The Hired Killer

He had just come out of his swimming pool, and was looking forward to a large glass of gin and tonic. He had already placed a bottle of gin, tonic, glasses and an ice-bucket on the small table himself, seeing that he was alone in his fortress home. At great expense he had chosen the best security available. He did not believe in bodyguards, because who could you trust? Wasn’t Indira Gandhi shot by the man employed to protect her? With cameras and locked gates you were safe. In any case he was never less than five metres from his Glock. He had just poured the gin in the glass, and was about to drop an ice cube in it when he heard a rustle. His first reaction was to dismiss this as hysteria, for who would have been able to break in here? Then suddenly before he had reached the ice bucket, there, large as life was the hired killer. He had no doubt about who the man was. The man looking at him with a grin on his face had been sent to kill him. He had always known that Novotnik wanted him dead, and knew how single-minded he was. Almost as single-minded as himself. He conceded that, caught unawares, there was no escape. Novotnik would only send the best. An ex-FSB man no less. His affairs were more or less in order, so now was as good as any other time to snuff it.

He put both his hands up and waved them playfully.

-I give up. You win. Novotnik?

-Da.

-Look, I promise you I am not gonna do anything desperate_

-Not much point, is there?

-Quite. So grab yourself a chair and let’s have a gin and tonic together like the civilised men we are.

-No harm in that.

The killer sat and he poured the drinks. Anybody looking at them would have have taken them for friends socialising. Out of interest he asked, casually, ‘How much is he paying you for the job?’ He was shocked when he heard. ‘Fifty grand? Is that what he thinks I’m worth? Is that what he thinks you’re worth? I’ll tell you one thing, that Novotnik he’s a mean bugger, he lacks class.’

-Da.

They laughed as if they were sharing a joke.

He poured his companion another class.

-In Russia we drink vodka, in London we drink gin and tonic,’ the man said with a laugh.

-I’ve got some Baltic herring somewhere, he said.

-Good, let’s go get it, but I need to come with you.

-Of course.

Together they went inside and he found a jar in the fridge and they came back by the poolside, and pulled the fish with their own fingers and committed them into their mouths whole.

He was surprised to find that he was not afraid of death. With a professional killer, it would be done efficiently and quickly. A good way to go.

-I was thinking of something_’ he began, but stopped.

-What?

-No, forget it, I don’t want to insult you.

-No, tell me, I am not easily insulted.

-Well … you’re a professional killer, right?

-Da.

-You kill for money?

-Da.

-If Novotnik pays you fifty grand to kill me, would you kill him for one hundred grand if I hire you? The visitor had a hearty laugh.

-Yes, I would_

He had not worked this out as a devious plan. The words just came out of his mouth.

-In that case_

-Sorry, gospodin, I must stop you. Had you asked me first, I’d have been happy to oblige, but I have a contract with Novotnik. It’s a question of honour.

-So, nothing doing?

-I didn’t say that. I fulfil Novotnik’s contract first, and if you wish, pay me one hundred grand and I will be happy to shoot Novotnik for you.