If anyone was going to put Harry out of his misery, it might as well be now. He opened his eyes when he heard the tiny click of the lock on his front door. He was lying on his couch, still fully clothed, all in black. In front of him was a low table with an empty bottle of duty-free scotch, a heavy, empty glass tumbler, and an ashtray that had overflowed, ash and brown butts spread across the surface. That was all the furniture in the room. He thought about getting to his feet, but his head hurt, a lot. The front door crashed open, and footsteps rumbled down the short hallway. Two heavies in suits entered the room. They stopped when they saw him laying there, looking back up at them from the couch. It seemed to unnerve them. The first one spoke. “Harry Vee?”
“Who should I say is asking?”
“Get up Harry, you’ve got a date.”
“Well, it’s a bit short notice. Why don’t you wait while I check my diary?” Harry watched them standing above him. They hadn’t expected this, clearly. The second one was getting impatient.
“Don’t give us any trouble, Harry. Get up, let’s go.”
Harry chuckled to himself, but stopped because it hurt his head. This was giving them trouble? He started to swing his legs off of the couch. Waves of nausea washed through him. “I’m afraid I might have to take a rain check, boys. Seem to have picked up something of a bug.”
The second heavy took a step forward. He looked like he could handle himself. “Easy way or hard way, Harry, it’s all the same to me.”
Harry started to stand and stumbled, putting out a hand for support. The heavy instinctively grabbed his wrist, and in a second Harry had locked his arm behind his back, shoving him towards the wall. He went for the other guy, but was far too slow. A heavy fist crashed into his jaw, slamming him down onto the small table, sending the bottle flying. Harry grabbed at the glass for a weapon, but froze as he found an automatic pistol in his face. The heavy looked down at him with a sneering grin. “Time to go, Harry. Now.”