staying close to the exits, somewhere he could disappear quickly with his catch.

A show finished at the cinema complex. He stopped beneath the red and green LED signs at the base of the stairway pretending to study the upcoming sessions. A group of teenagers drifted past, texting each other in a wave of stale-smelling popcorn. They were too tightly schooled. He needed to find a way to separate one or two from the main shoal. Even then the task would be risky. Perhaps he could follow, wait until they went their separate ways then take one down in the carpark. A few stragglers trailed. His eyes fell on an outlier. A kid on his own, dressed in a designer sweatshirt and carrying the latest phone, one of the large screen models beyond a practical size to fit easily in a pocket. He checked the direction the adolescent had come from at the top of the stairs. Toward the Gold-class lounge. Rich kid, face scarred with acne, tall, but gangly looking. Not too strong. Too socially awkward to be one of the main crowd but enough of a rebel to sneak out to the movies while mommy and daddy think he's still home studying. The kid brushed past him without even noticing, too busy hunting for something in his open backpack. He pulled out a pair of the latest headphones, emblazoned with the distinctive stylized letter 'T'-logo, placed them over his ears, and switched the on button. Expensive. Noise-cancelling. Perfect.

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