Razzag laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I ask him.
“Oh, I thought a clever man like you would’ve figured it out by now. We are not so different you and I.”
“Please, we’re nothing alike.”
“No? You torture me and call it a good time, just like me. You torture people because you enjoy it, also like me. You are one little mistake away from becoming me.”
I point my gun at his forehead and say, “I won’t become what you are, because I would never, ever, traffic people, let alone a kid, it doesn’t matter if a prime minister, a sheik or fucking GOD asks me to.” I pull the trigger without giving him time to respond.
Razzag's blood splatters and slides down the wall behind him. His eyes are still glistening, but just for a second.
The world is a little bit safer now that he is in our rearview mirror.
