Anton had happened to be walking along the sidewalk; he was carrying his air tank with the hose looped about his arm. He definitely cut a strange figure as he moved in his denim attire, his possibly Latino face set in an eternal expression of indifference that was downright unnerving. He had just happened along next to Bela’s vehicle as it drew up to the light and had set his dark eyes over, noticing at once that it was her. The assassin stepped up to the car and without a word but a single knock, climbed into the passenger side as if it were just normal for a man to get into another’s vehicle. He set the tank in the floorboard and carefully untangled his hose from his arm. Through all of this he said nothing, sinking back into the leather cushion of the seat with his arms settled in his lap. Finally he spoke, that deep accented voice addressed her “Bela..” he stated in his manner of saying hello but again he was silent as the grave.