my sources tell me, mister trope, that you are the world’s deadliest assassin.
some people have been kind enough to describe me as such. i just try to do my job and give good service.
i see. and how much do you charge for your services?
nothing.
nothing?
no, i feel that my services are either needed or not, and no one should be deprived of them simply because they lack funds.
interesting. so, how do you decide to whom to provide your services?
i provide services to all victims.
all right. and how do people prove they are victims?
they just tell me that they are. i believe all victims. that is my first law - to believe all victims.
so if i give you the name of a party that has victimized me, you will take care of them - no questions asked?
absolutely. and we need never see each other again.
that sounds good to me. here is a piece of paper with a name and address on it. the person described on it did me wrong. shall i just give it to you?
yes.
trope took the piece of paper from capone, glanced at it, put it in his pocket and stood up.
thank you , mr capone, for giving me the opportunity to continue to fulfill my destiny.
you are very welcome, sir.
trope left. frank stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the corridor and out the front door and into the street.
what do you think? capone asked frank.
what do you think?
capone shrugged.
who was on the piece of paper?
perkins.
who?
a little schmuck over on 223rd street, came over on the mayflower, and runs a combination flower shop and cigar store.
don’t the cigars stink up the flowers?
i don’t know, maybe the flowers stink up the cigars. i am not an expert on these matters.
so what did this perkins ever do to you?
i just don’t like him. outwardly, he shows proper respect, but he has this look in his eyes like he does not really respect me at all.
be that as it may, i presume you just want to see if this trope fellow can deliver the way he says. i mean, one of the boys could have taken care of this perkins.
capone did not bother to answer.
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