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Back Dead of Winter Save as PDF
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SLOANE. We need assurances—further assurances—that—[Clears throat.] I’m sorry—would you have a tissue and a bottle of water?

QUINN. The fuck’s wrong with you, man? I don’t need no flu up in—

SLOANE. Cigarette smoke. I walked through a cloud of it coming into this building. Isn’t smoking illegal within twenty-five feet of a building? A municipal building, no less? [Succession of coughs.]

[Indeterminate sound. Nose being blown.]

SLOANE. Thank you.

QUINN. Better?

SLOANE. Yes. Much. Thank you. [Unintelligible] just for you.

QUINN. I know. You don’t think I know? The right people are getting their cut. Course I might need a bit more cheddar in the short term to guarantee success in the long—

SLOANE. Is that perhaps because of your ex-wife? Alimony demands?

QUINN. The fuck you talkin’ about?

SLOANE. You no longer have to worry about that, Councilman Quinn—

[Unintelligible sounds. Paper rustling.]

QUINN. Jesus—oh, God—what the—what the fuck did—

SLOANE. You’ll be getting a call from the Dallas police. Probably within the next six to twelve hours. Nothing more than a courtesy, since you, of course, are here and she was, of course, there.

QUINN. You—

SLOANE. Unfortunately, the word of a man—any man—is no longer the coin of the realm, wouldn’t you agree? Certain . . . precautions . . . must be taken. Guarantees of timely, precise performance—

QUINN. This ain’t mine, man. It ain’t on me! You can’t—I didn’t—

SLOANE. Oh, of course you didn’t. How could you have? Unless—Well, the talents of a third-rate hit man can always be acquired via the dark net. You don’t even have to be in the same city! Isn’t that amazing? And like the proverbial elephant, the Internet never forgets. Do you understand what I’m saying, Councilman Quinn? I’d like to make quite sure I’m understood.

[Long pause. Mumbling.]

QUINN. You mothafuckas.

SLOANE. What are we asking of you? Barely anything! The deletion of certain building permits and records, vendor applications, tax-roll exclusions. Essentially, we’re simply asking you—paying you—to do something you’ve already proven to be quite skilled at! And at the end of your service, you’ll be a very wealthy man.

QUINN. Did—did she—

SLOANE. What? Suffer? I assume her only suffering was being married to you, Councilman. No, we’re not in the business of making people needlessly suffer. We’re in the business of solving elite-level locational problems and providing safe, reliable, luxury residential solutions. [Phone rings.] Excuse me, Councilman. Hello? [Pause.] Yes, I will meet you there. Yes. Yes, everything’s taken care of. Of course. [Pause.] I really must be going. Shall I leave the picture of—

QUINN. No! Get that shit outta here!