The Hitman Part II

Going International

  Damn, things are getting pretty boring around here Bill thinks to himself as he shoots back another glass of bourbon at 10:00 in the morning. He isn't drinking in Jim's Place like he used to, he's over at the old bar across town, the one with the row of old wooden phone booths along the wall as you walk in. It's dark in here. In the daytime you can't even see the tables in the back, up the small flight of stairs. Another hit-man, Kurt, used to hang out here but he's moved on from the city. Things around here got a little crazy after that hired assassin from Ireland was killed. It was a beating Bill will never forget! Someone else Bill will never forget is Jenny. Once and a while he buys a ticket and sits in the back row watching her play her violin in the orchestra. She noticed him on the street one time and tried to file a restraining order in him, but since he officially joined The Council his identity was changed and the old Bill was found dead. The Coroner pulled a John-Doe out of deep freeze, switched around some dental records and fingerprints, next thing you know there's a military funeral and Bill has a new identity. He got rid of the beard too. He wears a suit most days, nothing too fancy, never a tie; in a fight they could use a tie as a noose. Bill's just sitting there at the far end of the bar where it's good and dark, all the old men are sitting up front, drinking their coffee or V8, watching the local morning news, talking about the old days. It's all the same bull-shit day after day. Damn I have to get out of here! The Council has been slow with jobs the last couple years because of how Bill handled everything with Jenny. "FUUUUCK!" Bill yells out from the darkness. Everyone turns to look. "You good son?" says Kelly. Kelly is the owner of this place and the guy who hands out assignments, just like Jimmy. "I'm fucking board as hell Kelly! I have to get out of town." That's what they were waiting for. They were waiting to see the flip. Maybe now he's ready. One of the old guys at the bar winks at Kelly and says, "Give him an easy one. It's time." He walks down to where Bill is sitting and slips him a manila envelope. Kelly, "Take a little trip down to Austin. You know it's the live music capital of the hicks or some shit like that. Lots of clubs, nightlife, women. Go get laid, whack this scum-bag, clear your head, figure out what you want to do from there." Texas, he was stationed in Texas for about 2 years but truthfully, he spent most of that time deployed to the Middle East. Maybe bumming around Texas for a while will be a good thing, a change of scenery at least. Yee-Haw mother fucker he thinks to himself. "Do I need a cowboy hat?" They all laugh. One of the old guys says "Yeah, go join the rodeo. Maybe they'll put a saddle on you and ride you around like a broke-back bronco!" Another old boy says, "Steers and queers Billy, steers and queers!"

He thinks to himself as he walks out of the sliding doors of the airport, Austin in the summer time, damn this is hot! I don't remember it being so hot down here. He jumps in a cab and tells him to take him down to the river walk. "Yankee huh?" "Sure." "Where ya from?" "Up near New York." "Well ho-lee shit! A real life, New York Yankee!" Bill looks at the driver's eyes in the rear view mirror. Bill squints his eyes and clinches his jaw, "Relax son, I'm fuckin' with ya! What brings ya down here?" Bill chills out and sits back, "Just work man. I'm just here to do some work and then I'm out." "What do ya do?" "Investment banking." "I see. So you're a professional criminal? Eh, just fuckin' with ya!" "You're not far from the truth mister" replied Bill." "Where ya stayin'?" "I'll find something." "There's a nice place right around the corner here." "Alright. Thanks." "You want I should drop you off here? This is the start of the river walk area." "Yeah, thanks." "If'n you're planning on sticking around a while, a sir or ma'am wouldn't hurt now and then Yankee." "What's that?" The cab driver waves his hand toward Bill as if he's shoeing away a fly and shakes his head.

This place looks pretty cool he thinks. I might just find a little place in the shade and have me a beer. "Thanks doll" he says as the waitress sets his beer on the table. "Doll? We don't hear that much around here. Where you from? 1930?" "Nah, I'm from up north." "Well you don't say! I'll tell you a secret Hun, everyone who visits Texas is from up north." "I suppose." "If you need anything just shout." "Pawn Shop." "Sir?" "Is there a pawn shop around here?" "Down on your luck already?" "No, I'm just curious. It's research." "Down that way and over about 2 blocks." "Thanks doll." Bill sips his beer and watches the mass of people passing by. Tourists. They're all tourists. I'm not even from here and I can pick out all the tourists. That weird half naked guy over there playing guitar probably isn't even from Texas. Half the people are wearing t-shits that say something about Texas or the Alamo, some of them still have the price tag on their cowboy hat. It's a good thing I didn't buy a cowboy hat at the airport. He laughs a little. Well, let's go see this pawn shop. Bill is soaked in sweat as he reaches the pawn shop. There's no 7 pointed star in the window. Damn. He walks in and strolls around acting like he's looking at stuff. "Can I help you find anything?" says the man behind the counter. "Well sir" replied Bill, "I'm looking for something particular and you don't seem to have any in stock. Is there another establishment in the area?" "This is a town of broken dreams; there are a hundred of these "establishments" around the city." "Thanks." "Anytime! We're open 7 days a week. Let me know if you want to make a deal on that watch son!" Hmmm what to do, what to do. Moped rental? Nothing screams tourist like riding around town on a powder blue rental moped. But if there are a hundred pawn shops it's going to take forever. Bill buzzes around the streets on his little moped. It's kind of fun he thinks but I just feel so stupid. My old Army buddies would kick my ass, nah, we'd all have our own moped and we'd be jumping curbs and crashing into the bushes and shit. He sees another pawn shop, no star, crap. Store after store and no star. They say you always find what you're looking for in the last place you look. It makes sense but it doesn't. It took all day to find this place. Edge of town, worst place imaginable, but there's the star. That moped was gone 10 seconds after Bill walked through the door. The guy behind the counter greets Bill in Spanish. "Hola amigo." Bill replies, "I don't speak any Spanish. Do you speak English?" "Of course I do gringo! What can I help you with? A new moped maybe?" Bill spins around to look outside, "Fuck!" Everyone in the pawn shop starts laughing. Some random guy starts walking Bill's way and says, "Yes Ese, looks like you are truly fucked!" Another guy starts walking toward him and says, "What are you doing here mister moped boy?" "I'm just looking for a pawnbroker that might have some particular items that are hard to find." The guy behind the counter starts cussing and pointing toward the door. Everyone turns to look at Bill, they kind of nod at him as to say I'll see you later punk. "What kind of item are you searching for?" With his right hand bill reaches down and lifts up his shirt. He has a tattoo about the size of a quarter just above his belt and just below a bullet scar. It's a 7 pointed star with a c in the middle. "Come on back my friend!" He takes Bill into a vault in the back. Just like the guy back home in the city, he has everything. "I just need a little something I can drop and go." "HK .40 with 3 mags and a box of ammo, $2500 gift wrapped. But for you, $3,000 and I'll sneak you out the back door and give you a ride to a more gringo friendly part of town." "Deal." They go out the back door and get into a 77 Impala 2 door. "Nice ride!" said Bill. "Ah, it's just a thing some guy brought in after his lady filed for divorce. He split and went back to Mexico. I'm not into building lowriders or anything so I'm going to end up selling it eventually. You interested?" Bill replied, "No. I'm not really a car guy." "Here. This is your stop Ese." Bill gets out and closes the door, "Wait. Can you tell me where I might find..." "No" and he takes off leaving Bill standing in the street.