The car sped onto I880 North. Christine had again given Michael the option to leave for the night, under the condition that Stuart went with him. They took BART back to the Fremont station and fetched his car from the back of the lot. Tomorrow they were headed to Cottonwood Falls Kansas, where he would act as a sitting duck for some crazed killer. Quint's reasoning why: he was interested to see if Gary would show up.
Michael parked in his covered parking spot. The pair made their way across the lot to the right gate. Out of habit, Michael stopped at the mailboxes and shuffled through the various brochures he didn't remember signing up for. There were a few white bank envelopes, a coupon catalog, and a yellow envelope from an address he didn't recognize.
Michael placed the envelope in the center of the stack and continued up the stairs to his apartment. Dirty clothes were spread sporadically across the hallway. Unwashed dishes lined the sink.
"Nice to see you take care of yourself," Stuart said, looking at the mess.
Michael tossed the mail on the counter and pulled out the phone Gary had given him.
"What are you going to tell him?" Stuart asked. "Are you going to say what Mr. Morton told you to?"
"No. I'm going to tell him something that'll get him to come."
"Mr. Morton typically is good with his promises."
"He said 'it would end earlier.' Me getting assassinated is a way it'd end earlier." Michael replied.
"I think you have to be more important for it to be considered an assassination. It'd just be a murder with you," Stuart noted.
Michael clicked the one contact and hit send. Gary picked up on the first ring.
"You bastard." Gary snarled, "You bastard!"
"The company's given me another hit in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas," Michael stated, ignoring Gary's outburst. He was done being intimidated by him. "It's a big target this time. Said they'd paid twenty-five thousand for the hit."
Stuart coughed and signaled Michael with his thumb to raise the price.
"I mean two-hundred and fifty thousand." He blurted. Stuart gave him a thumbs up.
"You bastard, don't act like you don't know you, little weasel." Gary was breathing heavily, "I hope they kill you."
Gary hung up.
Michael stood stunned.
"Well?" Stuart asked.
"He said he hopes they kill me. Then hung up."
Stuart opened his mouth, closed it. Then said, "Rough."
Michael tried redialing Gary, but the phone was off. He'd be going to Kansas alone.
He paced the living room as Stuart sat quiet, unsure of what to say. Michael wandered back into the kitchen and shuffled through the mail. He pulled the yellow envelope from the center of the stack, put it in his shirt, and walked to the bedroom.
Michael closed the door and listened to make sure Stuart wasn't coming. Once he was sure he was alone, he tore the seal and pulled out a handwritten letter. He recognized the handwriting.
Michael,
I'm so sorry. I'm not sure how much they've told you, or what they've put you through, but I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to raise you right. You're a special young man, and you know that. You have so much potential, you are far smarter than you think.
When I realized today what was going on, It tore me apart. I'm meeting with Quint right after I finish this letter. He is not a good man. Don't believe anything he says. Don't take any deals from him. They always come at a cost.
I'm not sure how you're mixed up in this, but please do me a favor and get out as fast as you can. Go to West Coast Bank, account number 782.987.05.
Do not worry about me. I will be ok. I love you Michael.
Love,
Mimsy