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She grabbed the remote, muting the TV. “So, you just kill anybody? Kids?”
“Lilith! I’d never kill a kid!”
She raised her hands. “Sorry, I had to ask.”
“Not much hurts my feelings, but that shit did. I ain’t a fucking heartless monster. Am I fucked up? Absolutely, but I ain’t into killing kids. I’d kill any motherfucker who was into it! Kids can’t do shit to deserve death. The motherfuckers I’ve ended are scum, evil people. I know because I always do my research. If I come across someone like you who ain’t got no shit on them, I decline the job. Simple as that.”
“I’ve done evil shit, Ray. I anticipated a woman’s death because I thought she was in the way when she wasn’t.”
I nodded, biting down on my bottom lip. “How many wars have you funded? You backed any genocides? How many wives have you abused? How many elderly people have you attacked? How many Ponzi schemes have you orchestrated that ruined people’s lives? When did you become a cop who killed innocent people for fun? You abused any animals, baby? You abducted any children? That shit is real evil. Those are the motherfuckers I specialize in ridding this planet of both for The Agency and on the side when I do my freelance shit. You are not evil. You don’t deserve this.”
Wiping tears, she weakly said, “Okay. Okay. Just…tell me how this works. Like, how much is my death worth?”
I sighed.
“I need to know.”
Rubbing my forehead, I said, “Fifty-K total. Thirty-five-K goes to the shooter.”
“Shooter?” she squeaked.
I nodded. “The client requested a gun be the mode of…extermination.”
“Wow, and my sister does this, too?”
“Oh, B329 is a damn legend. Her kill count is ridiculous.”
“That’s not comforting,” she told me.
“My bad.”
“I just can’t believe Marlon would pay that kind of money to have me killed. He paid the bills, but he didn’t like spending money like that.”
“He’s been in a financial bind. He gave up a lot in the divorce from what I read. Makes sense he’d be willing to spend fifty grand for a guaranteed seven hundred grand. He’d net over six hundred thousand.”
“Yeah. Is fifty thousand a lot for…you know?”
“That’s the minimum, really. I’ve made millions from one assignment. Granted, the guy was a government official, high level. The price is also higher according to how the client wants the job done, how elaborate they want the death to be.”
“Damn, so…my price is cheap?”
“No. The Agency ain’t a back-alley operation. It’s high end. Cheap is paying a motherfucker a pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and three cigarillos to knock off a nosy neighbor.” Was I really trying to reassure this woman that her assassination price wasn’t on a store brand level? This love shit was wild.
“Oh. So…how many people have you killed?”
“With The Agency? I ain’t telling you that for you to try to leave me or something.”
“Damn, that many?”
“Enough, all warranted.”
“Talbert Penny was the only person you killed outside The Agency?”
“No. Like I mentioned before, I do a little freelancing from time to time.”
“Really? How do people find you outside of The Agency?”
“Damn, is this an interview or something? You gon’ write a tell-all book about your time with the assassin?”
