I waited outside his apartment for an hour. He seemed to be working very late - I had never had to wait for him before. Then, just as I was about to kill him, he walked out of the building. He was a rather short man, even shorter than me, and wore thick glasses that made his eyes look even smaller; his face was round and wrinkled, and his bald head was only accentuated by his bushy eyebrows.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he greeted me in a very innocent voice.
“No problem,” I forced myself to smile.
“So why all the muscle?” He nodded at the guards that flanked me.
“Oh, I like to feel protected,” I replied, “anyone could be an assassin nowadays, you know.”
Despite the fact that he already knew why I was there, he nodded. “Well, let’s get going then.”
As soon as he stepped into the elevator, one of the guards came up to me. “Look, boss, let me handle this from here on.”
I stared at his face for a long while before nodding. We had known each for a long time, and he was the one who had given me the recommendation for my current employer.
“You can use the back entrance,” I told him, pointing to a small door in a rusty metal door. “And don’t forget, the meeting starts in exactly ten minutes, no later.”
He nodded, then turned to look at his boss. “He’s not a swindler. I’m the one who does the screening, and I assure you that he’s legit.”
“All right, all right,” he said, “then at least please invite me.”
I stopped myself from laughing as I heard the two men talking as they approached the door. With an effort, I straightened my face and headed for the meeting, the more difficult one. It was apparent by his last words that he was suspicious, and I had to ensure that the painting would be given away in exchange for nothing except the blank painting currently in my pocket.
He lived in a nice building - most criminals did, such was the nature of their business - and I had to climb two flights of stairs and walk down a dark corridor to finally reach the door to his apartment.
As I knocked, the door slid open noiselessly. Once the two men had arrived, they encountered a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Violet. He, on the other hand, was introduced as her son.
“The gallery opened twenty-three years ago, soon after my husband was sent to prison,” Violet continued, as soon as we sat together in their living room.
“And the paintings?” I asked.
“We provide art to all local and national museums,” he smiled. “But we choose only the great works for better appreciation.”
“And the connection with the Italian Mafia is just a coincidence, right?” I nodded towards his mother.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied calmly.
“Right,” I nodded. “So then I guess I can just change the three paintings that I have here, right?”
“That would be a very good decision, if you can prove yourself as the real deal,” he replied slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Otherwise, it won’t be worth the risk.”
He’s just a little boy who got all of his idea of “being a gangster” by watching TV, I thought to myself. If I could just stroke his ego a little…
“I didn’t expect such a request,” I replied slowly. He raised an eyebrow, and I hurriedly continued, “The paintings that I have here are just a few from my personal collection. They’re special for me, and I’m sure I could find another one.”
“I find it a charming exhibition of commitment,” Mrs. Violet murmured.
“I’m sure that I’ll find one,” I nodded. “Any preference?”
“I prefer paintings that vibrate with energy,” he replied slowly.
“I once had a Picasso in my collection, but unfortunately I had to give it away,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could. Too bad it was my collection, and my Picasso was never there. It was a good stuff to start with, as both Picasso and I didn’t have any direct connection with the Mafia.
“And I can just have it back?” My suggestion fell on deaf ears.
“Yes. But right now, all you have is a promise.”
“And the paintings?”
“Of course,” I murmured, giving him what I hoped was a sly smile. “My earlier promise, that is. The new promise now will just be that much more valuable.”
He nodded slowly as if he got what I meant. He sensed it, and he smiled back at me. “Of course,” he said again. “I’ll give you all three paintings.”
It was then that I saw that he was a dentist. He had arranged his chair in his living room so that when he was finished with his guests, he could just walk to the back of the room and do his work in the toilet.
“Where are the paintings?” I asked.
“They’re beside your chair.” He stood up, looking down at me. “I’ll go to the kitchen now and make some chamomile tea. Sarina, please take our guest to the gallery,” he told his mother.
After my meeting with them was over, I waved at the bodyguards and got into the back of the car with all the paintings and a blank canvas.
And then I disappeared.