Hitman: Enemy Within by William C. Dietz Read Free Book Online

Formica-covered table that was flanked by two Naugahyde-covered benches. Agent 47 chose the one that put his back to the wall and provided a good view of the front door. The kitchen door, which could be used as an alternate exit, was immediately to his left. True to its name, the eatery was decorated with all manner of copper cooking implements that sat on shelves, dangled from the ceiling, and had been screwed to the walls. He spent the next few minutes assembling a rather unhealthy breakfast from the long list of à la carte items the Copper Kitchen had to offer. Then, having placed an order for two fried eggs, country-style hash brown potatoes, and a side of crisp bacon, he proceeded to scan the paper. The headline proclaimed BARNYARD SLAUGHTER in big, bold letters.A description that seemed accurate enough, all things considered. Not that society had any reason to mourn the thieves, drug dealers, and murderers who had been killed at the farm.
    Agent 47 had just begun to read the accompanying text when the front door opened, and the man who entered the room caught his attention. The man had carefully combed black hair, Eurasian features, and stood about five-ten or-eleven. His clothes weren’t all that different from those the assassin wore, except that his suit was dark blue, with gray pinstripes. Though 47 had never seen him before—just as he had never seen Marla prior to the meeting at the barn—he instinctively recognized the newcomer as a player. He already had one hand inside his coat, and was preparing to exit the booth, when the stranger saw him and…
    Waved.
    At that moment, the assassin could stay, and run the risk that the man in the pinstriped suit had been sent by the Big Kahuna’s associates, or he could duck out the back. And run into what?An ambush in the parking lot? There was no way to know.
    Finally, as was so often the case, the decision came down to a gut feeling. So 47 remained where he was as the other man slid into the seat across from him. The stranger had yellowish-brown eyes, a straight nose, and extremely white teeth. They gleamed when he smiled.
    “Good morning!” the man said heartily. “I notice only one of your hands is visible. Does that mean what I think it means?”
    “Of course,” 47 replied cautiously. “What did you expect?”
    “Nothing less,” the other man replied evenly.
    Agent 47’s waitress appeared at that point, placed his order on the table, and agreed to bring a cup of coffee for the man with the yellowish-brown eyes.
    “So,” the assassin said as the woman walked away. “Who are you?”
    “My name is Nu,” the man with the perfect teeth responded. “ Mr . Nu. We work for the same organization. The difference is that I’m management, and you’re labor.”
    “Really?”47 inquired skeptically. “And why should I believe you?”
    “Because I know how important the number 640509040147 is to you,” Nu replied confidently. “Go ahead and eat. Your food is getting cold.”
    The revelation came as a shock. Only someone from The Agency would be privy to the serial number—the one that had been issued to the assassin on September 5, 1964. But even though Nu appeared to be who he said he was, Agent 47 kept a Silverballer aimed at the other man’s stomach. That left one hand with which he could eat his breakfast.
    “All right,” the assassin allowed, “Let’s say you are who you claim to be. What brings you toYakima ?”
    “Your most recent report brought me,” the other man replied, as the waitress arrived with his coffee. Waiting for her to depart, he continued. “Having reviewed the surveillance footage, the entire management team came to the same conclusion. The woman who calls herself Marla not only knew you were coming, but was aware of the contract on the Big Kahuna, and the way you were supposed to take him out.”
    Agent 47 chased a mouthful of food with some of the Copper Kitchen’s lukewarm coffee before putting the cup down.
    “Which