#16 Less May Be More, But Is It Enough?

Simon walked into Mr. Gillingham's office after getting the 'go ahead' from the foxy little secretary outside his door.

"Fine, do the job, get me my money back," Gillingham said into the receiver of his desk phone, and then hung up. "Mr. Simon Refing, I trust this is a visit that I will find pleasing?"

Simon clinched his jaw as he took a seat in front of Gillingham's desk and then quickly loosened up after he sat. "Yes, Mr. Gillingham," he started, "all objectives required by the mission have been completed."

Gillingham reared back in his seat and laughed a few deep chuckles and then, like a jack in the box, he sprang forward leaning over his desk, "this calls for a drink, Simon my boy!" Gillingham pulled a bottle of Scotch and two glasses from a drawer in his desk.

"Sir, it's nine in the morning."

"Your point?"

"No point, just mentioning it," said Simon and he took the glass Gillingham handed him and drank.

"If you continue to do as I say, Mr. Refing, you'll find yourself in a very good position in no time."

"I appreciate not being given up on, Sir."

"No mention of it is necessary. Your old partner is on his way at this very moment to take care of some business of mine that I don't think he would be up to if it haden't been for your actiosn forcing me to cut the cord that bound the two of you."

"Jacquie?"

"Yes, Jacquie."

"So we are in fact no longer partners."

"The plans I have no longer necessitate you two being paired, which is not to say you will not have a partner."

"A new partner?"

"Yes, one whose services are unlike any other Gun Bearer, you'll be assisting him. Don't think for a second that this celebratory drink and lack of your blood on my hands means that you are now within my good graces. Never forget that your impulsive actions at the beginning of the original mission nearly disrupted the Syndicates plans as a whole. Your punishment for that will be ongoing until I see some permanent changes."

Simon's jaw clinched. He drained his drink and tried not to slam it down on Gillingham's desk.

"I can feel the temperature in the room rising, Mr. Refing, perhaps it is time to end our meeting. Your payment will be waiting for you at the Damsel as always."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Refing."

 

Simon walked into the Damsel at half past eleven and was met by a few surly patrons, two dancers in their respective arenas, and the bartender, Jack. He couldn't help but look around for Kitten. And when his eyes couldn't spot her, he took a deep breath and plopped down on a stool at the bar.

"How much is it, Jack?"

"And hello to you too," said Jack.

Simon looked at him with half way apologetic eyes.

"Sixty thousand."

"Sixty Kay? Fine. Pour me a drink and just start hitting the minus button."

"You really wanna start drinking this early?"

"I've already started, Jack, just pour the fucking drink."

Jack poured a stiff whiskey.

Simon held it up, "this is to the end of my life. It won't be long now."