“I’d certainly like to think so.” It was freezing cold and it was late. Deserted and forgotten, both the underpass and railway seemed to be more of a ghost town than anything else. Except for the occasional train passing by, nothing seemed to move.
“It seems like there’s always someone missing. I wonder where all these people go.” One of the men was shorter while the other one was taller and heavier. Both of them wore all black and had broad shoulders and big arms. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone.
“You never really find out if they find them, do you?” Anybody passing through the underpass at that time, would undoubtedly remember the two strange men standing there. Their unremarkable appearance would however result in very bland descriptions to the cops. That would be of little help.
“I guess you could find a list of people that they’ve found somewhere on their…” The rest of the sentence was lost in the rumbling noise of a train pulling into the station. Both men put on black gloves and walked over to the stairs of platform 8. On the platform there were very few people. The conductor waited for everybody to get off. They saw only 4 or 5 passengers walking towards the stairs. One man got off at the far end of the platform and came down the stairs long after the rest of the passengers. “Showtime,” said the small one. The man coming down the stairs had a tall, slender figure and wore an old raincoat and a worn-down hat. Underneath his open raincoat he was wearing a suit. A slip of his shirt was hanging out of his pants and his tie had been undone. His glasses seemed to go natural with the shape of his face. He carried a briefcase and had obviously had a long day at the office. As he walked by the two men, hardly even noticing them, they followed him immediately. The tallest of the two men stuck a gun in the man’s back while the other one said: “Evening mister Carter. Just keep walking, act casual and don’t try anything funny.” Mister Carter paled but didn’t flinch. He kept his composure and continued his walk through the underpass, making his way to the underground parking lot at the end of it. The two men lead him to their car where they opened the trunk. The trunk was lined with a large plastic sheet. As mister Carter saw this his eyes opened wide and then glazed over as his mouth gaped. He quickly turned around to face the men. “Mugsy sends his regards.” Two clicks and while he collapsed they pushed him into the trunk. “I bet they have a reasonable success-rate finding those kids.” The shorter one picked up mister Carter’s briefcase and the tall one got in the driver’s seat.
A black Volkswagen sedan pulled out of the underground parking lot of the Leuven railway station.