Page 46 of Assassin Anonymous

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Turns out, Billy’s office had a camera in it, and I guess he saw an opportunity to build some cred. So he posted a clip of him whaling on me, with the message: Getting revenge on the PALE HORSE for killing my dad. I let him live—and I doubt he’ll be coming back.

Which raises a few issues. First, the video very clearly shows my face, which will mobilize a whole lot of people who want to kill me. Worse is the chatter on the discussion boards. Some people assume it’s not true; no way would the Pale Horse take a beating from some kid and let him live.

But if he did, they say, he must not be as tough as the stories said.

I knew there’d be a price for that boat ride. Didn’t know it’d be this.

Astrid asks: “Grosse Pointe Blank?”

“Huh?”

“What about Grosse Pointe Blank?”

“Oh.” Snapped out of my funk, I toss my second emptied Americano into a bin. “Never saw that one.”

“Really? It’s a classic.”

She knows about the video. I made it clear it wasn’t a topic for discussion. If this is her way of taking my mind off it, fine. “I don’t buy John Cusack as a hitman,” I tell her.

She nods slowly, thinking. “Okay…Collateral.”

“That the one with Tom Cruise?”

Astrid nods.

“I buy Tom Cruise as a killer, definitely. But kidnapping a cabdriver and icing him at the end of the night? Needlessly cruel. Cabdriver’s not in the game.”

“How about The Professional?”

“That’s a good one. Jean Reno is great. But it has to be the international cut, not the American one. American one lost twenty-four minutes of footage.”

“Because of all the creepy Natalie Portman stuff?”

“Yep, but it’s the best depiction I’ve seen of the assassin’s life.” The thing I don’t want to say is that what resonated most with me was Reno’s quiet sadness and loneliness.

“In Bruges?” she asks.

“Really funny. Brendan Gleeson, man. I’ll watch him in anything.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”

“Saw it. Don’t remember anything about it.”

“And we’ve established you don’t like the John Wick movies?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like them. I said they were fantasy. Keanu Reeves is a national treasure. But people stabbing each other in Grand Central during rush hour and no one notices? C’mon.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“I like Joubert. The assassin in Three Days of the Condor. He was a pro.”

“Okay, but that’s a thriller. I mean a favorite hitman movie.”

“Le Samouraï.”

She nods, takes a long sip of her tea. “Never seen it.”

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