The Fixer. John Stewart
“What do you want? You knew this shit was gonna happen. You nodded at me across the cell knowing those two assholes came to my cell door to threaten me. Your nod was telling me that you weren’t going to do a damn thing to stop it. In fact, you wanted it, didn’t you?”
The guard stuck out his hand to shake hands. Mark looked at his hand and took it with the cuffed hand and shook it.
“Thanks for saving my guard in there. You may not remember it, but they probably would have killed him if you hadn’t stepped towards them. Sorry my guys didn’t get in there before you got hit so hard. Hope you heal up quick.”
“No problem, I guess. I don’t remember that at all.”
“He’s pretty grateful. He will probably come by and see you. Try to be nice to the guy, he thought he was a dead man.”
Mark held up his hand to shake again. “Did I kill the guy you wanted?”
The guard took his hand and shook it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He turned and walked out of the hospital. Mark closed his eyes and slept. It was the second day in there that he got a new visitor.
Chapter 3
The Visitor
Mark woke up to a nurse setting a breakfast tray in front of him. He smiled and thanked her as she walked away. The swelling in his eye had gone down, and now it was becoming a nasty black eye and bruised cheek. His teeth still hurt from being kicked. Every breath he took felt like knives in his side.
He ate the eggs and hard biscuit. Mark laughed as he picked up the half piece of bacon. He took a bite and regretted it. The bacon was cold and tasted like it was made mostly of cardboard that maybe the real bacon was shipped in. He spit the piece into his hand and dropped it on the plate.
Mark heard the door click and open. A tall guy in a suit came into the area, showing the guard credentials. The guard pointed at Mark. The man turned and looked straight at him. He turned back and thanked the guard.
Mark pushed the food tray away and drank the last of his watered-down orange juice. The man was now walking his way. Mark thought, this guy must be his court-appointed attorney. He couldn’t believe the warden was seriously going to push the manslaughter charges. Mark was serving a life sentence, so it really didn’t matter. He knew he would never serve the entire sentence anyway. Eventually somebody would get lucky. Eventually he knew, he would feel the sharp end of a shiv or the repeated heel hitting his face as he lost consciousness. It was the life he was living in prison.
The man walked up and stuck out his hand. “I’m Troy Place. How are you feeling today, Mr. Farmer?”
Mark’s right hand was still handcuffed to the bed, but he reached up and shook the man’s hand. “I’m better than I was yesterday. Who are you, my attorney?”
The man smiled and pulled over the chair and sat down. “No, I’m no attorney. I work for the government.”
Mark shook his head. “This is where I say ‘No, thanks.’ I can’t imagine what you want with me, but my plate is full.”
Troy smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t even know what I’m offering you. What if it was a Get Out of Jail Free Card.”
“Doubt it. What did you say your name was again?”
“Troy.”
“What agency did you say you work for?”
“I didn’t. It’s not important for our discussion.”
Mark’s eyebrows went up. “So NSA or CIA then. What could you possibly want from me?”
“I work for an agency that deals with multiple groups. It really doesn’t matter. You matter though, Mr. Farmer. The government invested a lot of money in you during your military career. It’s a shame for that to be wasting away in a place like this.”
Mark sat up a little, having his interest piqued now. “I agree. Let’s get these cuffs off and get the hell out of here.”
Troy laughed. “You look like you need to get out of here. The warden told me you killed two guys yesterday. What was that about?”
“I was defending myself. There’s a group of neo-Nazi skinheads in here that have decided I am their personal punching bag. I guess they got mad because I wouldn’t join their little hate group.”
Troy nodded. “How’s that working out for them so far?”
Mark smiled. “Not so good. Their guys keep getting hurt. Yesterday they got dead.”
“Did you know that one of the guys you killed yesterday was linked to a crime that is still unsolved? They think he killed a senator’s daughter in a failed kidnapping job. He did kill a cop in the chase. That’s what got him in here.”
“Let me guess, Tattoo guy, kinda big?”
“Yep. Allegedly, he and a few of his buddies kidnapped a senator’s daughter and had plans to ask for millions in ransom. The guy you killed was supposed to hide the girl until the money was received. He screwed up because she fought, and he broke her neck. They couldn’t give proof of life, so the deal went bad. They threw her body off a bridge. The cops pursued them, and he killed a cop in the chase. They never had any proof on the killing of the daughter. They never found her body.”
“Interesting, the head guard here wanted me to hurt that guy. He wouldn’t admit it, but when the guy threatened me, he saw it. He nodded at me after the threat. He wanted it taken care of.”
“And you did. No jury, no expensive trial. Justice served. How does that make you feel knowing that now?”
“Like I got used.”
“He was a scumbag. He would have killed you if he could. You did the right thing. Maybe you should get paid for that.”
Mark leaned away from the guy a bit and cocked his head. “What are doing here, Mr. Place? What is it you want from me? Got somebody else in here you want dead?”
Troy smiled. “No. But there is a real need out there for someone like you.”
Mark shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m not gonna be a dog on a leash to do some government spook’s dirty work. Don’t you guys have plenty of wet work guys for that?”
Troy laughed. “No, we don’t. I’m not saying we don’t have people we know that will do things like that if we need them to from time to time. No questions asked. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here then? Stop beating around the bush. What’s your deal?”
Troy sat back in the chair. “We need guys like you for special projects, if you will. Things that get beyond what we can do legally.”
“An assassin. That’s what you want.”
“Not an assassin. A fixer of broken things. Kind of like what you did concerning your fiancée. That guy needed to be stopped. Who knows how many people he killed before you stopped him. The laws and rules that police departments have to live by sometimes get in the way of just ending the problem. That goes for drug dealers, terrorists, dirty cops, and people that pose a threat to the US. Sometimes we just need a fixer.”
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, Mark, what are you doing here? You waiting for someone to kill you because you feel guilt over the guy you killed?”
“No, I don’t feel any guilt whatsoever over Leo Sparks. He was a piece of shit and got what he deserved. I shouldn’t have gone to jail for that.”
“We agree. Why don’t you come work for us and take care of people just like Leo Sparks for others in the world. Be the hero that you are.”
“There was nothing heroic about killing