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Monday, November 2, 2009

Heist - Episode 2

Warm light cascaded in through large windows, wide green leaves tapped gently against the glass outside as spring wind cooled the air. Two men sat in a large office, ornate oak trim hung on textured coffee walls, a warm oak desk sat between the men.

The smaller of the two had olive skin, his short black hair curled at the tips, his eyes inquisitive, yet ready to solve any puzzle laid before him. He leaned back just enough to seem comfortable without appearing lazy. “Sounds like good information.”

The larger of the two men wore a white fedora with a matching suit, thick hands protruded from the cuffs holding a large round cigar. “I wouldn’t have called you otherwise Samuel, I can afford the very best.”

Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick white envelope. “Standard fee for the information, plus five percent of the profits.”

The white suited man took a long drag from his cigar. “Ten percent of the profits.”

Samuel cocked a brow, “Seems your rates have gone up?”

“Only for you, your team can handle any score, but you’re getting reckless. You are a bigger risk now, so your premiums are higher.”

“That doesn’t seem fair, we always deliver.” Samuel knew it was a battle he’d lose, but he had to at least try.

“Fair?” The larger man chuckled, “What can I say? It’s a cut throat market.”

With a long sigh, Samuel slid the envelope across the desk over to the fat fingers. “It’s a deal then.”

Golden rings decorated the hand that grabbed the envelope without even opening it to check its contents, “Where’s the rest of it?”

“You don’t miss a beat, do you?” Samuel withdrew another envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the oak desk.

“In this business, you can’t afford to miss anything. All it takes is one slip, one mistake and you’re out of the game for life.” Fat fingers pulled the thick cigar to his lips again. “You and your crew would do well to remember that.”

Samuel nodded and stood up slowly, with two steps and a flick of his wrist the door was open and the curly haired man soon found himself outside of the beautiful, lavish home of the local mobster that people simply referred to as “The Man”.

Fountains decorated the grounds, large exotic trees stood in every corner and crevice, each blade of grass was cut to length, each flower was perfectly arranged. Samuel slid the cell phone from his pocket as he started to walk down the brick path that lead away from the mansion. His fingers dialed familiar numbers as his feet hit the ground.

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