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I lowered my phone into my pocket, and waited for the train to stop. I had a meeting with the owner of a big company in Boston, and it was essential I was on time. When the train began to slow, I rose up from my seat and waited for the doors to open. This was important for me. This was my first meeting like this.

I wasn’t nervous; I had been taught to show no emotion for the sake of a good conversation. Stepping onto the platform, I was now a new man. Walking through the streets of Boston, I paced onward toward one of the tallest buildings in the city. I messed with my suit and tie the entire walk, being sure I looked pristine.

This was my first time in Boston. It seemed cleaner than I originally thought, and I walked by the Commons, spotting some geese showered in golden leaves. The cool autumn air felt nice, and gave me some energy, though that wasn’t what I needed.

I stepped through the glass doors which were so kindly opened for me by a man in a black suit. Ahead of me were some guards, armed with a pistol in their belts, and metal detectors by their sides.

“Give me anything that’s metal. That includes your phone.” They seemed bored, like this was routine, but I did what they asked and stepped through the metal detector. Nothing went off, and they gave me my belongings back, and I was back to walking toward the elevator. I pressed a button, and felt myself move up. I checked the time on my watch: ‘2:53’. I was a little ahead of schedule, so at my stop, I waited a few minutes, and saw a janitor walking by.

“I’m sorry, do you happen to be Mr. Jacobs?” I asked the janitor.

“Are you Mr. Richards?” He asked back.

“I am, do you have something for me?” He handed me a small bag to wear around my neck, filled with something of mine. “Thank you Mr. Jacobs.”

“Good luck with your meeting,” He gave me a small wink and a nod toward the door, and walked away, towing his cart behind him. I gave one last glance at him before looking at my watch one last time. ‘3:00’. I opened the door to the office and spotted a man in a suit and tie, much like mine, wearing a shortly trimmed salt and pepper beard. His eyes were a kind emerald green, and ready for business.

“Sit down Mr. Richards.” He motioned to a chair opposite of his. I sat down, taking the bag off and resting it around my chair. “Now, why is it you wanted to see me?”

“I had a client of mine who had an issue with you Mr. Talse, and I wanted to see if we could work out an arrangement.”

“And who would this client be exactly?” He leaned in to the question, curious. I had all of the power.

“Clara Brinks,” a name he would know all too well. He sat back in his chair, astonished at the name. He knew why I was here now.

Clara was a woman who worked for Mr. Talse, and had, shall we say, a relationship with him. They grew close, but Talse was an angry person, and in a fit of rage, killed Clara. Unfortunately for him, it was caught on camera, but this wasn’t blackmail. Oh no. Clara was the granddaughter of my employer, a stern man, the head of a crime syndicate in Chicago. This was revenge.

“Mr. Richards, surely we can work something out. Maybe a business deal? After all this is just business, right? A gun for hire sent after me?” He was frantic, hoping his words could change anything, and I reached into my bag, pulling out a small revolver.

“You’re right, Mr. Talse. This is just business.”