Gavin and I had been partners in the field of undercover work since I first started out nine years ago. We were at the top of our line, the best of the best. Gavin had the brain power and the quick eyes, and I had the luck and the courage. Together, there was nothing that we couldn’t find, steal, or walk away from. But if compared, Gavin was always at a level higher than me. My strength was no match for his, he could outwit anyone, and what killed me was that he put money above everything and everyone else.

Money was what had brought us to this point. My own partner had turned against me because he was presumably paid enough to, and there was nothing that I could do. I had foreseen this day years before, when Gavin swam deep in his river of material welfare. And still, I couldn’t do anything about it.

"And why shouldn’t I?" asked Gavin. He clicked the pistol. "You’ve been a good partner to me, but this time, the money is enough for me to live a hundred life times in good fortune." His sharp and bitter-cold words stabbed deep inside me. Why was he so careless? Did I not mean anything to him at all? Where those past nine years all just a lie? I was speechless. "It was a beautiful friendship and all, but I’m afraid that it’s going to have to end here." And with those last words, he pulled the trigger.

The cab smelled of pine scented air freshener. I looked at all the ads taped onto the back of the driver’s seat; end pollution, help bring world peace, quit smoking. I took another breath of the cigarette I had, and extinguished it in the ash tray on the side of the cab door. I looked out the window, the bright earth color of the desert sand reflecting the blinding rays of the sun. I unfolded the piece of paper I held in my hand:

Sure, I’ve been offered a great number of ‘assignments’ throughout my career, but they usually don’t require me to just stop everything I’m doing and ride into the middle of nowhere. I caught the sight of the scar in the center of my hand, seeing all the haunting memories that came along with it as well. I ran my fingers through my shoulder length brown hair. I really should change that color. Brown. It’s so boring.

The cab driver turned his head, his sunglasses tipped so I can see just the top of his eyes. “Almost there, sir,” he announced, his deep and stiff voice drumming in my ear. This guy gave me the creeps; he didn’t look like your typical cab driver. I forced the paranoia out of my mind, closing my eyes to blindfold me from the world I was living in. Oh, how I hate this world.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the car stop. “Sir, we have arrived.” The cab driver had to repeat himself before he received my attention. I gave the driver two hundred korëks. That should be enough for the ride, if this cab driver didn’t know what he was doing, but unfortunately, he did. “I was promised five hundred,” he said. I gave him two hundred more, which was all I had, and what was left of the box of cigarettes in my pocket.

Before the driver could protest, I stepped out of the taxi, my suitcase in one hand, my sunglasses in the other.

It was a dusty town, a setting to an old fashioned western movie. The cab had stopped right in the middle of it, in front of a run-down tavern. I made my way toward the place, my feet crunching the rough gravel beneath me. I set my briefcase along side the tavern door frame and walked inside, the squeaky bar door announcing my arrival.

Of course everyone in the tavern had to stop what they were doing to look at me. I had hoped that a tall dark stranger wearing a long and heavy trenchcoat wasn’t too intimidating for them, but I guess I was wrong. I looked around the dimly lit room, the smell of tobacco filling my nostrils. One of the men ran his hand through his dark oily hair shooting a fierce glance in my direction. I put on the sunglasses I was holding. It was hard to see now, but I figured my wandering eyes would only add to my already strange appearance. I walked over to the bar, humming the tune to a long forgotten memory. I kept my eyes on the card players and drunks around me, not liking the unwelcome atmosphere I felt. I took a seat in one of the worn-down stools at the bar. The bartender, a big and gruffly-looking man with a well greased apron came up to me. With a chewed toothpick hanging out the side of his mouth he asked, “What d’ya want?”

“A glass of water would be much appreciated.” He walked along the bar, retrieving the glass and filling it. When he set the glass down in front of me, I asked him,” So tell me, s’there anything interesting going on around these parts?”

“Not that I know of.” It was the same old “play it cool” routine that I’ve seen a thousand times. “Enjoy your water,” the bartender said as he disappeared into a doorway behind the bar. I sat there for a moment, thinking if I should really be taking a risk for someone that I don’t know. Why am I out here? I have a lot more clients that need me, and many of which are closer to my office. I guess it was the scrawled note that I received that caught my interest. It seemed so urgent, so important to whoever this person was who wrote it.

The loud squeak of the tavern doors were heard again. I turned my head to see who it was, but I couldn’t make out his face with the sun shining so brightly behind him. He wore a cowboy hat, a long trenchcoat, and brightly shined boots. He held in his right hand a briefcase that much resembled mine. I checked the doorway where mine stood just to make sure he didn’t steal it. The dark silouhette just stood there, making the same observations that I had made when I first walked in. He walked over toward me, the stomping of his boots shaking the beaten floorboards beneath him. He took a seat two stools away from me at the bar.

The bartender made his way through the doorway and faced the stranger. He was about to say something to him when the stranger turned his head just as a sudden explosion came at the exit of the tavern. I heard men scream as they were blasted out of their seats from the impact. Before I could assess the situation, I jumped behind a table that had been knocked over by the explosion. I peeked up the rim, trying to get a look at what just happened. The rising dust clouded my vision. I heard the rapid blast of gunshots as well as a pair of heavy boots running towards me.

Before I realized, the man with the cowboy hat was kneeling beside me, one shiny silver pistol in each hand. He looked straight at me. His eyes glinted a fiery red, his nose was straight as an arrow. His chin was strong, and clean, without a stubble or hair to be found. He yelled out something to me, but I couldn’t make out what it was from all the gun-blasting around us. He tried again, this time he gestured, with his two guns, toward the back door behind the bar.

I nodded to acknowledge as I hurriedly made my way behind the bar. I saw the bartender, sprawled out lifeless on the floor in a pool of blood. The stranger stood up from behind the table and shot a round of bullets at whoever was shooting at us. He jumped over the bar counter and joined me in making an escape. I was a miracle that he didn’t get hit, I thought. We made our way through the door and slammed it shut behind us.

To be continued...