Battling Windmills

It was the last cigarette in Valentine's pack, he inhaled deeply feeling the burn in his throat and trying to focus on that in an effort to quench the anger that felt like hot steel replacing his ribcage. Three of his seven bodyguards who stood a few steps behind him suppressed the urge to take a step back as the man exceeded voltages of wrath from all around him.

"…They were supposed to be here," he exhaled the words out along with the smoke. 

His informer flinched at the soft tone the huge man was using. It sounded eerier than the way he was shouting an hour ago over the phone for some strange reason and he truly wished they could go back to all the shouting instead of what he was dealing with right now.

"I-I-I was told that they were here…P-P-Please... Believe me!" The informer begged for the tenth time.