The Grey Man
The Missive Literature Prompt
Henry examined the letter once more. Meticulously committing its instructions to his keen memory. Sitting alone at his table he opened his brass lighter and touched the flame to the corner of the paper and sat it down in the ash tray. No one cared to notice as the wisping smoke wafted and joined with the rest of the tobacco induced haze. Amidst the alcohol vapors games of faro and poker were underway and though the sun had only just begun to set, all around the bar house was jovial imbibement. Henry was not here on Holiday, however. He was on assignment.
As the fire consumed the paper burning from red to black to grey ashes Henry put out his cigar in the same ash tray. Neither a sloppy nor foppish man, his attire was equal parts plain and professional. A coat and vest concealed just some of the tools of his trade.
Two men, stocky with hats pulled down low and kerchiefs pulled over their noses barged in abruptly. One held a cloth sack and the other produced a revolver and in a lilt custom to the city announced a robbery. “Hold out on me and it’ll be a closed casket viewing! Hand it over”! In a bad beat, Henry watched as the men at the gambling tables were forced to turn their pockets inside out. As they moved to shake down the next table the two men had their backs to Henry, which in his line of work presented a textbook opportunity. In one swift mechanical motion he drew a Colt 1908, disengaging the safety and squeezing the air out of his lungs he settled the sights on the base of the gun man’s skull and squeezed the trigger. The man’s body clattered to the wooden floor as if struck by lightning. In shock the bag man dropped his loot and with fingers like flippers under duress, began fumbling for the gun in his own waist band. For which Henry discharged three rounds into his chest causing him to fall likewise onto his back.
He dropped the magazine from his pistol and inserted a new one, feeling it click in as it seated in the grip. he caught the half empty one under his shoe and picked it up and put in his coat pocket before holstering his pistol. Surveying the room most of the patrons had sensibly hugged the floor or taken cover under the tables. He slapped a bill on the table as payment for his food and drink and grabbed his hat, pulling the brim of the plain grey fedora low over his eyes. Stepping outside the sun was setting over the city skyline and through the ringing in his ears Henry could hear shouting and the reports of policeman’s whistles. Henry pushed past the forming gaggle of looky loos and on down the street, blending in with the crowd going about their day to day business, as he was also about his business. The time to move onto his first objective was now.