Marty rang the doorbell and waited and the door opened. A big guy let him in and followed the big guy down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway was another room and the big guy opened the door and Marty walked in and there and sat Kasemeyer behind the desk. Kasemeyer said, "Sit down." Marty sat in a chair in front of the desk and the big guy closed the door and w as gone, but not very far away. Kasemeyer didn't look like much but he was everything, if anything at all was everything, not only in that city but in many cities and some countires too.
"Marty," Kasemeyer asked, "how long you been a hitman?"
"A long time, sir and I've never been nailed. I've always had a pigeon to take the rap."
"What have been some of your hits?"

"You know as well as I do, sir: both Kennedys, Martin Luther King, many, many others."
"Didn't you hit Huey Long?"
"I don't go back that far, sir, that hit was carried out by my father."
"You've got a hell of a family, Marty."
"Thank you, sir."
"Cigar?" Kasemeyer asked.
"No, thank you, sir, I don't smoke."

"Kasemeyer threw a cigar at Marty, it hit him on the chest, then fell to the floor.
"Pick that up. Unwrap it. Light it. Smoke it. I want you to smoke it."
Marty picked up the cigar, peeled off the cellophane, bit off the end, stuck it into his mouth.
"I don't have a light, sir."
Kasemeyer pressed a button on his desk. The door opened and the big guy came in.
"Percy," Kasemeyer said to the big guy, "light the man up."
"Him or his cigar, Mr. Kasemeyer?"
"Just the cigar at this moment."

Kasemeyer got up and readied a cigar of his own as Percy furfilled his duty.
"Now, fat boy, come on over here and light mine."
"Yes, Mr. Kasemeyer."
Percy came around to the desk and lit Kasemeyer's cigar.
"Thanks, fat boy, now stick around."

"Yes, Mr. Kasemeyer."
Kasemeyer leaned back and took a good draw on his cigar. He exhaled.
"Ah..."
Then he looked at Marty
"You like your...