The Hitman

The Assignment

They say murder is illegal, but I say it is an art. I am an artist, unconventional but one nonetheless.

I am a hitman.

They call me a murderer, but they are so wrong. You see, it isn't murder until someone finds the body.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, does it really make a sound?  If there's never a body, can there really be a murderer?

--

I leaned back in my chair.  The waitress brought me a drink and I nodded.  She lingered for a moment, leaning forward and brushing my arm, but I wasn't in the mood for her likes. Preoccupied, I flipped her a coin and she left, disheartened. I smirked and ground a cigarette butt with my shoe.

My eyes scanned the smoke-filled room and I frowned. "See that guy?" I murmured to Jay.

Jay looked around, a little more conspicuously than I would have liked. He turned back to me. "The dude who looks like he could break the floor?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that's the one.  He's looking for someone.  Chances are, me."

Jay frowned and drummed his fingers.  "To arrest you?"

I grinned and put on my sunglasses.  "Please.  A guy like that couldn't lay a finger on me."

"Nick," Jay said, "no one could-"

"Shh...." I ordered.

The heavy man approached our table.  Without asking for permission, he pulled up a chair and sat down.  I nodded and pursed my lips, pulling my sleeves up ever so slightly. The man's eyes widened at the glint of metal, but he stayed still otherwise. I glanced at Jay, who raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"They say you're the guy to see," the man blurted out. He exhaled heavily.

I leaned forward coolly.  "For what?"

The man looked around suspiciously, then put an elbow on the table to get closer. My nose wrinkled at the scent of body odor. The man stared me directly in the eyes and whispered, "Murder."

I sat back and propped my feet up on the table, breaking the heated moment. I put my hands behind my head and smiled coyly, glancing toward Jay.  "You hear this guy?"

Jay shrugged.  "Either this is someone's idea of a prank, or his sources are terribly wrong."

I nodded and turned back to the man. "And who might you be?"

The man held out a sweaty hand, but I shook my head and frowned.  He nodded and retracted it.  "Richard Donovan.  Let's just say I've got a score to settle."

"And you think I can help with that?" I questioned.

Richard leaned forward and put a finger on the table.  It turned nearly white from all the pressure, and was trembling ever so slightly. "You know, in the near future my cousin will suffer an unfortunate accident.  I will be coming into a rather large sum of money." He smiled at me like we were old friends sharing a secret.

I rubbed my hands together but didn't return his smile.  "You assume many things.  I have enough information to turn you in right now."

"I won't double cross you."  Richard waved his handkerchief in the air.  "If I turn, you report me to the police."

"Oh, so you could hypothetically take me down, too?"

"I know better than to get on the wrong side of a hitman."

I pushed my sunglasses down and glared at him.  "You got one thing right."  I stood up and nodded.  "You're too trusting, Rich.  One day, it'll get you in trouble."

"People don't call me--"

"It won't matter what people call you if you aren't around to hear it." I nodded curtly and walked out.