“Take this and hide,” the professor said, handing over a gray suitcase and closing the door. To an outside observer, the door was barely noticeable. It was an old broom closet whose handle had broken a long time ago, so the only way to open or close the door was with a jerk. Even local employees were unaware of the small closet, which made it a perfect hiding place.
From inside the closet, an attentive, frightened eye watched the scene unfold outside. Looking through the keyhole, the vision wasn't the sharpest or the most perfect, but it was enough to see the scene that unfolded next.
It didn't take long for the door to the room to burst open. A few men entered, judging by the sound of footsteps. However, only one came close enough to be visible to the observer from inside the closet.
“Professor,” said this man, in a calm, calm voice. Dangerously calm, perhaps. It was the voice of a persuasive man, who got what he wanted, and who preferred not to use force, though he didn't shy away from doing so when necessary. “You knew we would come. Why the surprise?".
On the other side, the host looked on, openmouthed. His face wore a terrified expression, and his dread was such that he couldn't even summon the strength to respond.
“Now don't be shy,” said the first man, straightening the professor's bow tie, who was dressed in a shabby beige suit. The man's suit, dark blue and tailored, was in stark contrast to the professor's attire. His clothes, and his manners, implied that he was some kind of successful businessman or important politician. His accent was not local, but at the same time it was difficult to discern its origin. “There is nothing to fear. See, I'm a rational man. I am fair. I don't see why the two of us can't profit from this encounter”.
The intruder smiled broadly and walked away from the professor, taking a few steps around him. Despite his efforts to sound friendly and gentle, the observer got the impression that the man was like a wolf, surrounding his prey and playing with his feelings before making the fatal strike.
“You have something we want. I know you know what I'm talking about. Well, if you give us back, I'm willing to be benevolent and let you get out of this meeting alive. Doesn't it seem fair? Of course your life is worth more than a few papers and a few trinkets, isn't it?” he asked convincingly.
“If these trinkets are worthless…” said the professor, after a long period of silence. "Then why are you willing to... kill me for them?" he asked.
The man laughed. “Well, the value is relative, my dear. The knickknacks may be worth little. But to me your life is worth even less. I could kill you just for the fun of watching your last breath. But I'm offering my mercy. So, what do you say about my agreement?" asked the man, offering his hand for a squeeze.
The professor watched the man for several seconds. To the observer, whose heart was pounding as hard as drums and whose eyes were dilated with adrenaline, it seemed an eternity for the professor to act. In a quick movement, that is, as fast as his elderly body would allow, the professor ran to a drawer, from which he pulled out a revolver. Before he could take aim, however, the man had already approached, with almost superhuman speed. He caught the professor's wrist just as he was about to fire, and moments before his finger pulled the trigger, the man pushed his hand up into the air, causing every shot from the revolver to hit the ceiling.
“You made the wrong choice,” said the man, in a disappointed voice. He pulled a strange dagger out of his suit, and stabbed the professor in the stomach, a few inches below his left rib. The professor let out a short cry of agony, falling heavily to the floor as blood slowly dripped onto the wooden floor.
The man, in turn, approached the fallen old man, preparing to take his life. “Not yet,” a voice, coming from a corner of the room where the observer could not see, said before the man in the suit could deliver the last blow. “He can still be useful” reiterated the same voice, which was more dreadful than any sound ever heard in that house. The man in the suit silently consented and grabbed the professor by the shirt collar, dragging him across the floor toward the door. The professor's gaze flicked one last time to the keyhole of that secret door, from which he knew he was being watched. In his black eyes, pain and despair gave way, for a brief fraction of a second, to hope. He closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate, leaving the observer alone and safe.