I need to get my stuff packed to go.  Just a backpack with a few clothes & an extra knife & a spare gun in it.  In my pants pockets I have a pistol & a buck knife.  In my jacket pockets I have another handgun & a set of brass knuckles & $120,000 cash.  The air in the warehouse where I’m waiting for the guy who’s smuggling me out is stale & stagnant.  It feels like the only way the dirt in the air is cleaned out is by making deposits in my lungs as I breathe.  & I’m starting to wonder if the air is poisoned & it’s all just a scheme to kill people for money.
     When the guy finally shows up, he’s in his late forties & slightly overweight & wearing a suit like a film noir gangster.  I’ve never dealt with anyone who was a genuine organized criminal type instead of just somebody out for a little easy money.
     “You Eric?” He asks.
     “You got the hundred thousand?”
     “Let me see it kid.”
     I reach in to my pocket & I hear a gun cock & I see a twenty-five year old guy in an identical suit with a gun trained on me step into the room.  The first guy steps in front of the gunman & says to him, “Relax.  This Eric seems like a good kid.”  He turns to me & says, “You’re a good kid, right Eric?”
     I just nod my head.
     “Let’s se the money.”
     I pull out the $100,000 (I separated it from the extra $20,000 before I came) & hand it to him.
     “You’re, what, twenty years old & were able to get this money?  You remind me of myself, kid, so I’ll tell you what; I’ll actually send you out.  Normally I get these old fat bastards abandoning their families.  I kill them & sell their organs & give half their money back to their wives.   But you’re young & thin enough & maybe even smart enough to make it.  Follow me.”

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