And there it is, a name. Gus. Progress is now being made. A tiny piece of the puzzle now solved. Even if it is the most insignificant piece.
“I’m Leon parker,” I said with a slight sense of hesitation. I looked deep into his eyes, I wanted to dig deeper, I wanted to know who he was. But the emotional eyes that welled up minutes before were no longer the same ones I looked at now. The ones I gazed into now held no emotion, no window to the soul, but simply a mirror reflecting my image.
“Hmm,” he looked me up and down, searching my body with his eyes.
“Do you have a last name, Gus?”
“I find last names to be rather unnecessary.”
“Well Gus, where are we?”
“That’s a brilliant question Leon, truly, a question deserving of an answer equal in brilliance. But none the less, a question I cannot answer.” He was extremely well spoken and spoke only in sarcastic tones. He had this calm and collected manner about him that both soothed and agitated me and seemed to hold some sort of grievance against me.
“Can you tell me why we’re here then?”
“Oh now that I can answer, we’re here because of you.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes Leon, because of you. You see, you interfered with something very delicate. Personal affairs which you made not so personal. Leon, I kill people. That’s how I make my money, that’s how I buy my bread. People pay me, and I take care of their issues. Now when you found your way to me and decided to become a pest, I was on a job for someone very dangerous. He who shall not be named, the maestro of death, the conductor of doom. Might you have heard of him?” I had, everyone had, it was the name that ran the world, not many had seen him, but there wasn’t a soul in the west whose body didn’t shiver when they heard that name. It echoed in the mind for a while. Hank Galloway. What was I wrapped up in?
“What did I do?”