Hitman Blues [FICTOID]

They met in a crummy motel room.  It rained that day.

The capo wrote a name and address on a piece of paper then handed it over.  “Memorize that, then hand it back.”

“I know this guy,” said the hitman.

The capo paused.  “That gonna be a problem?”

“No problem.”

The hitman handed the paper back.  He wore gloves to leave no fingerprints and a hoodie pulled tight to leave no stray hairs for DNA analysis.

The capo tore the paper into shreds, lit those on fire, dropped them in the toilet, then flushed.

Standard procedure.  Don’t mention any identifying information out loud, who knows who’s wearing a wire or which room is bugged.

“Any questions?” the capo asked, wiping the ash off his hands.

“Yeah.  Why?”

The capo scowled.  “You don’t need to know why.”

“I do need to know why,” said the hitman.  “That’s why you pay me as much as you do.  I’m efficient, but to be efficient I need to know enough about the target to do the job.  Especially this job.  He’s one of ours.”

The capo understood “ours” meant the group of freelancers the organization hired to eliminate problems.

He shrugged and said, “You keep up with the news?  Then you know somebody outside the organization made some problems for us.  Couldn’t let that continue, but he was too high placed, too prominent to hit.

“But we decided to hit him anyway.  Had one of our guys get one of his foot soldiers who knew a wannabe to do the job.  Got the wannabe away from the scene then ‘assisted’ in his suicide.”

“Yeah, figured that from the news,” said the hitman.

“Problem is, the foot soldier and the guy above him knew too much.  They mighta squealed if pressured, so…”

“You hit them.”

“Right.  Hired your friend to do the job.”

“He’s not my friend.  Why didn’t that end the problem?”

The capo looked genuinely embarrassed.  “The big boys don’t want to take chances.  If the authorities look into the deaths of the foot soldier and his boss, they might find a link to your target, and if your target gets caught and talks, that could lead to me and those higher up.”

“Understood,” said the hitman.  He pulled a .22 revolver out of his pocket, lethal enough at close range but not so loud that a single shot would draw undo attention.

Besides, the motel stood mostly empty at this time of day, and the rain masked sound.

The capo blanched.  “They set me up, didn’t they?”

The hitman nodded.  “One more link better off removed.”

The capo licked his lips, stalling for time.  “What if…what if I hired you to hit the guy above me?”

“Too late,” said the hitman.  “I already killed him when he made the offer.”

He pulled the trigger.

He always possessed a finely honed sense of self-preservation.

© Buzz Dixon