56 | New Mission

◆ NICCOLO ◆   

Syrah, Rostov, Russia

"Is it done?"

I glanced up from my untouched glass of wine and stared at the man wearing an impeccably ironed suit and black tie.  If I didn't know any better, I'd say the guy just held a conference in some cold and stale boardroom in the metropolis.

But I knew what the big boss kept his scarred hands busy with these days. Or at least I had some ideas. 

"Scrubbed all the evidence. All copies and traces. You won't die in maximum security prison."  

"What about Sofija?" the boss asked me next.

"Give me two more weeks." I breathed a short sigh. He was impatient as much as I was tired of taking orders from him. But I had to pretend it didn't bother me. Or else he'd teach me another lesson involving a loaded gun, and some on-call henchman with a penchant for slaughtering total strangers using varying methods of torture. Early '60s Russian