Man's Take Magazine

Fiction: Interview with a Hitman [Part 1]

Interview with a Hitman – Part One
by Jacob James McAndrew

The dark haired woman shifted a little in her seat before making eye contact with the dark clad man seated directly in front of her.

“First of all, I really want to thank you for agreeing to do this interview. It means a lot to me. I assure you I’ll keep any identifying details 100% confidential.”

The slim man gave a slight nod. “No problem. I like getting my feelings out in the open actually. But there is one thing before we begin.”

The woman lifted her head in anticipation. She tried to remain as calm as possible, but she was more nervous than right before she sang in the eighth grade talent show. But if she ever wanted to be an anchorwoman for the 5pm news, she’d have to get over stage fright and other forms of fear. This was closer to terror than simple stage fright, but she hoped she was concealing it well.

“Darlene, I must ask that there are no recording devices operating. None whatsoever. Is that agreeable?”

“Oh, yes!” she blurted out. “Here…” she fumbled in her purse for a moment. A tube of lip gloss spilled out and smacked into the tile floor. She kept digging until she reached her goal. “Here we go. This is my only recorder. You’ll see it’s off. You can check it.”

The man eyed her askew and made a twirling motion with his finger. She spun the recorder around in front of him and he nodded. “One moment,” he said with a polite smile. He fished a black object of his pocket that looked like a large cell phone or PDA. He pressed a few buttons and then slid it back into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Ok, sorry about that. Fire away.” The man said as he sat back in his chair comfortably.

“Alright. No problem. I understand. Could you tell me what you do? In your own terms. What’s your occupation?”

“To be honest, I don’t really have a term for it. I eliminate certain threats. That’s about it.”

“Threats?”

“Sure… you know, people who cause other people trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Oh, all sorts.”

She gave him a disappointed frown at his vague answer.

“I’m really not trying to be defensive or dodge the question. But every situation is different. Sometimes it’s a romantic thing. An affair or an easy way out of a marriage. Other times it’s political, or business related. Direct monetary consequences are quite typical.”

“So no topics are off limits?”

“Not really. I get them all.. sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll!”

“How do you choose your targets?”

“They choose me. Or rather, someone chooses them for me.”

“So you work for some sort agency?”

The man shrugged. “Not really. I work for the client with the most money.”

“So how do these clients make arrangements with you?”

“Now we’re getting into details I’m not comfortable with. But I will tell you that they don’t… ever. I never make arrangements or plans with anyone. All assignments are made with my booker. Handling that sort of thing personally is not good for business, or for my future.”

“That makes sense. Do you know who you’re working for at any given time?”

“Rarely. Occasionally there will be some sort of message to be delivered or other part of the assignment that will reveal the employer, or at least who the respective client is supposed to think is the employer.”

“So do you work alone? Aside from your booker, I mean.”

“Let’s say I’m independent. But… I have lots of friends. Those friends keep me out of trouble.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean if something were to happen to me, there would be hell to pay.” His pleasant smile turned into a devious grin, and then quickly faded back to his pleasant demeanor. “Likewise, if something happened to one of my friends, I’d be there for him.”

“Are all your friends men?”

The man was silent for a minute. He looked at the reporter with a blank stare. Finally he replied, “No.”

The reporter didn’t seem to know what to make of the answer, but she decided not to press the issue. She ran a hand through her long black hair and cupped the back of her head as she slid her hand down her neck. As she did this, she suddenly realized how tense she was. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but she thought she was hiding it well.

As Darlene looked up from her notepad she caught the keen gray eyes of her interview subject. They were locked onto her, clearly not missing the slightest movement she made.

Before she could open her mouth, he said, “May I ask you some questions? Quid pro quo and all…”

She hesitated and then said, “Ok. But I’m not sure what you’d get out of asking me questions…”

He let out a tiny snort of a laugh. “Do you think I’m uninterested in people and their lives? On the contrary, I’m quite interested in dealings with people.”

“Isn’t that difficult in your line of work? To have emotional attachments to people?”

“No, it’s not. Not for me at least. For some people it is. But… I thought I was going to ask you some questions.”

“Ok, be my guest.”

“So it’s Darlene Shumaker, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you married?” He glanced at the massive diamond on her left ring finger.”

“Yes, I am. No kids yet.”

“How often do you go to the gym?”

“What?” She was surprised by the question. Then she laughed a little. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered by that question or not…”

“Oh, you should. My guess is every weekday, around… oh… 6:30am.”

She laughed again. “You’re good. More like 6 though.”

“So Darlene, what do you do at the gym? Run on the treadmill?”

“Wrong on that one. I was starting to think you were stalking me.” She gave him a wink. “I don’t like treadmills. I go to a Yoga class, and sometimes a spinning class.”

“Spinning? Is that where you ride bikes in a small room pretending you’re riding outside, instead of actually riding outside?”

“Something like that. It’s quite a challenge. You should try it sometime.”

“Hmm. I think I’ll stick to the outdoors. But it clearly works for you.” He gave her an appraising glance up and down. She was wearing a very professional looking blue skirt, blue stockings, and a white blouse that was unfortunately buttoned to her neck, with a well-fitted red jacket over it.

He was surprised when she blushed a little. “Thank you Jack. Can I call you Jack?”

“Of course. So tell me where you want to go…”

“Where I want to go? What do you mean…”

“Your job… where do you want to be in five years?”

“Oh. Well…” She hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a suitable answer. Finally she decided there was no reason to avoid the truth. “I’d like to be an anchorwoman at Channel 11. Evening news, if I had my choice.”

“Really. Well you’ve got the look for it. Attractive, but classy. Sultry voice. Calm demeanor, even when you’re as nervous as a prom date in a cheap motel room.”

She couldn’t help but blush even more. “Why thank you Jack. I’m glad to have your support. I hope you’ll be a loyal viewer.”

“Definitely. One more question for you, then you can go back to our regularly scheduled program.”

“Ok.” Darlene said, almost breathless now. Her anxiety had mostly subsided, but now she felt something else. Exhilaration maybe? That seemed ridiculous. She was over thirty years old and had heard every come on in the book. There was no magic here, but for some reason she felt like sweat was about to break out on her forehead at any moment.

“Tell me about your biggest win. The best story you ever wrote, or the best assignment you’ve had.  What’s your big success story?”

“Is this a job interview? Why are you so interested in me Jack?”

“Why not? You’re here. I’m here… Why not get to know each other instead of having a one-way inquisition? Besides, I think your piece on me will turn out better this way.”

She shrugged. “Ok. Well, I guess what I’m best known for is the story I did on Brandon Thorpe. I found out about some highly questionable business transactions he’d been a part of. It made the front page. He was actually indicted on several charges after that story ran.”

“Did you feel good about it?”

“Yeah, absolutely. The guy had already announced he was running for mayor. And he was suave, you know? He was going to blow Mason out of the water. The timing was coincidental, but I think it was for the best.”

“Hmm.” Jack said. He studied his feet for a second, then looked up with another question ready.

“Let’s get back to you.” Darlene said before he could open his mouth. “If you meet a girl in a bar and she asks about your occupation, what do you tell her?”

He grinned. “It depends on what she looks like.”

“Seriously. Let’s assume your interested.”

“Ok, let’s say I meet you in a bar… I would tell you I’m a bail bondsman and bounty hunter. I search out criminals and lock them up”

“Hmm.”

“It’s actually the truth. I do some work for bounty hunters and bail bondsman, though it’s mostly for cover. I am a licensed private investigator and bail bondsman in several states.”

“Interesting. Do you ever have nightmares about your… subjects? Not the criminals you hunt, but the other people.”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Never?”

“There was a time, yes. I was just a kid off the streets, you know? I had it pretty tough. I was walking through this alley like an idiot. Me and my girlfriend at the time. I was around 16 or so. She was a little tramp, but she was my kind of tramp.

“Anyway, we walked into this alley and two guys lunge at us. One of them rushes her and slams her into the brick wall. The other guy tucks his shoulder and smashes into me like a goddamn linebacker. He put me right on my ass. Then he laughed in my face.

“So while I’m sitting on the pavement wondering what the hell is going on, the other guy picks up this branch lying by the curb. It was a pretty big thing, still had leaves on it. He swings this thing… I still remember the swish sound it made as the leaves cut through the air…

“He whacks my girl right in the face and both of the guys start laughing. I don’t know what the hell these guys were on, but I was enraged.”

This story by Jacob James McAndrew continues in Part Two of Interview with a Hitman.

Related posts:

1. Part Two: Interview with a Hitman
2. Part Three: Interview with a Hitman
3. Fiction: Steel Echoes

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