The Contract

The Man in the Black Suit

The Contract

Jameson chided himself for the loss of control.  Revealing frustration was unprofessional.

"My reasons for turning down the initial contract are irrelevant.  But I will explain my motivation in coming to you.

"My profession isn't far removed from others.  Connections and bylines are essential in any business.  Big names get big jobs, because their reputations are bankable.  Costumers, you understand, generally pay for the brand over the service."

"Well, your customer courtesy leaves something to be desired."

Aprill had lost the last shreds of professionalism.  Jameson shrugged off her comment.

"I've been working small jobs.  Enough for a living, but I could expand.  High profile cases such as your situation are a good basis on which to construct a reputation."

The distant wailing of police sirens touched their ears.  Jameson stood.

“I will be leaving now.  Provide a reason that your bodyguard wasn’t able to give the police his statement.  The contract I intend to carry out for you involves more than just immobilizing that assassin.  If you hire me, I will track down the persons responsible for this attempt, and I will neutralize them in such a way that no one will ever touch you again, and my services will become instantly associated with quality and professionalism.  After that, I will be able to choose the jobs I desire rather than scrabbling for whatever work I can find.  I’ve been waiting for an opportunity such as this.”

He handed a slip of paper to Benedict, then left the room.

Benedict looked at the paper and massaged his forehead tiredly.  “It’s a mess,” he muttered.

“What’d he give you?”  Aprill demanded.

“A way to contact him.”

“Well?  Are you going to do it?”

A desperate idea suddenly crept into Benedict’s mind.  He was a rat running circles in a maze he’d assumed to be escapeless.  But the rat had just discovered one last alley, and he was scurrying down it for all he was worth, hoping it was an exit he was headed towards and not another dead end.

Benedict dialed his mobile, ignoring Aprill.  He waited, anxiously.

“Rook?  Hi.  Yes, a man just tried to take my life, and . . . yes, yes, I’m fine . . . I need you to find out what you can about the man who saved me.  No, you heard me right.  No, not my attacker; the man who stopped the assassin.  He said his name was Jameson.  You can probably find some visuals on the security cameras.  Find out what you can about him.  Yes, that’s right.  And Rook?  I need to know where he’s staying in Dresden.”