I must have fallen asleep at my desk.  I didn’t realize he was in the room until his hand closed over my mouth.  He was wearing a leather glove—a cheap one, but it had a distinctive smell.  Funny how I can still remember that smell . . .

When I started to yell, he put a gun to my temple, and let me tell you, that shut me up real fast.  You see, he’d come up behind me while I was asleep and I still had no idea who it was.  For all I knew, I was one misstep away from ending up face down in a ditch.  Stranger things have happened.

Anyway, he kept that pistol pushed right up against my head and moved his hand away very slowly.  “Keep your hands where I can see them and stand up,” he said.  Well, once I heard his voice it didn’t take much imagination to figure out who my unwelcome guest was.  It’s not smart to argue with the person holding a gun to your head, so I raised my hands and stood just like he said. 

He moved the gun away, but I heard the click as he removed the safety.  For a second I thought I was done for, but then I realized it was an empty gesture.  He’d just cocked the gun to show me who was boss.  He wouldn’t kill me here.  He had too much to lose . . .

“Turn around,” he said.  Once again, his tone left no room for argument.  I hope he didn’t see the fear in my eyes when I turned to face him.  It’s impossible to tell, though, because his face gave nothing away.  But then, I guess it wouldn’t.

I had to do something—say something to let him know that I wasn’t afraid of him—that he couldn’t treat me this way and get away with it.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  I growled.  Or something like that.

His face didn’t change.  Those eyes . . . his eyes were so cold.  I’ll never forget his response. 

He just said, “Balancing the scales.”