The man in the dark grey suit entered the hotel lobby and made for the elevators. Rom 407, he was told. The hotel was bustling with tourists. The man couldn’t care less. His job kept him away from such tawdry elements of society. He seemed to go unnoticed as he pushed the button to bring the car to the lobby. He waited patiently, controlling his breathing. Looking to his left, he spied the hotel’s bar. He made a mental note to have a quick drink after the job was over. Perhaps some soft company to go with it.
The bell announced that the car had arrived. The door opened and he stepped inside.
“Hold the elevator, please!” Shouted a portly man with greasy balding black hair.. He was wet from the use of the hotel’s Olympic size pool. “Thank you.” He said. The man nodded and pressed the button for the 4th floor.
“How convenient.” Said the man in the grey suit as he smiled at his good fortune.
“What’s that?” The fat man said, looking up at him through fogged black rimmed glasses.
“I won’t have to break into your room to kill you.”
The fat man smiled nervously at what he assumed was some kind of a joke. He didn’t notice the knife grey suit had slipped out of his pocket. He certainly didn’t notice when it was plunged into his neck. He was dead before he had the opportunity to resist. The man in the grey suit continued his ride to the 4th floor. Exiting quickly, he ran to the stairwell and traversed to the building’s rooftop, taking the stairs two at a time. Using the suitcase placed there for him, he quickly changed clothes and calmly strolled down to the hotel bar. She was blonde. They were always blonde. He liked them that way.