Post by Shamino Warhen Ph.D on Mar 21, 2008 2:52:32 GMT 1
"The manager's doing great." Alex said with a broad smile.
"Excellent. And it's good to see you again, Alex." Shamino said. His fingers went through B, F, A, and D chords on the SG, unplugged, warming up his hands in his desk chair. "Looks like I can just sit back and count my cash eh?"
"I suppose so. The renovations really spiced up the place." Alex commented, sitting in the chair opposite of Shamino. "But... Listen." Alex leaned forward. "This place bugged?"
"No." Shamino said, his voice taking a far more serious tone. "Go ahead, talk."
"There's some competition in town." Alex said, removing a pack of Export 'A' cigarettes and removing two of them from the pack. "Picked up some Canadians, wanna try?"
"I said i'd quit, but... Meh, I don't wanna. Pass one up." Shamino replied, gesturing with his hand and taking one, setting the SG down on its stand and lighting it with an old Ronson table top lighter. "Not bad for white paper." He responded. "Competition, go on."
"Most contracts that come into town, I filter to you." Alex said, referencing to the briefcase behind Shamino, that sat standing up on a small dresser. "Of course, you're officially out of the business..."
"Officially." Shamino said. "I'm a man of peace- I'm done killing."
There was a brief silence, and through inhaled smoke, the two men laughed briefly and quietly. "Yes, they go to me just in case... But the Italians or the surviving triads take care of them. There's no more private contractors in San Fran anymore."
"Well, that's what I thought." Alex said, removing a pocket ashtray and flicking ash into it, placing it on the desk and placing his feet up close beside it. His jacket opened slightly to show a black, oxidized Beretta from a chest holster. "But it turns out some young stud's coming into the fold. All I got is a first name- Trent."
"And?"
"Well..." Alex continued. "He's hitting pretty close to home."
"Go on." Shamino said, taking a deep, deep drag- exhaling through his nose. He ashed before the ashes could fall onto his dress shirt.
"Well, by coincidence, I suppose, he took out a guy my cousin was involved in- a bit of an affair, I must admit, but romantic nonetheless..." The tall man placed his feet back on the floor, and leaned forward in again, blowing smoke through clenched teeth. "A contract I didn't see."
"A contract... You... Didn't see." Shamino quirked a blond brow, snuffing the cigarette at the quarter point. "Is that possible?" He asked, removing a Djarum Black from an open cigarette case on the table, lighting it with a slam of the table lighter, and taking a light inhalation.
"Entirely, I must admit. I'm not in with the Yakuza, for instance, who is placing contracts on business owners shoreside so they can move in legitimate businesses. But this 'Trent' doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd take something like that. The name alone... I have a feeling he's domesticated."
"Domesticated." Shamino exhaled, nodding lightly. "Not a professional."
"He certainly didn't kill any political figures for the EU." Alex nodded. "By the way, they sent over a letter---"
"The answer's no." Shamino said curtly, nodding. "Go on."
"Right, well... Yeah. Amateur. I'm working on a last name- there's a guy in the hotel downstairs, for instance, heard him mention the name over the phone. I think he's on a line with someone who's working private contracts."
"Well, what if this kid doesn't have a contractor? Maybe he's just one of those kids who sends letters to his senator or mayor saying he can take care of things quietly? They exist- you know. And new politicians are willing to do anything to make someone vanish." Shamino tapped some clove and tobacco ash into his ash tray, laughing. "I got a contract to kill Obama, last week."
"Oh yeah?" Alex replied rhetorically, chuckling. "How much?"
"Not enough to kill that gangster." Shamino waved it off, blowing a smoke ring into the air. "I like him. If I paid taxes and voted, he'd certainly get mine." He ended his chuckle, typing one handed into the laptop set up in front of him. "Thanks Alex- gather up what you can and drop me a line. I'll take care of him."
He looked up from the laptop screen, which reflected a text document off of his glasses. "Personally."
"Excellent. And it's good to see you again, Alex." Shamino said. His fingers went through B, F, A, and D chords on the SG, unplugged, warming up his hands in his desk chair. "Looks like I can just sit back and count my cash eh?"
"I suppose so. The renovations really spiced up the place." Alex commented, sitting in the chair opposite of Shamino. "But... Listen." Alex leaned forward. "This place bugged?"
"No." Shamino said, his voice taking a far more serious tone. "Go ahead, talk."
"There's some competition in town." Alex said, removing a pack of Export 'A' cigarettes and removing two of them from the pack. "Picked up some Canadians, wanna try?"
"I said i'd quit, but... Meh, I don't wanna. Pass one up." Shamino replied, gesturing with his hand and taking one, setting the SG down on its stand and lighting it with an old Ronson table top lighter. "Not bad for white paper." He responded. "Competition, go on."
"Most contracts that come into town, I filter to you." Alex said, referencing to the briefcase behind Shamino, that sat standing up on a small dresser. "Of course, you're officially out of the business..."
"Officially." Shamino said. "I'm a man of peace- I'm done killing."
There was a brief silence, and through inhaled smoke, the two men laughed briefly and quietly. "Yes, they go to me just in case... But the Italians or the surviving triads take care of them. There's no more private contractors in San Fran anymore."
"Well, that's what I thought." Alex said, removing a pocket ashtray and flicking ash into it, placing it on the desk and placing his feet up close beside it. His jacket opened slightly to show a black, oxidized Beretta from a chest holster. "But it turns out some young stud's coming into the fold. All I got is a first name- Trent."
"And?"
"Well..." Alex continued. "He's hitting pretty close to home."
"Go on." Shamino said, taking a deep, deep drag- exhaling through his nose. He ashed before the ashes could fall onto his dress shirt.
"Well, by coincidence, I suppose, he took out a guy my cousin was involved in- a bit of an affair, I must admit, but romantic nonetheless..." The tall man placed his feet back on the floor, and leaned forward in again, blowing smoke through clenched teeth. "A contract I didn't see."
"A contract... You... Didn't see." Shamino quirked a blond brow, snuffing the cigarette at the quarter point. "Is that possible?" He asked, removing a Djarum Black from an open cigarette case on the table, lighting it with a slam of the table lighter, and taking a light inhalation.
"Entirely, I must admit. I'm not in with the Yakuza, for instance, who is placing contracts on business owners shoreside so they can move in legitimate businesses. But this 'Trent' doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd take something like that. The name alone... I have a feeling he's domesticated."
"Domesticated." Shamino exhaled, nodding lightly. "Not a professional."
"He certainly didn't kill any political figures for the EU." Alex nodded. "By the way, they sent over a letter---"
"The answer's no." Shamino said curtly, nodding. "Go on."
"Right, well... Yeah. Amateur. I'm working on a last name- there's a guy in the hotel downstairs, for instance, heard him mention the name over the phone. I think he's on a line with someone who's working private contracts."
"Well, what if this kid doesn't have a contractor? Maybe he's just one of those kids who sends letters to his senator or mayor saying he can take care of things quietly? They exist- you know. And new politicians are willing to do anything to make someone vanish." Shamino tapped some clove and tobacco ash into his ash tray, laughing. "I got a contract to kill Obama, last week."
"Oh yeah?" Alex replied rhetorically, chuckling. "How much?"
"Not enough to kill that gangster." Shamino waved it off, blowing a smoke ring into the air. "I like him. If I paid taxes and voted, he'd certainly get mine." He ended his chuckle, typing one handed into the laptop set up in front of him. "Thanks Alex- gather up what you can and drop me a line. I'll take care of him."
He looked up from the laptop screen, which reflected a text document off of his glasses. "Personally."