Mr. Smith sat at ease on the patio of one of his favorite restaurants in the Old Quarter of New Orleans.  It was rather subdued today after the blowout of Mardi Gras and the waiters had a Lenten air with none of their normal panache.  His cell phone rang and he pulled it out with a slight frown.  He hadn’t expected any calls since he’d decided to take a vacation from business.

“Hello?”

“A hit has been ordered by Mr. King.”  The mechanical voice gave no hint of who was speaking.  The click after the short sentence forestalled any answer on his part.

He put the phone back into his pocket and wondered if he had time to finish lunch before going back to work.  The arrival of his shrimp decided him.  Who knew when he could next enjoy fresh shrimp Creole?  Whipping out his napkin, he settled in to decimate his meal.  With a wall at his back and no second story overlooking the patio, he felt safe enough to eat and muse over his previous client.

It had always been a fifty/fifty proposition, working for the reclusive billionaire.  King didn’t tolerate failure but since he hadn’t failed him, Smith’s busy brain searched for a reason behind the hit.  If there really was one.  Someone might be trying to drive a wedge between him and his former client.  He finished his meal with an iced raspberry sorbet, enjoying the cool slide of the creamy dessert down his throat.

With a quiet smile for his waiter, he left a moderate tip on the table and left through the front entrance.  If someone had set him up for a kill, they would be expecting him to leave through the garden at the back.  He’d set that pattern early in his career and on the three occasions he’d not left that way, he’d made sure that the assassins didn’t have a chance to tell anyone about it.

He enjoyed the walk through the crowded streets but it was good to get out of the humid heat and into the cool foyer of his pensione.  Nodding to the manager behind the front counter, he took the stairs to his room and the privacy of his balcony.  Flipping open his cell phone, he dialed the number of an information broker he used regularly.

“Benson, I’ve heard that a hit has been placed on me.”  He didn’t bother to say his name since the man should by now know his voice even over the burst of static.

“Yes.  Mr. King has decided to dispense with your services.”  The voice was a bit hoarse and the sneeze that exploded partly into the phone made Smith smile.

“Bless you and thanks.”  Clicking off, he sat back and pondered how to go about reclaiming his life.  Moon Base should be history by now so he’d have to act quickly to catch the man before he took up residence there.

Keying in another number, he waited for his contact in the King household to answer.  He was ready to hang up after eight rings but a breathless voice answered just before he could click.  “Miss Enderby, that situation we spoke of has finally happened.”

She gasped and poured out the news about Moon Base into his fascinated ear.  He let her talk on before bringing her up short with a soft command.  “Thank you for the news, I didn’t know.  However, it makes my need even more urgent.  Can you tell me where he is right now?”

He listened patiently while she told him of the last two days.  One piece of news did spark his interest and he questioned her closely before easing his way gently out of the conversation.  With a promise to call her soon, he hung up and began to plan the negating of his contract with Mr. King.

Termination was so rarely enjoyable.

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End chapter 40