Chapter 3:

"So." The only word uttered by the stranger with whom I was now having a stare-down contest has a lot of meaning behind it. Flat Top, as I've decided to call him, could have just as well asked me the meaning of life. I have no response to that, so I don't respond. He cocks his head slightly to the left. "I asked you a question."

Now, my smart ass takes over. "Actually, 'So' is a one word statement." His eyes narrow dangerously. I suppose that he isn't spoken to so crassly very often. He doesn't seem to like it much.

He says as much with the next statement. "Don't let that little display of yours a few seconds ago allow you to think that I'm intimidated. And don't let bravado override brains. It'll getcha hurt." The hand-cannon twitches as if in response. I think I'll heed the advice.

"Word is that a bit of teaching work is to be had here. I was hoping that you'd consider my 'little display' to be proof that I can teach a lesson, and we could skip ahead to the part where you explain the job to me, tell me how much I'm to be compensated, and I go looking for my pupil." I cock my head to my right, mirroring his attitude. "However, if you have more questions..."

I let the last comment trail off. His hint that it's his turn to speak. He doesn't speak, just turns on his heels and starts walking up the stairs. He pauses and indicates that I should follow with a nod of his head.

Back outside the house, a shiny red Ferrari sits idling. Two thoughts strike me at once from this picture: One, anyone who drives a shiny red Ferrari has too much money (and is probably compensating for some "short"coming). Two, anyone who'd leave it just idling in this neighborhood is definitely not someone with whom to make comments about compensating. Apparently people around here know better than to mess with this guy. Something to remember.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his car keys. A couple of clicks on the remote open both doors. When did he put his gun away? I've been watching him like a hawk, and I didn't catch that. Something else to remember. He's slick. That's alright. I'll just keep mine out. I really don't trust slick people.

I don't ask, I just climb in to the passenger seat. He settles in behind the wheel and we close the doors. I'm going for a ride now.

A short while later, we arrive at a small, nondescript restaurant. Climbing out of the car, I'm impressed by the sight of it. It's not that easy to impress me. Every detail of this place more or less exactly fails to please the eye. Suppressing a grin, I fight off the urge to hum the theme song to 'The Godfather' as we reach the door.

"You should put that away now. We have you under sights from a dozen directions at all times. It wouldn't do you any good anyway. You should know that Jack, the strong arm you busted up, is a moron. I'm having him 'retired' tonight. You get accepted for this, and you'll face a lot better." He grins at me, and I notice that his grin makes me think of a cat about to get to play with a mouse. "Hey. Can't be all that easy, or everyone would be in this line of work."

The door opens, seemingly of its own accord. Flat Top walks in. Tucking the SiG into my belt in the small of my back, I mentally remind myself to get a holster at my first opportunity. And a few more guns. I get the feeling that I'll need 'em.

"I trust Barnabas didn't frighten you too much with his maniacal driving?" The voice came from about 20 feet ahead of us, at a corner table that was situated so that no one could approach unnoticed. Nicely done. The sharp intake of breath between gritted teeth came from Flat Top to my left. Hmm. I'm learning lots and lots this evening. Barnabas hates his name.

As I file that nugget away, the voice says "Too bad about Jack. He's been with us a long time. Too long, apparently. You took him down about five seconds after you came to. Not bad. You also managed to nail Barnabas while turning. We're interested in what you may have to offer." I turn my head toward Flat Top.

"You're wearing a wire." The accusation is out before I can stop myself.

Barnabas smiles again. "I thought you were pretty quick. We also have every place we own wired for video. Not smart to have one of the organization taken down and leave the rest of us to wonder what the hell happened. We all wear one. At all times."

I've had enough surprises for one evening.

"I'm not so sure that I want to work with a group that doesn't trust its members. I sure as hell wouldn't wear a wire. You're gonna have to show me that taking a job for you is worth my time and the risk. Then, I'll need to be supplied ... IF I accept the assignment."

The body attached to the head that owns the voice rolls in silent laughter. "It has been some time since anyone has had the brass to speak to me in such a manner. Yes, indeed. My boy, you seem to have a large pair." His voice takes on a more menacing tone. "We'll know soon if you have the skills to back it up. IF we accept you, we'll outfit you for the job and you'll be very well compensated. IF you survive the test. Barnabas, show our young prospect to the guest room."

He nods and motions for me to follow. He holds his silence until we approach what I assume to be the guest accommodations. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day for you."