I'm led to a large hanger. There are crop dusting planes by the edges and a large cargo carrier, along with a small, sleek, and gleaming jet inside.
A short, pudgy woman sits at a table on a Persian carpet in an upholstered chair. It’s like a movie set with no walls that has been created for this meeting.
She's wearing a long maroon dress with a high neck and a slightly ruffled collar. Her graying hair is pinned back into an elegant coif. A black cane with a silver dog on it is hooked onto the arm of her chair.
She doesn't get up as we approach. In fact, she doesn’t look at us at all.
I glance around while I wait to be noticed. There are at least ten guys here with automatic rifles. None of them look at me either. I don’t even register as a threat to them, I guess.
'Don't step on the carpet,' the American with the gun says. 'Wait until she speaks to you.'
I nod. Kormak was like this, too. He enjoyed little power games.
So, I stand, and I wait, staring straight ahead and not even looking at the woman in front of me. A good little soldier.
She sips from a bone China teacup with pink, painted roses on it.
It's a few minutes before she finally puts the cup down on a tiny round wooden table next to her and her eyes land on me.
'You are Eric Blake,' she says. It's not a question.
'Yes, ma'am,' I say anyway.
'And your father, he is in Richmond Penitentiary for theft.' She snorts derisively.
'Yes, ma'am,' I say again.
'Your debt has been sold to me.'
She doesn't look at me again. Instead, she stares down at the rings on her fingers and then blows on her nails, red and long, the same shade as her lipstick.
'I am told you have skills that may be useful to me. We shall see. That man there, Eduardo. He will give you alocation. You will clear it for me. If you are successful, I will not have your tongue removed from your mouth.'
I don't swallow hard the way that I want to.
'Yes, ma'am,' I say again, not giving her an ounce of fear.
She looks me up and down and then snorts again.
'Go,' is all she says.
I'm prodded with the gun again, and I'm given a slip of paper before I'm forced out of the hanger. I don't ask any questions, instinctively knowing that she will not give me any answers, and this is some kind of performance test.
I leave the airstrip, taking a look at the note as I drive. I know where the address is. It's in a shitty little neighborhood not far from where I grew up, mostly full of crack houses these days.
I drive slowly, not drawing any attention to myself, and when I get there, I park on the next street over.
I slink through the alleyway at the back of the house, coming through the shadows directly into the backyard where I find an old, rusted jungle gym and a broken swing from when this neighborhood used to be better. The fence has half fallen, so it's easy to get to the house.
My heart's pounding. She wants me to clear it. That means everyone has to die.
I go in through the door at the back, finding it unlocked, and put the silencer on my weapon as I go.
As I pass through the empty living room, I grab a pillow off the dirty, frayed couch that looks like it's seen about ten years too many. Ignoring the questionable stains on the gray cushion, I carry it with me.
The first person I see is a man staggering down the hall. He doesn't see me as he goes into the can, and I hear him taking a leak. I come up behind him, I put the gun to his head, and I give him two quick taps from the doorway,lunging forward to grab him before he falls and alerts anyone to my presence.
I leave him on the floor of the bathroom and close the door to hide the body.
