Thank you for meeting me here today, Boris. I appreciate it,” Dimitri said. “I have always looked up to you ever since you were assigned as my mentor when I was first recruited into the family business.”

“You have come a long way since then, Dimitri, from a wet behind-the-ears eager beaver to one of the best in the business,” Boris said. “You were the ideal student, and like a sponge you absorbed your lessons well and honed your skills to perfection. I have never seen better. You are a natural.”

“Boris, you flatter me,” Dimitri said. “I learned from the master, my friend. I owe everything I am to you. And that is why this assignment is so difficult, so painful.”

“This is the way of the world, Dimitri. The passing of the torch,” Boris said. “My hair is gray, my skin is wrinkled, my hand is not as steady as it once was, my vision not as clear, my hearing not as acute, and my body not as strong. It is time and I can think of no one better than you to carry it out.”

Boris stood up, took a couple of paces forward toward the water’s edge, and then moved to his right so that he was standing directly in front of the younger man, his back toward him. “Make it clean and quick,” he said.

“Of course, тесть,” Dimitri said. But before Dimitri could lift his gun and get off a shot, Boris spun around and shot Dimitri right between the eyes.

“I was wrong, зять, now is not quite yet the time,” Boris said to his son-in-law.

Written for Mike Jackson’s Only Murders In My Mind Weekly Writing Prompt. Image credit: no attribution.