“Kid, when you’re recognized in this business, you’re dead. And I doubt the legend ever allowed any recent photo to be taken.”
The boy continued to walk about. “What a dump. Whose apartment is this, anyway?”
“I couldn’t tell you, kid. It’s safe enough for the hit. That’s all we need to know.”
“Well, I know he thinks he’s coming here for a meeting. Wichai told him it’s a meeting to plan a hit.” The boy slammed his fist into his palm. “Hah! But what he doesn’t know is he’s the target. We’re the hitters and he’s the hittee! This should be fun.”
The big man gave him a look, saying nothing.
The boy looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
“He’ll be here. And shouldn’t you be sitting down somewhere by now?”
The boy walked toward the man and stopped just a foot away. His hand reached out near the man’s gun. “Hey! Tha—”
The big man quickly and expertly moved behind the boy, throwing one arm around his neck and holding a knife at his throat.
“I… I was only going to say Ampol won at Lumpini again. It’s… it’s there. In your newspaper. I mean, motherfucker, he’s practically an old man and he’s still fighting.”
The man looked toward the newspaper and understood his mistake. In his day Ampol had been one of the best Muay Thai fighters he had ever fought. It was Ampol’s incredibly fast mid-air elbow strike which had scarred his face and dropped him. One of the big man’s few defeats in the ring.
He released the boy, replaced his knife in his belt and sat down. He reached into his gun kit and withdrew a silicone gun cloth. He began wiping down his revolver. “Sorry, kid. I thought… You know.”
The boy stared at the big man. “That hurt! We’re on the same side, right?”
“You been in this business a long time, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Lots of hits, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“So how come you talk so much?”
The boy stared at the man, his expression a cross between shame and anger, and sat down on the sofa.
“... How come you still use a revolver? You only get five shots with what you got.”
“Had a semi-automatic jam on me once. Almost got me killed.”
“I got thirteen rounds. And one in the chamber.”
“Doesn’t matter how many rounds you got if your weapon jams. You’re dead. You die because you’re semi jams, you’ll end up the wrong kind of legend. ”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be the right kind of legend. The biggest there ever was. I’m gonna be the best! A guy’s name is what counts, and people are gonna say my name with respect.”
The boy pointed his finger toward the room’s only floor lamp and pretended to fire.
“Bad-ass, huh?”
“Damn right!”
“And you’ll get top dollar?”
“Fuckin’ A!”
The boy took out a pack of cigarettes, placed one between his lips and struck a match.
“This is a no-smoking area.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t mind dying quick with a round through the heart, but I’m not lying in a hospital bed coughing my lungs out.”
The boy hesitated and then angrily snubbed the match out. He muttered a swear word under his breath. He tried to sit still but was too restless and fidgety.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. The kid drew his gun and jumped up. The man continued cleaning as before. The footsteps faded. The man glanced up at the boy. The boy, embarrassed, put his gun away and sat down.
“Shouldn’t we at least lock the door? I mean, he could barge in on us and take us out before we could react... You just gonna keep cleanin’ that thing?”
“Two rules, kid. One, respect your weapon. Two, respect the intelligence of your opponent.”
“That’s why we should lock the door.”
“No. That’s why we should leave it unlocked.”
“Man, I just hope—”
The big man suddenly stared into the inner hallway of the apartment and held up his hand. “Shhh!”
“What?”
“You hear anything?”
The boy jumped up awkwardly. “No... I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should have checked the other rooms.”
“You didn’t check the apartment?”
“The front door was locked when I got here.”
The big man shrugged. “I just thought—”
“You dog’s ass!”
The boy pulled out his weapon and rushed from the room. The big man watched him enter the narrow inner hallway and disappear. The man quickly placed all five bullets in his cylinder, snapped it shut and placed his revolver in a belt holster. He rose and stood to the side of the hallway where the boy wouldn’t be able to spot him in time.
He could hear the panic in the boy’s voice.
“Motherfucker! Motherfucker!”
The boy rushed into the living room, gun in hand. The man drew his own gun.
“There’s a body in the bathtub! There’s blood all over the fuckin’ place! You hear me? There’s a body in the—”
In one fast, smooth movement, the man lifted the boy’s gun from his hand as he smashed his own gun down on the back of the boy’s head. The boy fell to his knees, stunned by the blow.
“Don’t move.”
The man placed the boy’s gun in his own belt and checked his body for other weapons. The boy held the back of his head with both hands.
“Jesus Christ! My head! Are you crazy?”
The man finished patting him down. He found no other weapons.
“Okay, I get it. He came early. You wasted him before I got here. You want to keep all the money, right? Okay. You earned it, so keep it! It’s yours. I’ll tell Wichai I got here too late. You hadda do the job yourself. Just let me go!”
The man walked behind him and placed the muzzle of his revolver flush against the back of the boy’s head. “You still don’t get it, do you, kid? The man in the bathtub was the man you were supposed to meet.”
“... The who?”
“I’m the legend.”
The boy started to turn his head, but the man pushed the gun harder. “Don’t turn around, kid.”
“How did you...”
“I warned you: always respect the intelligence of your opponent. You don’t get to be a legend by falling into traps. I’m not the hittee.” He cocked the hammer of his revolver. You are.”
“Don’t! Please!”
“Okay, kid, here’s how it works. You tried a hit; it backfired. But nothing personal, right? No need for you to suffer. So, I’m going to send a round into your brain. It’s the fastest way to get your body to shut down. But, even then, your heart will most likely keep pumping for a few minutes. Problem is, it’ll be pumping the blood out of your system. Like the plug’s been pulled, and the heart’s now working against itself. A brainless muscle if ever there was one, huh? Then your body temperature falls and your system begins shutting down. Clinical death. Biological death. End of story...”
“Please, no! Don’t kill me! I can pay you. Just take my wallet! I’ll—”
“Stop crying, kid. It doesn’t help. But I’ll tell you something. You know what I noticed in this business, kid? Some guys die with their eyes open, and some die with their eyes shut. I wondered about that for years. Then I decided that either was acceptable. There isn’t any god that cares one way or the other. But the guy with his eyes open? I’d say he’s more dead than the guy with his eyes shut. Which are you gonna be, kid? Open or shut?”
“Don’t kill me! Please! I’ll pay you whatever you want!”
“Kid, don’t take it so hard. Like I said, it’s nothing personal. But if I don’t waste you now, you might come after me. Who knows? You might get lucky.”
“No! I wouldn’t. I swear it. I wouldn’t dare!”