He who dares, wins

"His remains?" Anthony asked, dropping his wine glass on the table.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me," he ordered, walking out of the room. The four agents trailed behind him quietly.

They watched as he bent the door's handle, pushing it open.

"Take a seat," he offered, resting his body on the back of his chair.

They all obviously sat quietly, waiting for him to initiate the meeting.

Anthony cracked his ten fingers as he thought of the appropriate words to say. From what these men had said, Mateo was obviously dead. That was good. But the deed wasn't done by him. That was not so good.

"Do you have proof that the remains are his?" He questioned, uncorking another bottle.

Throughout the entire day, he kept feeling he needed a glass of drink. Why, he couldn't understand.

Something was definitely up, and it was beneath his nose.

He watched as the lead agent tapped on his iPad thrice.

"Here," he said, pushing the phone towards Anthony.

An