Tim held out his hands, "he takes them."

This last statement struck Tony as odd. He was becoming less and less fearful of Second Guy now, and he felt the strength returning to his body and mind. He chanced a furtive glance at Second Guy, who stood at ease, glowering back at him.

"You mean-what? He kills them?" Tony directed at Tim.

"Yes, he does that," Tim allowed. "All of that."

"He kills them," Tony repeated. "You don't sound so sure right now."

Tim hesitated. "Yes," he said, sounding weak. "Yes, he kills them. He is what you say, a professional."

"So he's a hit man?"

"Yes. A hit man. A raw realer," Tim said as if for the first time. "A whacker. A man in black. He finds people, and he cleans their clocks. Puts a ... cap ... in their a.s.ses."

Tony rubbed his face in thought. He needed a shave. "So, you're looking for a guy who will find this. .h.i.t man for you? Why?"

Tim's almond eyes caught him again and did not move. Greyness, like a winter mist in March, p.r.i.c.ked with blackness. "We need him back. No one is doing his job right now. There is a lot of work backed up, and no one can do his... thing."

"You mean hits?" Tony felt as if he were supplying the words in this conversation. He didn't like that. It felt phony to him.

Tim nodded. "Yes, hits. Contracts. He hasn't been working recently, and we want to know why. We must know why. But first we need to find the man. And that's where you come into the picture. He must be found as soon as possible and returned to us or, at the very least, contact us when you find him, and we will come for him."

"So, you don't need this guy dead? I don't have to kill anyone. I don't do that, y'know."

A smile stretched across Tim's face and he gently shook his head. "No. You wouldn't kill him. Only find him. It's all we require of you. Only find him and let us know. Bring him to us, or we'll come to you."

You wouldn't kill him. Tony didn't hear a challenge in there. Just a bright-as-day truth. "Just find the guy."

Tim nodded.

"No rough stuff?"

Tim appeared uncertain. "Rough stuff?" he repeated.

"Yeah. You don't need him having anything broken as a lesson?"

"You mean a.s.saulted?"

"Yeah, whatever, a.s.saulted, straightened out, f.u.c.ked up."

Again Tim smiled. "Really, I don't think...." and he trailed off. "No. Nothing like that. Defend yourself if need be, of course."

"Of course," Tony agreed. f.u.c.kin right I'll defend myself.

Tim's smile disappeared. "Mr. Levin, the man we want you to find is extremely dangerous. Extremely dangerous. He is the taker of life the likes I have never seen before nor do I expect ever to see again. I could tell you tales around a campfire that would make your eyes explode out of your head. He is... Death himself. Do not under any circ.u.mstances fight him. He is dangerousmuch more than even my a.s.sociate here-and if he discovers you are afoot, there is a very good chance he will make you regret it."

"He's that bad, huh?"

"Very bad. I can't put into words how bad."

"Badder than freak boy over there?"

"Much badder," Tim said in a serious tone. Second Guy shifted where he stood.

"That must p.i.s.s you off," Tony said abruptly to Second Guy. "Knowing that there's a guy out there who could take your a.s.s."

Second Guys' eyes became slits. His shoulders tensed.

"f.u.c.k," Tony went on, liking the reaction and feeling p.i.s.sy. "I'd bring the guy back for free if I could see that. I'd enjoy seein' your white a.s.s getting stomped on. Your hit man could take this chump right?"

Tim's mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Well," Tony wanted to know. "He could, right? Don't feel bad if you embarra.s.s your temple slave here. You can talk about it back in the car or truck or however the h.e.l.l you two got here."

"I suppose," Tim admitted uncertainly. Second Guy's eyes flashed with insult.

"I have it now," Tony went on, "Mr. d.i.c.k here is quite the lad at scarin' the s.h.i.t outta people, but he doesn't have a clue how to take care of any other business."

"Actually, he can." Tim found his voice and began defending his companion, "but we prefer not to. Fred here,"

"Fred," Tony repeated, a smile on his face. Tim froze as if he said something inappropriate.

"Tim and Fred are in my home this morning," Tony declared, not saying anything about how totally fake these names sounded. He pointed two fingers at Fred, causing the man to tense up again.

"Why don't you say something there, boy? You can't talk or something?" He then shifted targets and directed his next question at Tim, "How much?"

"Five thousand dollars."

Tony liked that number. "When do you need him?"

"As soon as possible."

"Does the man have a family?"

"No. He's all alone."

"That's too bad," Tony said and meant it. That obvious lead was scratched. "Where's he from?"

"Nowhere." Tim answered him with that same stare again.

"Nowhere?" Tony repeated.

Tim nodded.

"Well, how do you get in contact with him?"

"Cell phone," Tim answered.

"You contact your gun for hire by cell phone?" Tony rolled his eyes in disbelief. "f.u.c.k man, anyone could be listening in!"

"We talk in code," Tim a.s.sured him, but Tony could tell by the man's face that he wasn't so certain.

"Well, that sounds like fun," Tony scathed. "Ever have any screw ups? You know, popped the wrong guy?"

That made Tim pause. "No. Not really."

"Why don't you call him on the phone now then?"

"He doesn't answer anymore."

"Does he have any enemies? Maybe a contract was taken out?"

"Possible," Tim acknowledged.

"Do you think?"

"No."

Tony pointed a finger at the man across from him. "Don't play around like that," he warned. It was hard enough to think as it was. "There's no one out there that would want to put old Augustus into the dirt?"

"Anyone who might have is, well, dead," Tim said honestly.

The admission made Tony hesitate. "What?"

"He's extremely effective, you see. A hundred percent kill ratio. n.o.body has escaped him really. He waits until the time is absolutely perfect and then, well... I can't explain it much more than that, really. In fact, I hesitate in sending people after the man at all."

"Hold on, what do you mean 'people?'"

"You aren't the only one."

"How many more people?"

"That isn't really important, Mr. Levin. I will say my particular organization is world-wide. We have operatives everywhere that are currently engaged in this hunt. At least one for every major city. We like to employ the local talent when we can. But keep that to yourself. Cla.s.sified, you see. Just be clear that we are utilizing every means available to find Mr. Franklin. He is one of us, and as a result, he is proving very skilled in disappearing."

"Where have you looked?"

"Everywhere."

"You can't have looked everywhere, Tim. You ain't found the man yet. You ain't looking in the right places. Or you are, but it's at the wrong time."

"Possibly," Tim admitted. "But time is running out. He must be located. And very, very soon. Mr. Fred?"

Fred straightened, holding his mitten covered hands in front of him.

"Would you find me something to drink, please? Something cold? Not milk though," then he spoke to Tony with an uncharacteristic wink. "I'm lactose intolerant, you see."

Fred went to the kitchen without a word and began moving things about. It was clear that Tim was the chief here and old, freak-a.s.sed Fred was the muscle.

"There's apple juice in the fridge," Tony called out.

Tim's face brightened. "That would be fine."

While they waited for the drink to arrive, Tony looked about his apartment and saw the little yellow clock on top of his little TV. The glow-in-the-dark hands pointed out that it was still 5:44. Tony thought about that for a moment and decided that the batteries must have died.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much more about your quarry, Mr. Levin. He drives a black jeep though. Of that I'm positive."

"A jeep?"

"I hear it's good in the winter."

Fear returned with a coffee mug of apple juice. Tim took it with a gracious nod. He sniffed at the drink before tasting it. Then he fished inside a pocket on his winter coat and hauled out a j.a.panese Nokia cell phone. It was black and looked like an old Star Trek phaser. He offered it to Tony.

"If you press the number key and then 00, you have his number. If you press the number key and then 01, you will ring me. Understood?"

"No trouble," Tony said, taking the phone.

"Contact us when you find him. If I don't hear from you in three days, I will a.s.sume something has happened to you, and I'll have to recruit more agents. Understood?"

Tony nodded. "Why should anything happen to me?"

Tim's almond eyes peered at him over the rim of the coffee mug. "I don't know, Mr. Levin. But you are going after a very dangerous individual. And... we have lost contact with other agents working for us. And we suspect Mr. Franklin does not want to be found. He may have silenced agents getting close to him, but we aren't positive of that. In any case, some very good people have gone missing, and we don't know why."

"Maybe they weren't that good?" Tony said.

"Their reputations are as good as yours," Tim said, his voice rising slightly in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Regardless, find him as soon as you can."

"But you have no leads," Tony said. "So, I hope you don't expect me to pull a f.u.c.king rabbit outta my a.s.s here. What do I have to work with here? A black jeep? A cell phone? I mean, don't you have a picture or something? What does his guy look like anyway?"

The mug went up as Tim finished his drink. He carefully placed it on the edge of the coffee table. He took a shallow breath, then looked past Tony and exhaled with a long, weary sigh.

"We don't know."

"You don't f.u.c.king know?"

"We never saw his face," Tim said weakly.

"You don't know," Tony repeated, not believing the lack of material he was going to be working with.

"It was never our way to meet face to face you understand," Tim explained patiently but in a guilty voice. "It was safer to keep our ident.i.ties unknown in case something happened that could endanger the network."

"Well, s.h.i.t! I hope you have cash now," Tony said, shaking his head, "It's gonna take some cash to start digging out information on this guy. I have no address, no family, no picture. I have a phone number and a f.u.c.king black jeep that's good in the winter."

"He told me that," Tim said quietly, "while on the phone once."

"I have squat," Tony exhaled.

"You have my grat.i.tude," Tim informed him in a gracious sounding voice. But Tony kept his less than gracious feelings to himself.