by Jon F. Merz
Stahl nodded to himself and then turned into the doorway of the coffee shop.
The door pulled out.
He smiled.
Another good thing.
Inside, thick smoke hung heavy in the coffee shop. Stahl noticed the NO SMOKING sign on the wall and then saw that everyone had a cigarette in their mouth.
Everyone except the American.
He sat at the counter, which faced the door.
Stahl nodded once and then walked over. He kept his hands in sight, the same way the American had his resting on the countertop.
"Good morning."
Frank looked at him. "Morning."
"Interesting choice for a meeting."
Frank shrugged. "Met all the requirements."
"I read earlier today online that smoking had been outlawed in Brookline."
"Outlawed might be too strong a word. They made it illegal to smoke in restaurants and bars around here. Boston's already passed similar legislation."
Stahl glanced around. "And yetÉ"
"The owner is friends with the Health Department. Got himself some sort of special dispensations. Probably has something to do with how much money he kicked in to the last mayor's campaign fund or something like that. Folks come in here to smoke."
"You're not."
The American smiled. "Nope. Doctor told me I had to quit or I'd be dead within a year. So I gave Ôem up."
"Just like that?" Stahl wasn't all that surprised. You didn't become as good as Frank was without some kind of serious discipline.
Frank nodded. "I'm a fairly decisive person. I've found that saves a lot of time. I either make the right decision or the wrong one. But at least I've made one."
"Have you made many wrong decisions?"
"Sure."
"Recently?"
Frank smiled. "I think that was fairly obvious from our run-in yesterday with the merry band of marauders, wouldn't you agree?"
"They actually seemed a bit amateurish to me," said Stahl. "I hope that doesn't come across as too elitist."
The American chuckled. "Used to dealing with more professional hitters, are you?"
"Of course. Most of my opponents have been the special operations units of various countries. Some freelancers working for western intelligence services, that kind of thing."
"Uh huh. Well, my past experience has taught me that any dipshit with a gun can be trouble."
"I don't disagree." Stahl sat down next to Frank. "I merely thought that if they'd been a bit more together, they would have waited for us to emerge and then hit us."
"You want some coffee?"
Stahl nodded. "Sure." He grimaced internally. More of this infernal black tar liquid. What was it about the world that made it run on this substance?
"Your point's well taken, actually," said Frank. "And from what I hear, I might well have some of the folks you deal with heading my way soon enough."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. But let's skip that." He turned to Stahl. "What the hell are you doing here in Boston?"
Stahl smiled and let the hot coffee in front of him sit idle. "I thought you could have figured that out from your trip to my hotel room the other day."
Frank frowned.
Stahl nodded. "You weren't sure that was really something that happened, were you?"
"Maybe I just preferred to think it was a dream."
Stahl tilted his head. "I don't think either of us had been having dreams lately. Do you?"
"Guess not."
Stahl kept one eye on the door. Just in case what the American had said was true and there were more people out there looking to kill him. Stahl didn't need a death sentence via the guilt-by-association clause.
"The fact is, you and I are definitely linked somehow. When we each performed our last mission, we did so at the same time perhaps. Something happened. I don't know what. All I know is we are linked. I can see into your world, and you into mine."
"What have you seen in my world?"
"You live close to the water."
Frank's face showed no hint of emotion. Stahl marveled at his self-control. A lesser man would have shown his concern at having his hide found out. Especially by a potential enemy.
"I'm not intending to use the information against you, if that's what you're thinking."
Frank turned back to his coffee. "If we're doing quid pro quo, I'd appreciate knowing exactly what your target is. All I know is it has something to do with a VIP. A government VIP."
"You saw the stationery."
"Yeah."
"But you don't think it's the president."
"I don't think you would have shown all your cards to me. No."
Stahl took a tiny sip of his coffee, tried not to grimace and then looked at Frank again. "Who taught you your trade?"
"You ducking the question?"
"Not necessarily." Stahl grinned. "Call it a hiatus if you want."
"All right, if we're swapping memories now, I'll go along with it. Just don't take too much time away from the other question." He paused and drank a big gulp of coffee. "When I was younger, a guy named Moe took me under his wing."
"This Moe - he was a professional?"
"Yeah. Former Marine. Specialized in sniper tactics but later on he branched out and did a little of everything."
"But he didn't work for the government?"
Frank smiled. "Not all of the best hitters work for Uncle Sam."
"I think the two of you are evidence enough of that fact." Stahl wiped his mouth on a napkin. "How long did you train with him?"
"Felt like forever. In reality it was maybe ten years."
Ten years! Contrary to how he appeared on the surface, the American had spent more time training than Stahl had. A whole decade! Amazing.
"And then you went out on your own."
"Nah. I apprenticed with Moe for a while. He brought me into the business proper. Got me introduced around. Taught me how to work the players."
"The players in this case being organized crime families."
"Family," said Frank. "Moe's big thing was loyalty. Once you got hired, that was it. You stayed with the family through thick and thin. No matter what. Moe was a bit old-fashioned in that regard. A throwback to the 1950s when people got a job and stayed with it until they retired."
"So what happened to you? What put you on the outs with your employers?"
"Former employers," said Frank. "I'm not attached right now."
"Okay."
Frank was quiet for a moment. "I turned down a hit."
Stahl couldn't picture the American backing out of anything. What had made him do that? "Why?"
Frank paused. "The target was someone I knew."
"That happens sometimes." Stahl looked at him. "There's something more to your story."
"Nosey bastard, aren't you?" Frank smiled though. "Yeah, well, we used to go out - this target and me."
"It was a woman?"
Frank's eyebrows shot up. "Do I look gay?"
Stahl smirked. "If the relationship was in the past, why not complete the assignment anyway? It seems you would have saved yourself a lot of heartache."
"Heartache's a funny choice of words, pal. I'm pretty sure I was damned no matter how I let the coin drop." Frank took another drag on his coffee and looked around the room. "Man, that smoke smells good."
"Still tough not giving in to the desire?"
"Yep."
"So what about the woman?"
"What's to tell? Truth is, I still have feelings for her. I couldn't bring myself to kill her. That was it. The boss found out and tried to get me instead. I took him out-"
"Nice piece of work, by the way."
Frank's eyes narrowed. "You saw that?"
"Didn't it feel like someone was watching you that night?"
"As a matter of factÉ" Frank's voice trailed off. "That explains the feeling I had. At least I know it wasn't paranoia."
"No. Definitely not."
The Americ
an looked at him. "All right, so I've just spent ten minutes exposing myself to your probing questions."
"Yes?"
"Your turn. And you can start by answering the question of what you're doing here in Boston for starters."
Stahl looked at him. He took another tiny sip of coffee. Fair was fair, he supposed. "All right then."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"What would you say if I told you the it was the man with the nuclear football?"
Frank watched Stahl closely. The question seemed fairly innocuous. But it also supposed that Frank knew what a nuclear football was.
He didn't.
"Better clue me in on that."
"Everywhere the president goes, there's a man close by with a briefcase. Inside that briefcase are the codes to launch the United States nuclear arsenal if the situation arises while the president is in transit."
"And you're supposed to kill the guy who carries the codes? Isn't that kind of like shooting the messenger?"
"Actually, the man's death matters little. What counts are the codes inside the briefcase."
"Which your clients wish to possess."
"Client. It's just one man."
"Excuse me for saying so, but it seems like there are only a few options those codes would grant. Annihilation being one of them."
"He won't use the codes to launch the weapons. He intends to blackmail the United States. Some desperate move on his part to bring the last remaining superpower to its knees or some hype like that."
"Hype? You don't buy into this?"
Stahl smiled. "I gave up my youthful foolishness a long time ago in exchange for the joy of raising my son." He frowned. "Unfortunately, my son now languishes in a German hospital in desperate need of an organ transplant." Stahl looked at Frank. "He been suffering for months."
"Sorry to hear that." And he was. Frank hated hearing about children who had to suffer.
"Needless t say, I wouldn't even be here now if my client – as you call him – weren't holding this over my head."
"Holding what?"
"I either complete the mission or he'll see to it that my son dies."
"He'd kill him outright?"
"He would see to it that my son never got close to the operating room. And I'm too poor right now to afford it on my own. I need him and he knows it."
"This isn't a very rosy picture you're painting here, friend."
"I'm not trying to be melodramatic, but you can see the plight I'm facing here. This isn't merely a symbolic gesture on my part. The fate of my only child rests on me being successful."
Frank took another breath and tasted the tar in the air. Damn, he really needed a butt now. "So, you get the codes this guy is carrying with him and then what? You turn them over to this guy and he ransoms the government?"
"Something like that."
Frank shook his head. "What's to stop the government from simply changing the codes once they realize they've been stolen. I mean, it's not like this guy can go missing and no one would be the wiser. He's obviously a pretty important man and all. He might even have security on him. They'd just change the codes."
Stahl shook his head. "There's a lockout code that can be entered into the console. That's in case the White House ever fell into enemy hands. It was designed as a precaution."
"But you're about to exploit it as a weakness."
"It would seem so, yes."
Frank sighed. "Some mission you've got for yourself."
"And now that you've heard it?" Stahl eyed him. Frank could feel his eyes burning into him.
"Now that I've heard it, I don't know if I can let you complete your assignment."
Stahl looked away. "I could make it worth your while."
"A bribe?" Frank almost smiled. "Weren't you just crying poor a minute ago? Now you're offering me cash to look the other way?"
"I won't be poor if I am successful at my job."
"Yeah, and I might well not have a country to call home if you are."
"I told you it's for ransom only."
"And what if this guy decides otherwise? What then? You'd be in no position to have any control over it. Once you give them the codes, he's got everything. Hell, he might even decide to kill you and your son anyway. At that point you're both liabilities."
Frank waited for his words to have some sort of effect on Stahl. They didn't appear to.
"So, you'll just stop me. Is that the case?"
"I can't let you kill that man."
"What if I could do the job without killing him?"
"The end result is the same."
Stahl's jaw tightened. "And what I told you about my son? Did that have no impact on you at all? Are you that cold that you would rather see my son die than see the US have to fork over some of its billions of dollars?"
Frank paused. "I could give you the money for an operation."
"What?"
"Well, how much could it cost? I've got some money stashed away from my years of work. I could give you what you need for an operation for your son."
"And could you also give me enough money to move some place else and set up a new life for me and my son? Could you pay to provide the necessary security we'd need to make sure my client's people never ever find us? Because they would hunt us down to the very ends of the earth they would. And they wouldn't stop coming until both my son and I were dead and buried."
Frank was quiet. "No. I can't."
"Of course you can't." Stahl sighed. "I appreciate the offer, but it's not one I can accept. My destiny seems set right now. I know what I have to do."
Frank looked at him. He could see there was nothing in the German's eyes that hinted even remotely at some sign of hesitation. He was determined to do what he had to save his son.
Could Frank blame him?
No.
Even though the closest thing he'd had to a child was a pregnancy scare back when he was seventeen; Frank knew the pain of seeing a child so sick must have been horrendous.
At the same time, could Frank turn his back and walk away? Could he let Stahl go and wreak the havoc he'd been paid to cause? Sure, it might just be for ransom, but then again, it might not. Frank knew enough and read enough to know that clients often set up their workers. Or they told them just enough to get them to do the job with no questions asked.
This whole gambit could be an excuse to start World War III.
And Frank didn't think he'd be able to live with himself knowing he'd caused it by letting Stahl walk away.
"I wish there was an easier way to see this thing finished."
Stahl smiled. "These are the cards we've been dealt, eh?"
"I'd like a new deck, if that's the case."
Stahl eyed him. "Are we going to be silly and draw weapons in here, squaring off like two fools in Dodge City?"
Frank shook his head. "What's the point? Old man Sam over there has had a gun on us both for the past thirty minutes. He'd waste us if he so much as even thinks either of us is going for a piece."
Stahl glanced over and saw the gnarled face of an old man in a tank T-shirt staring his way. The old man smiled and Stahl could see only two teeth. But the teeth weren't important. The Mossberg shotgun he'd been holding just under the counter came up into view.
And that was important.
Stahl nodded once. "Impressive. And here I thought you weren't even known in a place like this."
"This is my meeting hall. It's neutral ground. With security provided by Sam over there." He grinned. "But don't worry, it's not like this is a one-sided deal. Sam will just as soon shoot me as he will you."
"How odd."
Frank shrugged. "I needed to be able to guarantee the safety of people I sometimes meet here. Knowing that we're both on equal terms is a good thing. Neither side feels like they have to give up anything to sit and talk. What goes on inside this place remains cool. Otherwise we all die."
"So, will Sam let us leave?"
"Oh sure. He's just there to make sur
e neither of us feels like taking any pre-emptive action, is all. If we're done talking, we can simply pay up the bill and leave."
"And once we leave?"
"Soon as we clear the front doors there, as far as Sam's concerned, it's open season on anyone. We're both free to kill each other."
Stahl nodded. "I should get going then."
"Don't insult me by waiting outside, Stahl. Sam's got himself a bunch of ways out of this place. And you can't watch Ôem all."
"I've got some errands to run anyway."
"So this is it, then?" Stahl stood and turned to Frank.
"Like you said: you've got your destiny to follow through to its completion. Regardless of what I say."
"And what about you?"
Frank smiled. "I've got my own destiny, too."
Chapter Thirty
He'd lied.
Frank watched Stahl exit the coffee shop and frowned to himself.
Whatever the German was in town to do, it sure as hell wasn't about stealing the nuclear football. Frank had a tough time believing they wouldn't have a series of checks and safeguards that would have precluded its falling into the wrong hands. They must have known that every two-bit psycho in the world would kill to get their hands on the nuclear launch codes. An while the President was indeed coming to town, Frank thought he knew a cover story when he heard one.
No, it was something else.
He sucked down the remnants of his coffee and tossed a few bucks on the counter along with a sealed envelope containing five hundred bucks for Sam as payment for once again keeping the peace. Sam had come through for him on a number of occasions and Frank never knew when he might need his services again.
He walked outside, not so much concerned about Stahl taking him out. That wasn't his style, it seemed. Stahl would pick his time and place carefully, and more importantly, he'd be focused now on completing his assignment.
On one hand, Frank could understand the driving force behind his desire to see things through. After all, if Frank had a son - he paused and thought about how nice that would be, allowing a smile to cross his face - he might have done the same thing. Frank had always secretly entertained the idea that some day he might find a nice woman and settle down. Maybe they'd raise a few kids.