The Heart of an Assassin Read Online Free Page A

ball, causing it to pop up high. Tyler looked up
and saw it heading his way. Everyone began to shout to Tyler to
move back.
    This was it. He was going to be the hero.
Easy catch, easy out, thought Tyler as he moved back slightly and
extended his glove to meet the ball.
    The ball started to descend toward Tyler’s
glove. Tyler extended as far as he could to meet the oncoming ball
when suddenly a hand stuck out in front of him and caught the ball
just above Tyler’s glove. “Hey! What the hell!” shouted Tyler.
    He turned to see a tall stranger wearing a
black trench coat and dark glasses smiling down at him. “Sorry,
son, but it was going to hit me,” replied the stranger.
    “Interference!” shouted Jimmy.
    “No way,” answered Charlie.
    “He was going to catch it,” remarked the
stranger.
    “Do over!” shouted most of the other
kids.
    The stranger handed the ball to Tyler,
stating that he would’ve caught the ball. “Yeah, whatever,” Tyler
replied. “I know I would’ve caught the ball. You should have
stepped aside and let me catch the ball, mister.”
    “Sorry, kid. Really, I am sorry,” responded
the stranger.
    Before the stranger moved on, he turned to
Tyler and asked if he knew where 224 St. Nicholas was. “Hey, that’s
my building,” replied Tyler as he pointed down the street. “Look
for a fat man sitting on the steps with a gray shirt.”
    The stranger moved on down the block toward
his destination, smiling at the kids as he walked past them. “Hey,
guys, he would’ve caught the ball, honest,” he interjected.
    “Yeah right,” replied Charlie.
    After some time, the boys decided to let it
go and play another time. They moved down the block toward the
building next to Tyler’s, where they parked themselves on the
stoop, listening to the Beatles sing, “I Want To Hold Your Hand”
from a nearby opened window.
    The eleven-year-olds were a true mix of New
York City’s melting pot. Jimmy Johnson and Rick Thompson were
black, Tyler Santiago and Adam Ruiz were Hispanic, Davie Costanzo
was Italian, and Charlie McNally was Irish. They all attended PS125
and had been friends for more than two years.
    On the next stoop sat Fat Man, one of the
tenants occupying an apartment in the building where Tyler and his
mom lived. He was a six foot tall Italian, weighing 220 plus
pounds, who enjoyed sitting on the stoop, watching the folks go by
while listening to songs by Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Tony
Bennett on his portable radio.
    Across the street was the ever-present Uncle
Ted sitting on his stoop at 223 St. Nicholas. Uncle Ted, who was
also Italian, was about five foot nine, weighing around 190 pounds.
No matter how hot it was, you could count on Uncle Ted to be
wearing a smart jacket over a collarless shirt with matching pants
and shoes. The kids liked him ’cause every once in a while he would
treat them to ice cream. Although he was, for the most part, an
introvert, he had a warm smile for everyone.
    After a short time, the stranger appeared
with the super of Tyler’s building. It seemed as if he rented the
only apartment available, the one across from Tyler and his mom.
The stranger walked down the steps and turned right, heading up the
block and passing the kids.
    “Hey, mister, you moving in?” asked
Jimmy.
    “Maybe,” he replied.
    They looked after the tall stranger as he
walked away. “Hey, he’s a cool-looking dude,” remarked Davie.
    “Bet you he knows karate and kung fu,” Jimmy
added.
    “Yeah, he’s probably an undercover cop and is
looking for you for trying to steal second base,” Charlie remarked
to Rick. They all laughed out loud.
    For a couple of hours the kids hung around
and discussed the important issues surrounding their lives, such as
the newest DC or Marvel comic books, or if Superman could beat the
Hulk. All were hot and wishing for the ice cream truck, and praying
that Uncle Ted would again foot the bill. As if a prayer was
answered, they heard the music