There was nothing left to say. As I walked past him on the way out, I resisted the impulse to show him some sign of what I felt for him. For almost seven years, he had treated me as if I was his favored son.
Ko stood in the hallway, managing to look as if he was leaning against the wall. It appeared as if he was smiling. But Ko only smiled when he was sure someone else couldn’t.
“I can’t believe you’re walking away from this,” he said. “You know what will happen. I always knew you were weak, but I didn’t think you could spend so much time with him without learning a damn thing.”
I’d learned it was essential to treat Ko with a certain wary respect. I’d seen what happened to those who made the mistake of thinking otherwise. But I’d never liked him. I finally had my chance to speak my mind, knowing that the old man had given me a safe pass.
I moved my face to within inches of his unreadable expression.
“You came into this world ready to kill anything in your path,” I said. “What did you learn?”
“What did I learn from him?” he said. “Patience. He taught me to wait for the right moment.”
His hand disappeared inside his jacket as quickly as a small deadly snake. Then he slowly removed an object from his pocket.
I couldn't believe Ko would go against the old man. I tried to get ready.
But all he held in his hand was a cigar, a Montecristo, not five hours off the plan from Cuba.
“You should hurry in with that before it gets stale,” I said.