The cool gray sky was a stark comparison to the concrete jungle below. Twelve stories up, the wind was almost non-existent, and barely disturbed the pigeons from their roosts. David scraped his shoes on the roof and watched the swarms of people rush to and fro, hurrying to oh so important meetings and locations. He flicked the cell in his hand open and closed, and rested the other on the field glasses hanging around his neck. The rifle, resting by the edge of the roof, gleamed pitifully in the poor light.

Below, outside of a fancy café, the flood of humanity thinned and settled beneath the umbrellas, which were essentially useless but required of the establishment. Whatever conversations

“I’ve a score to settle for someone, Vincent.”

“Who’s this?”

“David. That doesn’t matter though. What matters is how much you’re willing to pay to stay alive.”

“What’s your deal?”

“Three hundred and fifty thousand. That’s it.”

“You know what David? You can take your offer and shove it.” Cell phone screwed into his ear, Vincent scowled at the people walking past his table at the café.

“I’d rather not.”

Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, Vincent debated thumbing the button to cut the connection. Instead, he loosened his tie and frowned a bit more.

“ Well then go screw with someone else. I’m legit now, and it’s staying that way.”

“I’ve heard different. Why else would you have a someone like me on your tail?”

Paling, Vincent squeezed the phone tighter and gritted his teeth. He could have sworn he heard David laughing at him and he got furious. People shouldn’t play games like this, no matter how crooked they were.

“Goddammit! You’re a liar. I’m not forking out any money to some bozo who says he’s been hired to take me out,” taking a deep breath, he put a hand over his eyes and snarled “got anything else to say?”

“Actually, yes. Do you have the time?”

Vincent moved his hand to shake his shirtsleeve from his wrist and glared at his Rolex for a second. From two miles away a burst of fire flashed from the roof of a high-rise and disappeared. As the man at the table twisted his head to bark the time through his cell phone a .50 BMG round shattered the phone to pieces and burst through the side of his skull. Fragments of bone and tissue exploded from the other side and left the metal-jacketed bullet to bury itself in the sidewalk.

Screams broke the endless silence after the shot as Vincent’s body lolled forward, his pulpy head a grotesque display against the white table. Dark blood had begun to seep through his silk shirt before anyone even had the notion to call the police. To phone in about the death, the murder.

Two miles away, David disassembled the thirty-one pound rifle and slipped his phone into his shirt pocket. Humming a tune, he checked his watch and walked over to the elevator with his case in hand.

“Idiot took the easy way out.”