If only I could tell you the things I’ve seen and heard
within these walls. Tales told of
riches, plots of murder, bids for power, my favorite being from a girl who was
in search of her friend who had been taken by her enemies. Oh, the stories I’ve heard. None of which needed my concern. I was only there to do my job. Nothing more than a simple service. For I was just a waiter.
“Sir?” Looking up from the glass in my hand, I eyed him. An elderly gentleman, one I haven’t seen in here before. Since I moved to this godforsaken place, I gave up on attempts to understand my neighbors. Everyone here is the same, but on different levels. Everyone here is a criminal. This man, however, was a criminal of a distinct nature, one that kept to the shadows, keeping his hands clean as others do his work.
“Evening. How may I help you? There is a─”
“Please, spare me your rehearsed greeting.” Placing the glass I had been drying down, I reached for my pen and paper. Since he would not allow me to complete a recitation of what our establishment serves, I would assume he knew what he wanted. “I’m here more for you than the food. Though a stiff drink may be on order.”
“Of course, sir.” Returning the pen and paper to their place in my apron pocket, I reached for a glass and poured him a glass of brandy. One of the finest in our collection, one of the few that hasn’t been shattered by bullets.
“Fine choice my boy.” I nodded slightly and returned to my task of cleaning the glasses. The bartender had left early this evening and I was left to do his dishes. A simple task that I would actually consider enjoyable. It was a slow night and he needed to go home and be with his wife for once. “So, tell me, how’s this position treating you? Well, I presume?”
“It’s an occupation that needed to be filled and I just so happened to fill it.”
“An unanswered answer.” The man grinned. “How about I rephrase my question?” I glanced at him, the glass I was drying continuing to twist around the towel. “Compared to your previous occupation, would you find this one just as exciting?”
My eyes closed for a moment. “This position is suited to my needs.”
“You’re good at avoiding questions.” Placing my glass in its place, I grabbed another from the water, continuing my task. “Just as I would expect from someone with your history.” Again, I glanced at him, watching as he took a sip from his brandy. “Let me introduce myself, I’m Arthur Wilkes and I am in need of someone with your talents.”
“You’re looking for a man to wait your tables? I believe you might have better luck elsewhere for I am quite content with my position here.”
“I’m sure you are. But wouldn’t it be more interesting if the Ghost were to make a reappearance.” That was the reason he was here. Searching for a story. Shaking my head slightly, I kept my face neutral while drying the glass. This was nothing but a ploy to find a myth.
“The Ghost for which I assume you’re referring has disappeared.”
“So he would like us to believe. I know his history, the talents he possesses. Even the missions he completed and disappeared without a trace for only a ghost could enter where he has been.”
“Talented man.” I reached for another glass.
“He is. Over fifty years of work only to vanish. My boy, I believe that you know more about him than you’re telling me.”
“If he were still alive, that would make him near at least sixty years old. For you to want him to return to his former glory would be far too much to ask of an old man.”
“That is where I believe you come in.” Glancing at him, I wondered how much Mr. Wilkes knew of the Ghost and his talents. The Ghost was once a great assassin, a hired gun for those who were able to find him. No man knew his face and those who did, were found with their throats slit. “Sixty years, that would be too much for one man to accomplish. There had to have been successors and the original Ghost to have retired years ago.” Mr. Wilkes leaned closer, whispering. “My boy, despite your young age, I do have my beliefs about you. Perhaps you would like to come out of hiding and provide a service to a humble old man.” Ah, he believed I am the most recent Ghost.
“Sir, the Ghost is precisely who he is. A ghost, a phantom, something that is myth. Though he did have his run, it is my belief that he has passed. My apologies, Mr. Wilkes, but I cannot help you find someone who isn’t even real.”
“Reality is not the question here. I’ve spent a great deal of resources looking for you. Imagine my surprise to discover this great assassin working in this run down restaurant. I’ll leave my offer with you and give you twenty-four hours to decide.” Pulling a manila envelope from his briefcase, Mr. Wilkes slid it across the counter to me. “I do hope you’ll take my offer.” Finishing off his drink, the man placed some cash on the bar and slid on his coat. “I shall see you soon my friend.” As he walked out, I took the envelope. Curiosity taking its hold. The only ones left were the two men in the far corner, one passed out drunk and the other talking to him as if he were listening. Slipping into the back, I made my way to my apartment upstairs, a small one room that my employer has graciously rented to me in return for my services. Ensuring my windows were closed and blinds shut, I opened the envelope and placed its contents on the table sitting in the middle of my room. Intriguing. First, I saw the letter, followed by a few pictures, and a small envelope containing a thousand dollars in cash. Mr. Wilkes was already trying to buy services that I would not provide. The letter then caught my attention.
Mr. Waiter,
As I had explained in our earlier conversation, I believe that the Ghost is very much real, and very much alive and well. You are my link to him because I know you know who he is. Enclosed is an envelope containing $1000 in cash, consider this a down payment; upon completion, the entirety of your payment shall be in the amount of $10,000. There is also a small dossier on the intended target, a Miss Anna White. Should you consider my offer, please meet with me underneath the grieving window’s watch. I do hope that we can become friendly business associates.
-W
I held the picture of the girl, cute, blonde hair, blue eyes, and according to the dossier, she was twenty-five, lived within this hellhole, and is associated with one of the local bosses. Associated is not the proper term, the daughter of one of the local crime bosses would be more exact. Why would Wilkes target her? No matter, it was not my place to question. However, returning to a life that I had pushed aside would bring out a darker side on myself. Returning the papers to the manila envelope, I took the money and pushed aside the bedside table, revealing a small trap door. Opening it, I placed the money inside and retrieved my old friends, two pistols and a watch. My eyes glanced at the small book in the safe’s corner, but I kept from taking it. Now was not the time to revisit the past, despite my interest in Mr. Wilkes. Placing my pistols in the holsters under my shirt and placing the watch on my wrist, I returned to my post downstairs. As soon as those two men leave, I too shall.
“Sir?” Looking up from the glass in my hand, I eyed him. An elderly gentleman, one I haven’t seen in here before. Since I moved to this godforsaken place, I gave up on attempts to understand my neighbors. Everyone here is the same, but on different levels. Everyone here is a criminal. This man, however, was a criminal of a distinct nature, one that kept to the shadows, keeping his hands clean as others do his work.
“Evening. How may I help you? There is a─”
“Please, spare me your rehearsed greeting.” Placing the glass I had been drying down, I reached for my pen and paper. Since he would not allow me to complete a recitation of what our establishment serves, I would assume he knew what he wanted. “I’m here more for you than the food. Though a stiff drink may be on order.”
“Of course, sir.” Returning the pen and paper to their place in my apron pocket, I reached for a glass and poured him a glass of brandy. One of the finest in our collection, one of the few that hasn’t been shattered by bullets.
“Fine choice my boy.” I nodded slightly and returned to my task of cleaning the glasses. The bartender had left early this evening and I was left to do his dishes. A simple task that I would actually consider enjoyable. It was a slow night and he needed to go home and be with his wife for once. “So, tell me, how’s this position treating you? Well, I presume?”
“It’s an occupation that needed to be filled and I just so happened to fill it.”
“An unanswered answer.” The man grinned. “How about I rephrase my question?” I glanced at him, the glass I was drying continuing to twist around the towel. “Compared to your previous occupation, would you find this one just as exciting?”
My eyes closed for a moment. “This position is suited to my needs.”
“You’re good at avoiding questions.” Placing my glass in its place, I grabbed another from the water, continuing my task. “Just as I would expect from someone with your history.” Again, I glanced at him, watching as he took a sip from his brandy. “Let me introduce myself, I’m Arthur Wilkes and I am in need of someone with your talents.”
“You’re looking for a man to wait your tables? I believe you might have better luck elsewhere for I am quite content with my position here.”
“I’m sure you are. But wouldn’t it be more interesting if the Ghost were to make a reappearance.” That was the reason he was here. Searching for a story. Shaking my head slightly, I kept my face neutral while drying the glass. This was nothing but a ploy to find a myth.
“The Ghost for which I assume you’re referring has disappeared.”
“So he would like us to believe. I know his history, the talents he possesses. Even the missions he completed and disappeared without a trace for only a ghost could enter where he has been.”
“Talented man.” I reached for another glass.
“He is. Over fifty years of work only to vanish. My boy, I believe that you know more about him than you’re telling me.”
“If he were still alive, that would make him near at least sixty years old. For you to want him to return to his former glory would be far too much to ask of an old man.”
“That is where I believe you come in.” Glancing at him, I wondered how much Mr. Wilkes knew of the Ghost and his talents. The Ghost was once a great assassin, a hired gun for those who were able to find him. No man knew his face and those who did, were found with their throats slit. “Sixty years, that would be too much for one man to accomplish. There had to have been successors and the original Ghost to have retired years ago.” Mr. Wilkes leaned closer, whispering. “My boy, despite your young age, I do have my beliefs about you. Perhaps you would like to come out of hiding and provide a service to a humble old man.” Ah, he believed I am the most recent Ghost.
“Sir, the Ghost is precisely who he is. A ghost, a phantom, something that is myth. Though he did have his run, it is my belief that he has passed. My apologies, Mr. Wilkes, but I cannot help you find someone who isn’t even real.”
“Reality is not the question here. I’ve spent a great deal of resources looking for you. Imagine my surprise to discover this great assassin working in this run down restaurant. I’ll leave my offer with you and give you twenty-four hours to decide.” Pulling a manila envelope from his briefcase, Mr. Wilkes slid it across the counter to me. “I do hope you’ll take my offer.” Finishing off his drink, the man placed some cash on the bar and slid on his coat. “I shall see you soon my friend.” As he walked out, I took the envelope. Curiosity taking its hold. The only ones left were the two men in the far corner, one passed out drunk and the other talking to him as if he were listening. Slipping into the back, I made my way to my apartment upstairs, a small one room that my employer has graciously rented to me in return for my services. Ensuring my windows were closed and blinds shut, I opened the envelope and placed its contents on the table sitting in the middle of my room. Intriguing. First, I saw the letter, followed by a few pictures, and a small envelope containing a thousand dollars in cash. Mr. Wilkes was already trying to buy services that I would not provide. The letter then caught my attention.
Mr. Waiter,
As I had explained in our earlier conversation, I believe that the Ghost is very much real, and very much alive and well. You are my link to him because I know you know who he is. Enclosed is an envelope containing $1000 in cash, consider this a down payment; upon completion, the entirety of your payment shall be in the amount of $10,000. There is also a small dossier on the intended target, a Miss Anna White. Should you consider my offer, please meet with me underneath the grieving window’s watch. I do hope that we can become friendly business associates.
-W
I held the picture of the girl, cute, blonde hair, blue eyes, and according to the dossier, she was twenty-five, lived within this hellhole, and is associated with one of the local bosses. Associated is not the proper term, the daughter of one of the local crime bosses would be more exact. Why would Wilkes target her? No matter, it was not my place to question. However, returning to a life that I had pushed aside would bring out a darker side on myself. Returning the papers to the manila envelope, I took the money and pushed aside the bedside table, revealing a small trap door. Opening it, I placed the money inside and retrieved my old friends, two pistols and a watch. My eyes glanced at the small book in the safe’s corner, but I kept from taking it. Now was not the time to revisit the past, despite my interest in Mr. Wilkes. Placing my pistols in the holsters under my shirt and placing the watch on my wrist, I returned to my post downstairs. As soon as those two men leave, I too shall.
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