Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,63
his head a little. “Why did you come here?” He glanced toward the front of the restaurant. “And in such a flashy piece of ass, too. Last I remember, you actually had pretty decent taste in cars.”
And here it was—the in he needed. Now all August had to do was sell it. “The Ferrari? Yeah, it was my favorite, but needs must when the devil drives, and all that. Actually, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”
Silva raised an eyebrow. “Cars?”
“Not exactly. More like…” August made a circling motion in the air with one hand, as though he was straining his brain to come up with the right metaphor. “Like how to handle a person who caused a big problem with my cars. And my home. And myself.”
Silva’s lips thinned. “I have no idea what you think I can do for you, Mr. Mason, but I guarantee you—”
“Just—look, just shut up and let me finish, all right?” August hissed, going for angry and embarrassed all at once. “Let’s put all the bullshit and posturing aside for a second and admit, right here and now, that you know people who do certain things for money, and that I have a lot of money. This isn’t a trap,” he added when Silva still looked like he was about to stand up. “You can check me for a wire, you can take my phone—you have to give it back, my sister had the gold-plating engraved for me—but I have a big problem, and you’re the only guy I know personally that could point me toward some help.”
“We’re not friends,” Silva pointed out. “We’re barely even acquaintances. Why should I stick my neck out for you just ‘cause you got into something over your head?”
“It’s better that we’re not friends,” August replied airily. “That’s how you know I’m serious about solving my problem—if I could have gone to a friend to get this done, I would have. Just hear me out. I’ll make it worth your while, okay?” He watched as the other man weighed the odds in his head, the chances that putting up with August for a while would actually lead to something interesting.
It will, it really will…
“Fine. Hypothetically speaking, what are the details of this problem?”
August groaned and collapsed back in the booth. “They’re ludicrous. Okay, so I may have had a teeny bit too much to drink the other night, and I may have run into this man’s car, right? It wasn’t even a very nice car. My car was very nice—I was using the Tesla that night, my insurance hates me—but his wasn’t. This guy gets out, though, and he won’t accept my apology, won’t even exchange information with me. Sure, his car was slightly totaled, but mine was way worse!” August shook his head. “He levies all these threats, which I was sure had to be bogus, and then later that night…” He swallowed hard, let his eyes glaze over a little bit. “He blew up my house.”
Now that got Silva’s attention. “What?” he demanded.
“You heard me, he blew up my fucking house! Over ten million dollars’ worth of damage, and that’s just for the structural stuff, not to mention the garage. And then he had the gall to come inside through my broken living room window, haul me up off the floor—I fell down my own stairs trying to get out, it hurt, I think I have bruises—” August added with a pout, “and then he yelled in my face!”
“What did he say to you?” Silva asked.
“He said ‘now we’re even,’ except how the fuck could we be, unless that asshole was literally living out of his car,” August scoffed. “Then he left. I tracked him down, though—my cars are always recording, just in case someone gets fresh with them, and I got his license plate number. It led me to an ID that I’m pretty sure is false, but I’ve got people working on digging into it right now. I’ll know his real name soon enough. Nobody that good with goddamn explosives isn’t in some sort of government database, and I’ve got friends in high places to help me search him out.”
Silva nodded slowly. “And you want to do what to this guy, exactly?”
“I want to get rid of him. He’s clearly a menace to society, I’d be doing the rest of the world a favor,” August said vehemently. “My fucking house. I just got the bathroom remodel done. I shipped over a marble