Page 28 of Assassin Anonymous

I consider my box breathing, but even that feels too vulnerable.

“I skipped breakfast that morning,” I tell him. “I’m still good enough to subdue two men in a crowded place without being noticed. Still good enough to find you in a country of five million people two hours after stepping off a plane. Has there been any chatter about anything related to me? Any reason someone might come for me?”

He sits backs, picks up his fork, and resumes eating. “Not that I’ve heard. Now, I’m sure as you can imagine, I told the Director that we made contact—”

“Snitch.”

He arches an eyebrow. I put my hand up for him to keep going. Ravi says, “He was surprised. That surprise gave way quickly to anger. This isn’t a job you just disappear from. He wanted me to mobilize Azrael.”

Ravi does love his biblical references. Although I never met Azrael, his reputation looms like a storm cloud. The Agency’s second-best hitter, and I’m sure once I was gone he stepped in to fill the void.

“Sending a squad of goons after me is one thing,” I tell him. “You want to send another pro? That’s like stopping a hurricane with an atom bomb.”

“I don’t want to start a war,” Ravi says. “The Director has calmed down a bit. He’s willing to make you an offer.”

“What’s that?”

“Come in from the cold, full debrief on the past year. The Director will want to extract some kind of price, to prove you’re still loyal. Knowing him, the pound of flesh could literally be a pound of flesh. But I’ll sweeten the pot. We’ll help you find and eliminate the Russian. Then you’re back to work the next day. You’re going to be on a short leash for a while.”

I consider it.

It’s not great that I consider it.

It would be so easy, like slipping on an old pair of shoes. It would mean safety and security, not just for me, but for Astrid, and P. Kitty, and my home group.

If this is even a real offer. This could be something to get me through the door so they can swing the ax. I grip the blunt butter knife a little tighter. That god-energy coursing through me.

Maybe this is who I am, and who I am can’t change.

Then I think about what Kenji would say: Let go and let god.

I loosen my grip on the knife and put it on the table.

“You ever heard of Kurt Gödel?” I ask.

“He was a German mathematician,” Ravi says.

“Correct,” I tell him, picking up my fork and taking a bite of an egg dish. “He developed something called the incompleteness theorem. Math is supposed to be an absolute system of truth, because one plus one always equals two, right? I won’t get into it now because I probably won’t explain it right, but the incompleteness theorem states that any set of rules you could provide as a foundation of math will inevitably be incomplete. There will always be true facts about numbers that can’t be proven by these rules.”

“What is this supposed to mean?”

“Math is an imperfect system.” I toss down my fork and stand up from the table. “See you around, Ravi.”

“Why’d you quit, Mark? Was it a woman? Just like there’s always a Russian, there’s always a woman.”

“I took some time off.”

He’s smiling now. That smile snatches the breath out of my chest. “I knew there was something different about you.”

He sees it. I wonder what gave it away. Doesn’t matter. I reach up and scratch behind my ear. The sign Astrid and I agreed upon. A few seconds later a red glowing dot appears on his chest.

“You got something on your shirt there, bud,” I tell him.

He looks down and laughs. “I’ve seen this movie. Like you didn’t pass someone a few bucks and a laser pointer as, what, an intimidation tactic? Please.” He makes a show of brushing at the red dot with the back of his hand, like he’s wiping away a mote of dust.

I put my hands on the table and lean down close enough that he can smell what I just ate.

Channel that most savage part of me.

---