Free The First Assassin by John J. Miller

answer.
    Bennett shifted in his seat. “How was your journey?” he asked.
    “Agreeable, thank you,” came the reply. “The weather was fine too, and I have found the people of Charleston to be simply delightful.” He smirked. “Shall we set aside these meaningless pleasantries? They are distractions. I know who you are, and I think I know what you want.”
    The man spoke excellent English. Bennett had not been sure that he would. There was perhaps the slightest trace of a Spanish accent, but Bennett wondered whether he noticed it only because he was expecting it. Maybe it was not there at all. This man, at any rate, sounded like an American. From the North, he thought.
    “What do you know of me?” asked the old plantation owner.
    “Quite a lot, I suppose. You are Langston Bennett. You are one of the wealthiest men in the whole Southern part of the United—I mean, in South Carolina,” said the guest. “Forgive me.” He smirked again. “You own an enormous amount of land in the countryside and also keep this house in the city. You’ve spent time on my little island. Usted aprendió a hablar español . You were a supporter of Walker and Quitman and probably other filibusters as well. You have sent letters asking after me, and you have received responses recommending me for whatever job you have in mind.”
    “Your knowledge is comprehensive,” said Bennett.
    “A man in my line of work survives by staying well informed, Mr. Bennett.”
    “Then you must know what I want.”
    “I think I do, although it is not through any direct knowledge,” said the guest. “It is a matter of deduction.”
    “So what have you deduced?”
    “When a man like you meets with a man like me, there is generally only one thing he has on his mind. There is a certain kind of job he wants executed, and he wants it done by a professional. In your particular case, given your interests and recent events, I would guess that the job is a bit north of here.” He paused for a moment. “I would guess it’s in what you call the United States. Or at least what remains of it.” This time, he did not smirk.
    “You are an intelligent man.”
    “I am paid to be intelligent.”
    “My offer is an attractive one.”
    “You said it would be, and I believe you. That’s why I’m here.”
    “Why should I hire you rather than someone else?”
    “Because you need me.”
    “And why is that?”
    The visitor did not move. He did not even cast his eyes downward, Bennett observed. A less confident man would shift in his seat or look away, he thought. This fellow did neither. Bennett found himself liking his guest—or at least approving of him. It was true that the reports he had received from abroad gave his visitor high marks.
    “You need me because nobody else can do the job,” said the guest. “I am aware of the reports that others have considered doing what you are about to ask of me. Yet they were ruled by passion and therefore doomed to fail. You must understand that I do not care about your ultimate ends. I do not care what you hope to accomplish by employing me. I care only about the job I am given. That’s why I’m effective. I’m never desperate. I’m simply lethal.”
    Bennett absorbed this comment. He began to believe that he had found the man he had set out to find.
    “We want you to rid us of this meddlesome president.”
    “Right,” said the visitor. “Now give me a good reason to do this.”
    “You may know that I have no natural heir,” said Bennett.
    “Ever since I lost my two sons, I have searched for a worthy man to assume control of my properties after I am gone. In Tucker Hughes, I have found that man.”
    Bennett gestured to Hughes, who nodded his head at the visitor. Then Bennett rose and wobbled over to his desk. He opened a drawer and removed several documents. “This is a copy of my will,” he said when he returned. “Please, take a look at it.”
    The guest took the pages and scanned them. “As you can