Thirty minutes before, he had watched from a sand dune as a cruiser approached from the open sea, passed the last day beam, and rounded the tip of land to slip into the sheltered bight. Its running lights were extinguished as soon as it anchored. As The Cat waited, he focused on the silhouette of the man behind the curtains in the dimly lit interior of the boat. He knew the man’s name. He knew where the man bought, where he sold, and what samples he was carrying tonight. He knew the color of the man’s eyes. In a few minutes, he would know how fear looked in those eyes.
The cabin door on the boat opened and closed, and a shadow moved toward the boat’s stern. The Cat ticked off the seconds with the fingers of his left hand, enjoying the anticipation. An executioner had to enjoy sending souls to hell, or what was the point? The knife was sharpened, openly visible in a holster outside his shirt. He was ready.
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