The Disappearist

Chapter Eleven: "An Assignment"

It was 3:29PM when Wil pulled up to Nicky's Diner. The Professor could not be seen through any of the windows — deliberately, Wil assumed — but he wasn't sure if showing up early was permissible. So Wil sat in his car until 7:57, then got out and walked in, having never seen The Professor enter the building.

When he entered, he glanced to the table where he'd met with the professor the night before, but it was unoccupied. Puzzled, Wil stood inside the front door of the diner, unsure of what to do; he'd simply assumed The Professor would be there waiting for him when he arrived, but this was not the case. So Wil took a step forward and tried to subtly cast an incognito visual sweep of the patrons of the diner, thinking perhaps The Professor had switched tables.

As Wil attempted to nonchalantly search the diner, another man entered the door behind him. Wil paid this man no attention until he entered the right corner of Wil's peripheral vision. Out of reflex, Wil intriguingly swung his head around toward the man; out of the corner of Wil's eye, this bald man — who had a goatee and wore sunglasses and a pork pie hat — made Wil think Walter White had just entered the diner. And when Wil gave the man a genuine look, he couldn't help but wonder if this man was deliberately attempting to dress like Walter White's "Heisenberg" alter-ego from Breaking Bad. The resemblance was uncanny.

"The Chemist, I presume?" Wil said flippantly to the man next to him.

"Excuse me?" the man replied.

"Nothing," Wil said. "Thought you were someone else." Wil's attempt at his own personal inside joke fell on its face. He assumed a contract killer who used chemicals to kill people might have an overly-dramatic sense of irony and would dress like "Heisenberg" on purpose. But evidently, this wasn't the case. Maybe this man just looked like Heisenberg.

Without another word, the Walter White doppelganger turned and left the diner.

Wil turned and watched the man walk into the dark parking lot until he was no longer visible; upon turning toward the diner's interior again, he found him face-to-face with The Professor.

"Let's sit," The Professor said as he turned and walked toward his table.

Wil followed.

When the two men sat down, a waitress brought over what appeared to be a mixed alcoholic drink — a gin & tonic, from the looks of it — but he also saw that this diner did not serve alcohol, nor did it have drinks on its menu. However, Wil elected to not act surprised and simply wait for The Professor to speak.

"My associate says you're not wired," The Professor said, "so it's good to see you aren't unsavory."

"Unsavory?" Wil asked.

"I can't be too careful," The Professor said. "Local law enforcement is more criminals in it than my organization, but I never know about the Feds." He paused. "I own the locals. We have an understanding."

Wil did his best to take this all in-stride; he simply nodded.

"And you," The Professor continued, "call yourself The Disappearist."

"Yes," Wil replied.

"What is your real name?" The Professor asked.

Wil paused. He wasn't sure where The Professor was going with this, but he also didn't want to simply offer-up information to this man who ordered murders for a living. "Is that important?" Wil finally said, trying not to sound uneasy.

"Are you assuming I don't already know everything about you?" The Professor replied, answering Wil's question with a question.

This made Wil extremely uncomfortable because if The Professor knew the details of Wil's identity, he would also know about Wil's wife, who was a federal law enforcement agent. The room suddenly got very small; Wil tried to swallow, but his mouth was suddenly very dry. "Well, I—" Wil said, trying not to stammer, "I try not to make assumptions.

"That's wise," The Professor replied with an unchanging facial countenance.

The two men sat at a table for four, directly across from one another, both men next to the empty chair by the wall. Without breaking eye-contact with Wil, The Professor reached down to the empty seat on his right and picked up a large manila envelope, placing it gently on the table. The Professor did not have this envelope when the two men approached this table — the envelope must have already been placed there.

"Here," The Professor said. "Your first assignment. $10,000 for your first. The quality of your work will determine your future earnings. Understood?"

"Understood," Wil replied, trying to go with the flow.

"This one is local," The Professor said, taking his first drink of gin. "Do not open that until you are alone."

"Understood," Wil replied.

The Professor gave Wil an uncomfortable look, as if to say, Why are you still sitting there? Taking this cue, Wil stood from the table without a word, just as he'd seen a man do the night before, and he left the diner with his manila envelope.

The meeting was over in less than five minutes.

That's how long it took to seal someone's fate.

Less than five minutes.