Desmond stared into the eyes of a megalomaniac. Alexandre Visiono clapped twice and a servant filled his glass of scotch. Visiono sat in a limousine flanked by henchmen, who had suited up. “Do you,” Visiono asked. “Like your accommodations?”

“Of course,” Desmond said.

“Yes… you must admit,” Visiono said. “The guest house is. Elegant. The grounds are. Magnificent. I spared no expense. Now, answer a question, Desmond. After all I have done for you, why have you betrayed me?”

“Sorry… I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you plant the explosives at strategic points across the city as I commanded?”

“Well, I, uh… Didn’t have time to get them all.”

“Luckily, I had the foresight to account for your incompetence,” Visiono said. He pulled out a detonator and pressed the switch.

Desmond’s heart sank. His mission had failed. Explosions. Fire and debris everywhere, people running for their lives – it was pandemonium. “Who do you work for?” Viviono asked. He now held a gun. “You clearly are not loyal to me.”