Hitman: Letters
II
A week prior, a café hospitalized our meeting. Vorpeik's deathbed was being arranged. "I suppose I have the right place. Jean Luc, is it?"
"Correct you are, though I haven't received your title."
"47. I choose to keep my name anonymous." The words came out of my mouth as easily as they always did. What a perfect lie.
"Funny, these 'agencies'. Such perfect ways to conceal an identity: Numbers."
"Seems as if you've dealt with our kind before, then?"
"Precisely. You're not the first, hit man I've seen. And in fact, I once contemplated a job, or maybe even a profession such as yours."
"I see."
"If I may, I would like to use the spare time that I do indeed have to tell you a bit about the season that is prospering here in Rome."
"I have nowhere else to be."
"Well, This is known as 'Paris, Italy week' to most of the locals, but it doesn't actually have a name. This time of year, every year, Merchants from France come to Rome because around this time, prices are down in Paris."
"I suppose tastes go by seasons." He showed a look of obvious relaxation.
"You could say that. Well, either because of missing a purchase, or because of vacationing, French people still come here, to Rome, around this time. So, as you could probably imagine, it's hard to tell if you're in Paris, or in Rome. But the reason I am here," he handed me the files, "is obviously because of vengeance." I made to open the files, but he motioned me to do it elsewhere due to a curious bartender overlooking my shoulder.
"I don't know if you are aware of this, but I'm to acquire a job from your boss, Alexander Haven, the night of your hit. Have you any idea what it is?"
"If I knew monsieur, I couldn't tell you. And, even if I could tell you, we're in a café." He was undoubtedly uneasy about his work, and Haven's, but I pressed him.
"Come now, have you no knowledge? There are about fifty to sixty people in this small café, who care nothing about what you or I have to say, and as well, most of them are drunk or stoned." He didn't change expression.
"Oh, but haven't you knowledge, 47, half of these people that are drunken and stoned are cops, and we're in Italy. People will turn you in just for another round of shots."
"Well then, let's take our business elsewhere." He agreed, and we both went outside and walked into a nearby alley, neither of us paying any attention to the latter's movements, but both obviously tense.
"I know you want more preparation time, 47, but I don't know the goddamn name."
"Oh, but I think you do. You're his right-hand man, his highest amigo, he wouldn't let anything slip by you, not even a hit. I want the fucking name."
"Monsieur, you would have to chop my fucking balls off before I would give you any damn name!"
"I have a knife, and I've done worse." He seemed taken aback by these words, but he kept his same facial expression of intensity and anger.
"If I give you the name, you do something else for me."
"What would that be?"
"A very simple task. Well, you would think so. If I give you the name, all you have to do, is deliver a letter."
"A letter," I repeated. Right then, it all seemed so easy. So painstakingly easy, that I wanted to completely refuse the offer, shoot him in the face and walk away. It was all for a name that I would receive nonetheless at a later time. All for a name that already had a price that I didn't have to pay. A fucking name that I already had a Fortsnaut in the back of my trunk for, and various other items. I honestly wanted to turn it down, but really, I needed that preparation time.
"It seems that you're bullshitting me. You want me to deliver a letter, in return for something that you would lay your life down upon?" He looked at me a general anger now, but said in a regular tone, "Yes. Have you prepared at all for my boss's hit?"
The only thing I know about the kill, is that it involves a fat man, and a sniper rifle. Locations, names, reasons, times, and dates, I will have originally received two hours prior to the meeting with Haven, from the agency, via my hotel mailbox."
"Well, since I found a simple way of getting around Haven's orders, you'll be getting all the information now." He took out a small, torn envelops out of his coat pocket and handed it to me. I took it, thinking that Haven wanted him to have a backup copy, just in case.
"Well, now that we have that settled, Luc, where, when, and to whom shall I deliver this letter?"
"You'll receive that information some time next week. I am sorry Mr. 47, but I must say abandon our meeting. I will see you again at another time. I bade him a short farewell, and got into my car.
The emergency exit briskly opened as if it were automatic, and I stored my half-empty Silverballer into my coat pocket. The weather was as I had left it, only an hour before, and I was reminded of the meeting I had had a week before. The letter Jean Luc had given me was safely in the glove compartment of my jaguar. When I opened the door to the jaguar, I peered inside of the building to find the blankly staring corpse of the security guard, still at his desk, his coffee all over the floor. As suspected, Jean Luc had taken care of the guard while I was in the meeting. One less bullet out of my Silverballer. I turned the ignition on, and the heater as well. The police wouldn't arrive, or even know of the killings until tomorrow, when I would have a separate job to handle. I wasn't one to be curious, but a little reading of the letter wouldn't bother me in the morning. I retrieved the letter out of the glove compartment, and tore off the symbol of a raven and the number 6 which enclosed it. The letter read:
Dear Mr. 47,the curious man who is possibly saving his life by eavesdropping on this letter, It's nice to know that you've been working with the people who are the sole rivals of your agency. As well, it's nice to have a man such as Philippe Jean Luc to do the task of giving you this letter in the first place. How idiotic of you, a man of no identity, to walk into our little trap. Even I, myself never would have thought that it could have worked, but obviously, it did. Now that I have exposed your dumbass, let me tell you the importance of this letter. Last year, you faked your death in order to kill a man who was very dear to me, and my fellow men. You literally rose from the grave and massacred armed men, as well as innocent civilians. Now since you like playing little fucking games with my friends, I've decided that I will play a little game with you. You currently are to kill Contrassegno D'florva, but I have three more hits for you as well, which if you do not complete, you will receive a bullet for. If you want to know those names, you have to go to the enclosed address, and kill everyone inside, no exceptions. Once you do this, you will find a letter enclosed inside of a jewelry box, with my emblem, which will continue to lead you on this trail. If you aren't reading this, you're already dead. If you are, you will be dead, nonetheless. Don't plan on saving your life, I guess I have given you false hope. Your "father" would be proud.
My sincerity,