Mendez

"So," drawled Mendez in a bored voice, "You let her get away."
"Yes sir," replied the bounty hunter stood before him awkwardly, "But-"
"I don't care about 'But'! 'But this, But that, But the other.' Enough of your excuses! You've run out of chances!" He put down his cane, which he had been moving from hand to hand throughout the conversation. It settled on the desk with a sharp clack.
Sliding something off the desk with a curious rattle, Mendez got up, and slowly walked, hands behind his back, around the bounty hunter. "Do you know, I wonder, the significance of your failure?" he asked. His voice sounded tired and weary, but there was an edge behind it which the hunter couldn't quite put his finger on. The politician spoke directly into his ear. "The significance not only for me, but also for yourself? What do you think will happen to your prospects now?"
"My reputation will become tarnished," the bounty hunter hazarded, "My employability will drop?"
"My dear friend," Mendez said, right behind him now, "You will not be employable at all." He put the gun he was holding to the man's head, and pulled the trigger. Then he stalked out of his office to find his secretary anxiously waiting for him just outside the door.
"Find me another bounty hunter," he ordered, "This one's defective. And for crying out loud, make them find that damn Marcus girl this time!"