Stefan Granger finished his reps with the two-hundred-pound dumbbells and tossed them to the mat. One entire wall of his apartment was a giant mirror, like they have in the nice gyms. But Stefan didn’t work his body to show off or have a bunch of people staring at him. He kept fit because that was the right thing to do. The right way to live, the only way, was to be the strongest and the smartest.
This was the third apartment he had rented in the city. The other two had become a problem because he had neighbors beneath and to the side of him. His new place was over the top of a garage. A nice young couple had rented it to him. It was originally built to be a nurse’s quarters for an old couple that had lived there, but after they passed away and a younger family moved in, they didn’t know what to do with the nurse’s quarters. So they decided to make some extra rental income.
Granger had become quite close with the young couple. The wife was pregnant. Due any day now. He had dinner with them at least once a week and had already volunteered to paint the baby’s room for them.
The situation suited him perfectly. It was a mansion compared to his dad’s place at the cemetery. He was able to work out whenever he wanted. He could make as much noise as he wanted. And it was perfect camouflage for a man in his profession.
He stretched and stood up and then went down into the splits, stretching out his legs and arms.
Falling into a state of meditation, he heard the cell phone ringing. But he didn’t answer. He tried to tell himself it was only a telemarketer or scammer. The only people who ever called him were telemarketers and a select few who actually had the number. But thinking of those who did have the number, he couldn’t concentrate. Knowing that anyone who did possess the number would only use it for an important reason.
He rolled to his feet, ending the movement in a powerful haymaker to his punching bag. Then he stepped over to the kitchen and picked up his phone. As he had feared, it was one of the important calls.
Granger started to hit redial while reaching over to turn off the stereo—which was pumping out AC/DC’s greatest hits—but then he realized that simply calling that same number would do no good. That number had already been erased. The protocol for the client was to wait fifteen minutes and call back.
He checked the time of the call. Fourteen minutes to go. He considered getting in some more reps before the call but then decided against it. He didn’t want to sound out of breath when Mr. Demon called back.