Hitman Anders and the Meaning of It All Read Online Free

Hitman Anders and the Meaning of It All
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. . Hitman Anders. Perhaps at a later date. At the moment I would rather discuss an envelope containing five thousand kronor that has just been delivered to the reception desk by a count.”
    â€œFive thousand?” said Hitman Anders. “It’s supposed to be ten! What did you do with the rest, you goddamned priest?” The bleary and hungover hitman glared at Johanna Kjellander.
    Per Persson, who wished to avoid a priesticide in his lobby, was quick to add anxiously that the count had asked them to mention that the five thousand was a partial payment since only half the job had been completed. He and the priest at his side were innocent messengers, he hoped Hitman Anders understood . . .
    But Johanna Kjellander took over again. “Goddamned priest” had rubbed her the wrong way.
    â€œShame on you!” she said, so sternly that Hitman Anders nearly did feel shame. She went on to say that he must certainly realize that she and the receptionist would never dream of taking his money. “We’re hard up, though—are we ever. And while we’re on the subject, I might as well ask, Hitman Anders, if you might consider loaning us one of those five lovely thousand-krona bills for a day or two. Or, even better, a week.”
    Per Persson was astounded. First the priest had wanted to helpherself to the money in Hitman Anders’s envelope without his knowledge. Then she’d had him on the verge of flushing red with shame for having accused her of that very thing. Now she was entering into a lending agreement with the hitman. Didn’t she have any survival instinct at all? Didn’t she realize that she was putting both of them in mortal danger? Curse the woman! He ought to shut her up before the hitman beat him to it with something more permanent.
    But, first of all, he had to try to fix the mess she had just made. Hitman Anders had taken a seat, possibly out of shock that the priest, who in his world presumably would simply have stolen his money, had just asked to borrow what she hadn’t had time to steal.
    â€œAs I understand it, Hitman Anders, you feel you’ve been tricked out of five thousand kronor. Is that correct?” said Per Persson, making an effort to sound fiscal.
    Hitman Anders nodded.
    â€œThen I must reiterate and emphasize that it was neither I nor Sweden’s perhaps strangest priest here who took your money. But if there’s anything—anything at all—I can do to aid you in this situation, don’t hesitate to ask!”
    â€œIf there’s anything I can do . . .” is the type of thing every person in the service industry likes to say but doesn’t necessarily mean. That made it all the more unfortunate that Hitman Anders took the receptionist at his word. “Yes, please,” he said, in a tired voice. “Please get me my missing five thousand kronor. That way I won’t have to beat you up.”
    Per Persson did not have the slightest desire to track down the count, the man who had threatened to do something so unpleasant to one of Per’s dearest body parts. Merely encountering that person again would be bad enough. But to ask him for money on top of that . . .
    The receptionist was already deeply troubled when he heard the priest say “Of course!”
    â€œOf course?” he repeated in terror.
    â€œGreat!” said Hitman Anders, who had just heard two of-courses in a row.
    â€œWhy, certainly we’ll help Hitman Anders,” the priest went on. “We here at the Sea Point Hotel are always at your service. For reasonable compensation, we are in all ways ready to make life simpler for anyone, from a murderer to a marauder. The Lord does not distinguish between people in that way. Or maybe he does, but let’s stick to the matter at hand: could we start by learning more about which ‘job’ we’re referring to here, and in which way it seems to have been only half completed?”
    At
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