Last Conversation

The Duchess has a visitor -- someone she hasn't seen in a long, long time. The last time they met, they were trying to kill each other. Now what?

   “Hello, Alex. How’s the leg?” A man of medium build stood in my doorway, a smirk filling his face.
I rose to my feet. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
   “I am good at what I do. I simply called your butler saying I had information and he let me in. Of course, he wasn’t there when we met.”
    “Of course he wasn’t. Otherwise he would have killed you when you shot me the first time.”
    “Yes, about that. That was a mistake. I missed. The bullet should have found your heart and not your shoulder.”
    “I think of you every time I go to the gym.”
    “I thought of you every time the cops came knocking on my door.”
    “Why are you back? Did our last parting stir much sorrow in your heart?”
    He snorted. “Of course not. Alex, you never came through on our deal. I’m here to rectify that.”
    “It’s not Alex to you anymore. It’s Duchess Cilonde. You have lost the right to call me by anything but my title.”
   He bowed low in mockery. “Of course, Duchess. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    I took a step back. “What about when you shot me the second time? Was that a mistake too?”
    “No, that did what it was supposed to. You broke off the chase. It was sufficient.”
    “Of course it was. I think you missed, is all. You had a clean shot. By all means, your employer probably would have like it better if you had killed me outright.”
    “Yes, but I didn’t want to. You had things I wanted.”
    “I remember, that tracker and code. How much did you get for it once you pried it from my bodyguard’s cold hands?”
    “$500,000, but that’s not important.”
    “What is important then?”
    “What is important is the fact that I’ve been sent to finish the job.” He pulled a gun out of his billowing coat.
   “You know, for the last ten years, I’ve gotten in the first hand. Do you really expect that I’ll just lay down and die?”
   “I don’t know. My employer has waited for a long time to see you dead.”

   “Yes, I didn’t think they’d even wait this long. I expected you sixteen years ago. When you didn’t come, I thought they might have granted me reprieve. Apparently I was wrong.”
   He nodded. “Yes, you were wrong. I am here to fix that wrong.”
    “If I may, I would like to ask you one question.”
    “What would that be?” He was puzzled, but his professional demeanor wouldn’t let him show it.
   “Why did you not come for me earlier? I was waiting and ready. Are you so sure that you want to finish the job after all these years?”
   “Of course. Where would you like it? The head, to be quick? Or perhaps the heart, for an open casket?”
    “Do I have much of a choice?”
    “Not really. Goodbye, Duchess.”
    “Goodbye, Nash.”

   A gunshot rang out. When the smoke cleared, I gazed at the body of my would-be killer. “I told you I’d get the first hand,” I chided as I slipped my tiny revolver back into my sleeve.

Author's Note

The formatting was an issue, but I think it's mostly fixed. Comments on the dialogue and the back-and-forth argument are appreciated!