11am. New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. Seedy bar.
"He went quietly I hope." Smoke filled the air. New Orleans still loves it's smoking. If you were in this business you were used to it anyway.
"Here is the package. It was within one of the tires." He set a small metal credit card on the bar.
"Gosh, here we are on the doorstep of World War III and the US is still hiding data in plastic strips. Amazing! Almost like they are too busy to care about their information because the bombs are more important." He coughs and takes a swig from his beer. Lots of beer in New Orleans. Ya gotta love a city that eats, breathes and sleeps with a bottle at it's mouth.
"So what do we do now?" He looked out the window. "I hate this place. The whole city smells like urine." He straightens his sleeves and arranges his tie.
"Well we have to get his son now. The guy obviously loved backup plans because his goddam son is a motherfucking killer too." He laughs, fat as fuck as he is. This guy enjoys his business, but it is not like he has options. Just another chink in the chain that forms international crime. Who knew where he was from, but did it matter? They were all pieces of shit.
"Let's get a nice ride this time."
"With Maurice at the helm? Right. You are lucky he does not ship you in a crate." Swig of the bottle.
"Whatever, give me the info."
"It is in your watch. Get the fuck out of here. If you don't like my city I do not want to be around your faggity ass." The fat guy turns back toward the bar.
"Fuck off chink. At least I can get laid."
"Guys don't count."
And with that he turns toward the door and motions to the car down the street. It would not take long to get to California, but who enjoys flying anymore. You do enough hours in the air and eventually it grinds into you, but killers have to make money too. Hence you do a lot of flying.
"He went quietly I hope." Smoke filled the air. New Orleans still loves it's smoking. If you were in this business you were used to it anyway.
"Here is the package. It was within one of the tires." He set a small metal credit card on the bar.
"Gosh, here we are on the doorstep of World War III and the US is still hiding data in plastic strips. Amazing! Almost like they are too busy to care about their information because the bombs are more important." He coughs and takes a swig from his beer. Lots of beer in New Orleans. Ya gotta love a city that eats, breathes and sleeps with a bottle at it's mouth.
"So what do we do now?" He looked out the window. "I hate this place. The whole city smells like urine." He straightens his sleeves and arranges his tie.
"Well we have to get his son now. The guy obviously loved backup plans because his goddam son is a motherfucking killer too." He laughs, fat as fuck as he is. This guy enjoys his business, but it is not like he has options. Just another chink in the chain that forms international crime. Who knew where he was from, but did it matter? They were all pieces of shit.
"Let's get a nice ride this time."
"With Maurice at the helm? Right. You are lucky he does not ship you in a crate." Swig of the bottle.
"Whatever, give me the info."
"It is in your watch. Get the fuck out of here. If you don't like my city I do not want to be around your faggity ass." The fat guy turns back toward the bar.
"Fuck off chink. At least I can get laid."
"Guys don't count."
And with that he turns toward the door and motions to the car down the street. It would not take long to get to California, but who enjoys flying anymore. You do enough hours in the air and eventually it grinds into you, but killers have to make money too. Hence you do a lot of flying.