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The Keeper of Secrets

Whenever the phone rang it was because something had to be hushed. There were no courtesy calls for him. The insistent ringing of the phone meant someone needed his expertise.

He would always let it ring and never picked it up too quickly, psychological edge he told himself. With no answering machine it was simple but effective method to get people to stay on the edge.

He had been doing this for a long time. He never wanted to be here and hated every moment of it. He abhorred the thought that people thought of him as a clean up man. But it mattered little today. He was there with a reason; the reason was revenge. Likes and dislikes were not to be weighed now when all his work was taking shape. Years of patient planning could not be let go in waste over likes and dislikes of a chosen path. The apple cart should chug along was his way of putting it into words.

Information is power. Placing and using it in the right manner is said to be their enrichment for potent effect and use. The years spent enriching the information was to come to a conclusion today. He was ready to unleash its full fury on unsuspecting guilty souls. It brought to light the military term, surgical strike. He was about to do just that; create chaos and disappear.

The phone ringing now was his own doing. The ball was set in motion and he was all set to disappear into thin air. In his line of work silence and anonymity were the foundation to a long career and a safer life.

The person calling had carried out instructions for money. With no names, loyalties were available for the right price. Just a phone number untraceable to him, connected the caller and him for the few moments the call lasted. Sipping on his hot coffee he listened; it was all working out as clockwork. The rain outside made the weather gloomy, a play of dark shadows.

The keeper of secrets was all set to leave his mark on a lot of lives but with the caveat that none ever came back searching for him. Rich beyond many, he cashed it all, property, assets and the most important; his goodwill.

He called for a cab and in the time it arrived took the short walk to his bank. He left the keys of his lair with his past bankers for the new buyers to pick up. Outside the bank he destroyed the last link with this world; his cell phone. The hard rain felt good on his skin. His vengeance would be complete. People will die, lives would be crushed, families and each of its members will be facing off each other in killing rage. He had unleashed madness and expected some of the people to take their own lives. The rest will kill each other and the surviving few will end up in their own hells.

Six hours later in another part of the world he logged on to the internet; 17 suicides; better than his estimation of 8 or 9. Mayhem was not just on the streets but it had seeped into the cracks of the souls of the guilty. News had spread and gossip took it farther.

The dark skies had just turned darker, an imminent storm, but it no longer bothered him. He was seeing the silver lining. A smile escaped his lips; this was after all, just the beginning.

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