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The Grim Reaper ripped off the mask and stared into a mirror. Nothing about this job had gone correctly. Nothing. At this rate, it might not end the way it needed to end. And that was unacceptable.
Granted, any time you bring in hired help, you’re taking a risk. But there was no choice. They had eyes on the lawyers, thanks to the man who followed them from the penitentiary. They sent in a cleaner located on the Exchange, a guy called Zava who prided himself on his motoring skills. But Zava lost control of his car and sailed into a tree. He was lucky the impact didn’t kill him.
A man should make his own way in the world, should take only what he earned. Politics aside, there were far too many lazy losers lying around contributing nothing for no one. Happy to take a free ride rather than put in an honest day’s work. If the nation was going to survive, it had to make some serious changes.
But the plan, like all plans, required execution. Every name on the list. And maybe a few others.
After the crash, Zava managed to crawl out of the car and follow on foot, despite the snowstorm. He saw the tracks and knew where the lawyers must’ve gone, so he followed them to the station they’d holed up in. But it was now well past the time Zava was supposed to report. Perhaps the lawyers had gotten the best of him. And eased on down the road.
Didn’t matter. They could always be found again.
Hiring others was never as sure as handling matters on your own. Long ago, Pappy said there was only one way to get a job done well. Do it yourself.
There was too much at stake here to take any chances.
Look out, lawyers. You may think you’ve escaped my grasp. But you haven’t. You’re on a dead-end road to perdition. Case closed.