Hitman Anders and the Meaning of It All by Jonas Jonasson Page A

I’m placing my life in Jesus’s hands. I want the payment for my last job, the one I did yesterday, and I’ll give the money to the Red Cross. Then we’ll go our separate ways, as they say.”
    â€œBut . . . you can’t do that,” said the priest. “I won’t allow—”
    â€œWon’t allow? Like I said, I’m not going to beat people up anymore. But I’m sure Jesus would think it was fine to make two exceptions—you and the receptionist.”

CHAPTER 14
    T hen followed a night and a morning in which the priest got no sleep to speak of. As the sun began to shine through the blinds, she realized she had no choice but to wake the receptionist and confess the facts: she had accidentally caused Hitman Anders to find Jesus, and Jesus, in turn, had caused Hitman Anders to give up alcohol and beating people up for money.
    Effective immediately.
    Starting now, the only people on Earth whose heads he would even think of harming a hair on were theirs. And harm them he would, if they didn’t acquiesce to his demands.
    â€œHis demands?” wondered the bleary receptionist.
    â€œWell, we owe him thirty-two thousand kronor, and he wants us to pay up so he can give it to the Red Cross. I think that was it.”
    The receptionist sat up. He felt an urge to become very angry with someone, but he wasn’t sure whom. Grandfather, the priest, Hitman Anders, and Jesus were closest to hand. Yet he knew that there was no point.
    Might as well get up, have breakfast, stand at his goddamned reception desk, and think logically to see where that might lead.
    So their assault-and-battery business no longer had anyone to do the assaulting and battering, which meant they could not expect any further income. His revenge on Grandfather had been interrupted—unless Hitman Anders changed his tune. For that to happen, theywould have to guide him away from God, Jesus, and the Bible, the trio that was such a bad influence on him, and move him back towards alcohol, pubs, and kicking his heels.
    Per Persson barely had time to convey these thoughts to the priest before the former hitman arrived—at least two hours earlier than ever before.
    â€œGod’s peace be with you,” he said, instead of asking for beer and sandwiches as had been his habit until now.
    It couldn’t be easy to go from being an alcoholic to a teetotaler in the span of one day. The receptionist suspected that an inner battle was raging in Hitman Anders, even if Jesus was still holding his own. This led Per Persson to launch a plan as hasty as it was treacherous. Hasty and treacherous plans were usually the priest’s specialty, so the receptionist soon felt extra proud when the outcome was as intended.
    â€œI understand you’ll have a cheese sandwich, as usual, but surely you’ll want communion rather than beer, as one who walks with Jesus.”
    Hitman Anders understood the part about the sandwich, but not the rest. He had never seen a church from the inside and, as luck would have it, he had no idea what communion was.
    â€œHalf a bottle, I’m guessing, since it’s still morning,” said Per Persson, placing some red wine next to the plastic-wrapped sandwich.
    â€œBut I don’t drink alcohol.”
    â€œI realize that—anything but communion wine is out of the question. The blood of Jesus. Would you like me to remove the plastic from Jesus’s body for you?”
    The priest realized what the receptionist was trying to do and came to his aid. “We didn’t quite get that far in our Bible study,” she said. “But I’m sure, Hitman Anders, that you take your faith seriously and don’t want to neglect consuming the body and blood of Jesus. As is becoming more and more common in our secular world.”
    Hitman Anders had no idea what a secular world was, and he didn’t understand the connection between Jesus and plonk—but hethought he