The moonless sky hid the small community, it was as if it didn't exist. The darkness also managed to camouflage a figure slipping into an upstairs room of a medium sized bungalow. Once inside he switched on his night vision and deftly crept to a bedroom down the hall. He grinned to himself as he pulled out his knife. Without a second glance he slit the sleeping persons throat, cursing silently at getting blood on his gloves. As quickly and quietly as he came, he left.

Once at his house he burned his clothes and gloves, even his shoes, in a tin he kept in his garage for these occasions.

He took a scalding shower and scrubbed vigorously to get any lint or evidence off.

Next he went to the phone.

"It's done."

"Good job, but I've got another one. You'll enjoy this one. Come visit in the morning. I'll get Matty to fix you some breakfast."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're a good boy." He hung up the phone.

Daine wrapped his night vision equipment in tissue paper and then in a shoe box, finally storing it on the top shelf in the linen closet. Turning around he found his dog staring at him.

"I know, I know, I'll pick you up some new treats next time I go out, but right now it's three in the morning and I have to be at Mr. Chemmons at seven."

He rubbed her head and climbed the stairs to the bedroom.


"You've got to be joking! Sir, I don't do savings, I kill people."

Chemmons slid an envelope across the table. "That's last nights pay as well as a quarter of what you'll get when you bring her to me, still living."

Daine eyed the package before picking it up and opening the top fold. Flipping through the bills, he realized couldn't turn down this offer, not if this was only a quarter. This was worth two hits alone. "And why am I to retrieve her?" He knew he shouldn't ask. He normally doesn't, but something made him too curious.

"She is an heiress. She is not married. Therefor if she happen to accidentally die, her money would go into the wrong hands."

"Why doesn't she just marry?"

"She doesn't know what she is. She is only eighteen."

"So, where do I find her?"

"That's your job, isn't it?" Chemmons asked him pointedly, "You bring my granddaughter back to me, you hear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Eat your pancakes, you are too thin."

"How many fat hit men work for you, Sir?"

Chemmons laughed. "I only use one and he's as skinny as a stick."

Daine smiled and shook his head. The pancakes were very good, but then, he expected them to be so.