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He reached down and pulled a small dagger out of his boot, controlling his breathing. Thinking of the last time he’d done this. Thinking about the mechanics of taking a life. Getting ready for the explosion of violence.

Nobody came in after him.

He exhaled and went to the toilet, now needing to urinate. And felt a shadow in the door. He turned, and the local was there, saying, “I really am practicing my English, so, is it ‘Give me what you got’ or ‘Hand over your wallet’?”

Mr. Chin turned, glad he hadn’t opened his pants yet, now smiling. He had no qualms about killing, only about killing the wrongperson. He said, “Did you send the man outside away? Because I’ll shout and he’ll hear.”

The local said, “Of course I did. It cost me some money to do so, but you’ll pay that back with the camera you’re carrying alone.”

Mr.Chin said, “Thank you for making this easy. I appreciate it. Do you understand that English?”

The man looked confused, and Mr.Chin struck, his arm working like a jackhammer with his blade, stabbing the man in the chest over and over, as if he was chopping an ice block.

The man let out a single scream and then fell to the floor, Mr.Chin over him, continuing to stab holes in his body, letting out the air in his lungs like a deflating balloon.

The man quit moving, and Mr.Chin wiped the blade on his body, then dragged the carcass into a stall, closing the door. He went to the sink and washed his hands, cleaning off the blood. He stopped and checked his pulse, timing it with his watch. He was getting old, and was interested in how it affected him. Ninety-eight beats per minute.

Not as good as he had been in the past. But still not shabby.

The fact that he’d just killed a man never entered his mind. Only the mission mattered.

He exited the toilet, looking for the cleaning attendant he’d talked to outside. He didn’t see him. He spotted one of the local security guards and said, “Where’s the final cave?”

The man smiled and pointed to a path leading around a bend. He took it, walking in a measured pace. He rounded the corner and saw cave number five, two men on a bench outside of it. One of them had a head that looked like it had been squeezed at eye level, with the top popping out like an hourglass.

So that’s why they call you Peanut.

He went straight to the bench, not wanting to remain any longer than necessary. The man with the misshapen head stood up and Chin said, “Mr. Peanut? I’m Mr. Chin.”

Peanut said, “What was the stop at the toilet, and who was the man with you? Where is he?”

So hewaswatching.

“He was a crook. I tried to get rid of him, but he was persistent. I had to eliminate him.”

Peanut nodded, not even reacting to the words. He turned to the man to his left and said, “Check it out.”

The man left, and Peanut said, “If he’s not in the toilet, you won’t leave here alive. Do you understand that?”

“Of course. I understand.”

They waited, and the man returned, saying, “He’s dead. We need to leave.”

Peanut said, “We’re good for a little bit.” He turned to Mr.Chin and said, “So, what is this about? I give you some men and that’s not enough?”

Chin knew this was a break point. He had to handle it delicately. He said, “Your men were exactly what I needed, and I appreciate it, but they weren’t enough. It’s why I asked to meet you in person.”

“What do you mean, not enough?”

“They didn’t execute the mission as envisioned.”

Peanut stared at him for a moment, then said, “What does that mean? I give you men because you pay well, but I don’t control how they’ll be used. What did they do wrong? Was it them, or was it you and your plan?”

Mr.Chin nodded and said, “It’s exactly the second thing. They executed well, but my plan ran into something unforeseen, and I need to prevent it from happening again. I need more men.”

“More? Those two weren’t enough?”

Mr.Chin paused, then said, “Those two are dead.”