Dead Peasants by Larry D. Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

thighs and finally said, “$40,000 on this one, wired to your bank account once I have confirmed the death.”
    Hawk raised his eyebrows slightly at the amount. “That’ll be quite satisfactory; only on this job, since I don’t know you, I’ll need $20,000 wired in advance with the balance when the job is done. You said ‘this one.’ Should I be expecting more jobs in the future?”
    Boss shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I agree with the split payment. I’ll evaluate your performance at a later date.” Boss reached into his pocket and retrieved a cell phone. “Keep this with you twenty-four hours a day. I’ll contact you on it. Use it only for calls from me. After I call you the first time, you’ll have the cell number I’ll be using.”
    Hawk smiled as he took the cell phone and put it in his shirt pocket. “As far as I’m concerned we have a deal. My only other requirement is that we only discuss a meeting place on the phone. The details of the assignment will be worked out in person. I’ll pick the place for the meeting.”
    Boss reached over to shake Hawk’s hand
    “There’s one more thing,” Hawk said. “I know who you are. At least I know your face. I read the
Star Telegram
every morning and I’ve seen your picture from time to time. Don’t worry, though. I don’t rat out a business partner.”
    Boss gulped, but then realized that he had jumped into the deep end and couldn’t crawl out now. He nodded to Hawk, pitched a ten on the table and left the bar. When he got to his car, he drove to the edge of the highway where he stopped and stared at the cars speeding by. He pounded the steering wheel, thinking that he had been a businessman his entire life and expected to drive hard bargains, but this was the first time he had ever stepped all the way over the line.

14
    Boss turned into the parking lot in front of the Forest Park duck pond at dusk. Hawk had insisted their meeting would be there. Boss got out of his car and watched a young mother and father with two children feeding the ducks. The boy and girl, who looked about five and six, would retrieve pieces of bread from a sack held by their dad and rush down to the water’s edge to toss the bread as far as they could, usually a few feet. The ducks would converge on the place where the bread landed, and one would emerge victorious, gulping down the bread before the others could take it away. Then, they would turn back to the kids and the game would start again.
    Boss envied the carefree family and wished for those bygone days. Life had dealt him straights and flushes for thirty-plus years. Now the good cards were gone, and he was lucky to draw a pair of deuces. He sighed as the father called his brood together and told them that it was getting too dark to stay in the park. The family walked to their car with the kids begging to come back tomorrow. Once the kids were buckled into the back seat, the parents climbed into the front. When they drove away, Boss noticed that the emblem on the trunk was from an Allison Southwest dealership.
    It was ten minutes before he heard the creaking of boards on the bridge over the pond and saw the glowing end of a cigarette. Hawk appeared. “I’ve been parked on the other side. I wanted to make sure no one else would interrupt us. Nice family,” Hawk said.
    When Hawk got close, Boss asked, “Why this place and why now?”
    Hawk smiled as he lit another cigarette. “The duck pond is usually busy up until about sunset. Then in another hour or two it’ll become a lover’s lane. We should have it to ourselves now. You got something for me?”
    Boss started to reply, then stopped. He hesitated for long enough that Hawk was becoming suspicious, then erupted with a sneeze. “Sorry, must be something around here I’m allergic to. There’s a man in Breckenridge. Name’s Jim Morris. Used to be an auto mechanic. Now he works in the oil fields. He’s your first target. I want it done in the