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352 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2003
I swung round once more and immediately found my final target. I was just about to pull the trigger when I suddenly remembered she was my date.
"I'm sorry," I told Janet, the gun a bare three inches from her forehead. "I'm a hitman."
"I won't tell anyone," she blubbed and covered her mouth with her little chubby hands.
"I know," I said. "I know you won't," then blew her brains out. People always say they won't tell anyone when there's a gun to their head but they always do. I lowered the automatic and took a moment out to let what I had just done sink in.
"Please don't tell me you rubbed her out again!" he said, shaking his head, unable to look at me.
"It wasn't my fault. I couldn't help it."
"You couldn't help it? You took some bird out for dinner and you couldn't help murdering her. What's wrong with you, are you some sort of nutcase or something?"
"Look, I was compromised, I had no choice. Don't worry, everything's all right. There was no problem." 鈥�
鈥� "What about your connection?"
"Other than buying papers and the odd chocolate bar from her, there isn't one." I told Logan about how I asked her out. About how I'd followed her home and asked her well away from the shop, the security cameras and anyone that knew her, and as I did so I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done that by accident or design. Design probably. Not with the intention of killing her, you understand, I probably just didn't want anyone seeing me asking a fat bird out. Or, more likely, I didn't want to risk the possibility of anyone seeing me getting blown out by a fat bird.