Hank's younger brother, Mark, was a monkey-faced short guy. He had moved to Hank's old flat soon after Hank had died. I had already noticed that he was quick in his moves and somewhat eccentric. Mark came to open the door right after I had rung the bell. He wore nothing else but bunny slippers and a red jacket.
”Hi”, I said, but he just stared at me. I gave him the LP although there was a wall of disco music dancing its way out behind him. ”I must have loaned that from your brother ages ago”, I added and he blinked his eyes. I took it as a sort of breakthrough.
I was surprised - I hadn't expected him to say anything. For a man of his size, that voice was strangely loud and deep.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Good”, he said and slammed the door at my face. I was about to raise my voice and kick his door when he opened it again.
“Here. Have a nice day”, Mark continued talking like nothing had happened and gave me a CD. There was my name and a code on it. I looked at the code, 77-88-89, and smiled alone when Mark was gone. It was a message I had waited for a long time; it was a mark for me that I should contact as soon as possible to my real boss. There would be a gig for me in the new city. A gig for me and my special tools.