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Michael's End

Michael was dead. I let that sink in. He always seemed indestructible. No matter how dangerous the situation, he always had a plan. A way out.

“How?” I asked.

“It happened in broad daylight. Two men on a motorcycle rode up as he was crossing a street. One of them had a shotgun. He raised his hands to defend himself and they fired point blank into his face, then drove off. Two of his buddies dragged him out of the street and to the side of the road.”

“Why’d they kill him?”

“We were hoping you’d tell us. What kind of a job were you going to discuss?”

I shook my head, and tried to grasp what was going on. “Before I start answering any of your questions, I have a few of my own. Just who are you and what is your interest in all of this?”

“I’m a liaison officer between Allied forces and the Iraqi National Police. We have been watching Mr. Wright for quite a while. He had set up a nice little import/export business here. But exactly what he was importing is a matter of some debate."

I lit a smoke.

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