The Last Option

The flight landed on time at Little Rock's Adams Field National Airport, and Bernard and Anthony immediately looked for a hotel to stay at, choosing La Quinta Inn & Suites, downtown. As Anthony unpacked, Bernard gazed from their bedroom window at the busy Broadway Street in front of the hotel, remembering the last time he'd walked it three years ago.

"Margaret wanted us to stay here at this hotel the night before we left for New York," he said sadly. Anthony turned to see him, stopping unpacking. "I told her that with the little savings we had left we couldn't do that, but she insisted, saying we should do something different before leaving to find our new life elsewhere. I should have accepted, I deprived her of many things for not wanting to risk anything new, always thinking of saving money to sustain our precarious situation. When we finally find a way to have what she's always wanted, she's taken from me."

He turned to see Anthony, who looked down as he held a shirt in his hands.

"That's why I'm here, Anthony," he told him, clenching his teeth in rage, "for you to help me find that bastard who murdered our friends, and for him to tell me who ordered him to kill them. She didn't deserve to die, not yet, we had even thought about having our own children. It's not fair that she left without having everything she deserved!"

Two tears rolled down his cheeks and he immediately wiped them away. Anthony dropped the shirt on the bed and walked over to him.

"I know how you feel, son," he told him, with his eyes full of tears, "I went through that too and believe me, I know how it hurts, but for now we don't have time to mourn her, we need to be strong to face what's coming, and once we've gotten justice for her and your friends, then we'll mourn her and be a little more at peace. I need you to invest that anger and that frustration that you feel in what we are going to do, and you have a clear mind so as not to make mistakes. You can't make mistakes with these people. Okay?"

Bernard nodded. He went to his bed and took his suitcase, unpacking his clothes.

"Have you thought about going to Marshall?" Anthony asked, going back to unpack his clothes as well.

"I don't know yet. Maybe."

"I suggest you take some time and go. It's not good to hold grudges in your soul, son. I would go with you, but I don't have anything to look for there anymore. You have someone to look for."

Anthony was referring to the small city they both came from, called Marshall, north of Arkansas, and where Bernard still had family. With Margaret's death, nothing tied Anthony to that city anymore, but Bernard still had family there, more specifically his grandmother and a brother, who never agreed he should leave the navy and later marry Margaret, constantly arguing about those reasons and for which Bernard made the decision to go with her, one spring morning, without saying goodbye to them.

"I'll think about it," he finally said.

That same night they went to a nightclub in the center of the city to start looking for old friends of Anthony. When they entered, the barman immediately noticed them and touched a hand to a man sitting on the far right of the bar, when he looked at him, he made signs to him to notice the newcomers and when he did he looked back at the bartender with a surprised face. He made a sign and immediately the man left.

Anthony and Bernard came to the bar, sitting on the stools across from it.

"Hi, Marty," Anthony greeted.

"Nice to see you again, Anthony," the bartender said with a slight smile. "How long."

"Yes, since I retired, how many have passed? Ten years?"

"Yes, about ten years, Anthony."

"Do you remember Bernard?" Anthony pointed to Bernard, who gave a slight bow of his head. "Well, I never formally introduced him to you but I always showed him to you in photos. Do you remember?" Marty thought for a few seconds, then he remembered.

"Isn't he your daughter's husband?"

"Exactly, Marty! I see you have a good memory."

"Okay. And how is she? Why didn't she come with you?"

"She died," Bernard said coldly, Marty immediately turned pale and thought that perhaps her death had something to do with him and his bosses. "Sorry to hear that, man, I-"

"Yes, she's dead," Anthony interrupted him, "and that's why we're here. But don't worry, it has nothing to do with Gonzo and Don."

"Don't scare me, man. You know we have always taken care of your family. If she died, no-"

"How are they?" Anthony interrupted him again. "Gonzo and Don? Are they here tonight?"

At that moment a door at the back opened, giving way to a plump, bald man, who was smoking a cigar and was formally dressed. "Anthony?" he asked coming up to them and opening his arms to receive him. "It's nice to see you again!"

"How have you been, Gonzo?"

Anthony threw his arms around the fat man, returning his hug.

"When did you arrive and what are you doing there in that filthy bar? Come, man, to my office."

At that moment the fat man noticed Bernard, who had begun to follow them, and stopped, watching him carefully.

"He's my son-in-law," Anthony told him. "Do you remember him?"

"Is this little Bernie? How much has him grown! Come on, let's go to the office."

"Bernie?" Bernard whispered in Anthony's ear as they followed the fat man.

"I'll explain you later."

They passed into a corridor behind the bar, and at the end of it they found another door, entering and finding a large, luxuriously furnished space with a desk on the right side. Gonzo invited them to sit on the leather furniture, while he went to a small liquor pantry to prepare three whiskeys.

"I see business has grown, Gonzo," Anthony said, taking in everything around him. "It's good to know that you guys are doing well."

"We had a little expansion to the east, out of the state," Gonzo said as he returned with the glasses for them and went back to get his, and then sat down across from them. "It's not great, but it has reported some income, which is what matters."

"That's good," Anthony said, taking a sip of his drink.

"I thought I wouldn't see you anymore," Gonzo said, "after your retirement I found out you went to do charitable works around the world, which seemed noble on your part. What brought you back to this site?"

"I came to ask you a favor."

"Whatever you want, man, as long as I can. What do you need?"

"We need to find a professional killer," intervened Bernard, who had kept a low profile up to that point.

Gonzo looked at his old friend, intrigued.

"I'll explain, Gonzo", Anthony said before the fat man asked him the reasons, "that man is responsible, along with the client who hired him for a job, for the death of my daughter."

"Jesus Christ, Anthony! I'm very sorry to hear that, really."

"Thank you, Gonzo, it's been a bit hard for Bernard and me."

"Don't worry, man, you know we owe you a lot for your services rendered years ago. Of course we'll help you! What do you want me to do?"

"Margaret's death occurred in New York," Bernard said, "and we assume the killer is still there, as the police have no leads on him and are not looking for him."

"It will be a bit difficult to get to the contacts in New York," Gonzo said, "but not impossible. Tell me how it all happened and-"

"We have his name," Anthony interrupted, "I think knowing that information will make it easier, right? We just want you to help us contact him as if we wanted to commission him a job; if he suspects that we are looking for him for another reason then he will hide more or leave the country."

"Okay. What is his name?"

"Duncan Smith," Bernard said, "we suspect he is currently working for a New York billionaire, who may have commissioned him to do the job where my wife died."

"Very well. Let me make a few calls and I'll let you know if I make contact. Where are you staying?"

"In La Quinta, room 302," Anthony said. "Don't mention us for any reason, we just want to know how to contact him."

"What if we eliminate him for you? That way your hands don't get dirty."

"That's precisely what I want," Bernard said coldly, "to have his blood on my hands, and to see him in the eye when I'm kill him for all the damage he did."

"Be careful, boy, it doesn't feel good to take someone's life up close. It's one thing to kill in combat, in war, there is no time to think, but quite another face to face, aware that you are doing it. Old Anthony here can enlighten you a bit on that." Bernard looked at Anthony somewhat surprised by Gonzo's words.

"I appreciate what you can do, Gonzo," Anthony said, getting up to leave, "you know where we'll be."

Gonzo was going to ask them to stay and enjoy the club's midnight girls' show, but he preferred not to, thinking that Margaret's death might still be very recent.

The three of them said their goodbyes and Anthony and Bernard headed for the exit.

"By the way: where is Don?" Anthony asked before leaving. "I hope he is okay."

"He's fine, don't worry about him. He's in Kentucky, taking care of some business over there. As I told you, we have expanded a little to the east, outside the State." "You greet him for me when you talk to him."

"Sure! He will be happy to hear from you."

They then both left the room.