Grit: Vacuum 2

Put the word out that you’re a gun for hire for the highest bidder – also let it be known that you are the one responsible for there being one less shark in the water. People sit up and they take notice and it doesn’t take long before the phone is ringing off the hook. The old school guys never needed telling about who Grit was and what he could do but he knew that there were some new players in the game and some who’d replaced the old guard that might need reminding. Grit has a reputation that got around quickly; revitalised itself with every successful job that he carried out.
Gregory Samson was the first to call him in – a lavish get up this one had … fucking ponce. Grit would happily put this bastard out of his misery if someone asked him. Man, this guy advertised way too much what he was about – it put him in a bad position regards bargaining a price on a job – how could he ever claim any kind of hardship when he had more gold on him than the Federal Reserve. He sat there spinning what Grit was surprised to see was a wedding ring; toothpick between his teeth.
‘So, what can you do for me, Mr Grit?’
‘What do you want done, Mr Samson?’
‘I want Tony Marsh dead and gone.’
‘Okay, any particular way that you want him to die.’
‘Seriously fucked up is how I want him to die – that motherfucker thinks he can make a move on me just because Grimoire’s not here to hold it all in check?’
‘Okay. Don’t care about the politics. Just the money. You sort me out with the money and we’re good to go.’
‘How much do you want?’
Grit handed him a piece of paper.
‘Very reasonable, Mr Grit. Cheap at half the price. How do you want it?’
‘In fifties; bring it to the address on the back of the card.’
‘Fine. Nice doing business with you, Mr Grit.’
‘Likewise, Mr Samson.’
Grit turned and left. Stupid fucker; he had no clue and all those tell-tale signs of nervousness — he was bricking it. Nervous people did not do well in this line of work – either some from the outside spotted it or even worse someone on your own crew. Even if Grit hadn’t planned on blowing the top of the fucker’s skull someone else would have done sooner or later.
He had another meeting in half an hour, just time to get across the city and beat the rush-hour traffic. He was hoping, and he didn’t know why, that Tony Marsh would be somewhat more impressive. It was funny that he felt odd if he was killing someone who out of their depth; someone who had no talent for what they were doing.
He was going to rake it in – these people couldn’t see far enough past their own reputations to know what was going on.

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