Julian walked with quiet authority. It was an echo, like the clothes he wore, the facial expressions he allowed, or the words he used. It all added up to a man that acted like he owned everything.

Despite all of that, Julian was preoccupied. He was preparing for his meeting with a special courier, one who would ship anything for a price- even people. Better yet, he was Harry’s son and Harry owed him a few favors. It was the trading of favors that made this city run like a well-oiled machine.

In the sitting room, the courier was relaxed, his back against a wall. Julian noticed with some distaste that he had a faded tattoo of a falcon peeking through the opening in his vest- and a gun on his belt.

“Hans, I presume?” Julian asked.

“That’s right, yeah. What’s the cargo?” Hans said.

“I like that, straight to the point, just like your old man. I need a coffin taken from here to L.A. with no one the wiser.”

“What is it, some kind of local trouble?”

Julian smiled politely. “You’ll leave in an hour.”