- 6 -
Lazarus Fane was shouting, “What do you mean they’re dead?”
“Just what I said, sir. They were both found in a trash bin shot in the back of the head,” repeated the man who was now in fear of his life for having brought Lazarus such distressing news. Frequently, when the boss got mad, the messenger was killed.
“Damn,” Fane spit out. He was up and fuming, pacing back and forth. It was a habit of his when he was agitated. “Both of the men I had watching for the package, dead. What caliber of bullets?”
“They were .44 Mags sir. I dug them out myself. I knew you’d want to know. These were professional hits,” said the lackey. He still had blood and bits stuck to his shirt from the project of retrieving the causes of death.
“Well, dispose of the bodies, your efficiency saved your life.”
