THE HUNT
The limousine idles in a parking lot while I check my phone, refreshing a website page over and again in hopes that the sales numbers will change. But, nothing. Not a single sale. It worsens my mood and I glance at Paul. He sits like a statue on the seat opposite me in the limo, waiting for me.
"Some say killing is easy, but it's not. Before you can learn to be a killer, you must kill. I imagine that's a confusing thing to hear, but to be honest, I don't give a damn."
Paul gulps in air and I light a cigarette. Returning my attention to the phone, I open a message from Saul and show the screen to Paul. He studies the map, using two fingers to zoom closer on the target address.
"That's a residential address."
"You're quick, Paul. We're hunting a man today. Mostly, men live in houses."
He begins to respond, but thinks better of it and leans back against the headrest, eyes locked with mine. I tap a button on the console built into the door and a drawer opens, revealing a row of handguns. Removing one, I eject the clip and the bullet in the chamber before handing the gun to Paul. While he examines it, I retrieve a silencer and black gloves and place the items in a pile next to him on the seat.
"Tell me about this man we are hunting. What do I need to know about him?"
"He's a Nazi. That's all the information you need. As for the deed, it could not be simpler. Saul will park outside the home. You'll enter the building and execute the target. Drop the gun next to the body and return to the limousine. Any questions?"
"Won't someone see? It's still light out."
I take a drag of my cigarette and stare out the window. It's tiring dealing with the anxiety of my book and explaining these simple things to him. "We wait for nightfall, then we move. Is that it, you're worried about being caught? No other questions about your target?"
The clicking sound of Paul disassembling the handgun fills the limousine and I turn to watch him work. He places the pieces on a copy of my book, using it as a makeshift table on his lap. With a series of deft movements, he assembles the pieces and loads the firearm.
"Saul taught you well. That was very well done."
"I do have one question. Is this man guilty?"
"He's a Nazi. Self-professed. You need know nothing more about him."
Paul nods and I tap a button on the phone to play music. We wait for darkness and listen to Mozart.
"Some say killing is easy, but it's not. Before you can learn to be a killer, you must kill. I imagine that's a confusing thing to hear, but to be honest, I don't give a damn."
Paul gulps in air and I light a cigarette. Returning my attention to the phone, I open a message from Saul and show the screen to Paul. He studies the map, using two fingers to zoom closer on the target address.
"That's a residential address."
"You're quick, Paul. We're hunting a man today. Mostly, men live in houses."
He begins to respond, but thinks better of it and leans back against the headrest, eyes locked with mine. I tap a button on the console built into the door and a drawer opens, revealing a row of handguns. Removing one, I eject the clip and the bullet in the chamber before handing the gun to Paul. While he examines it, I retrieve a silencer and black gloves and place the items in a pile next to him on the seat.
"Tell me about this man we are hunting. What do I need to know about him?"
"He's a Nazi. That's all the information you need. As for the deed, it could not be simpler. Saul will park outside the home. You'll enter the building and execute the target. Drop the gun next to the body and return to the limousine. Any questions?"
"Won't someone see? It's still light out."
I take a drag of my cigarette and stare out the window. It's tiring dealing with the anxiety of my book and explaining these simple things to him. "We wait for nightfall, then we move. Is that it, you're worried about being caught? No other questions about your target?"
The clicking sound of Paul disassembling the handgun fills the limousine and I turn to watch him work. He places the pieces on a copy of my book, using it as a makeshift table on his lap. With a series of deft movements, he assembles the pieces and loads the firearm.
"Saul taught you well. That was very well done."
"I do have one question. Is this man guilty?"
"He's a Nazi. Self-professed. You need know nothing more about him."
Paul nods and I tap a button on the phone to play music. We wait for darkness and listen to Mozart.
