The Collected

CHAPTER 1

The two lists lay on the table, side by side, black ink on white paper.

The first set of names would be the easiest. Once a man was dead, he was dead.

It was the plans David Harris’s boss had for the second set that would be more difficult.

“I want to see their faces,” Javier Romero had ordered. “I want them to know what’s happening to them. I want them to know why.”

“It’s risky,” Harris argued at the time. “These aren’t just normal people. They’re professionals. One small error could have serious consequences.”

“Then I suggest you make sure there are no errors.”

In truth, the idea of bringing the men on the second list to Romero’s hideaway excited Harris. It was a challenge, like the way things had been before the incident-as Romero referred to it-four years earlier. Back then, ridding his boss of his enemies had been an enjoyable weekly task. It was something Harris, as trusted advisor and head of security, had done very well, satisfying the occasional call of his mercenary roots.

But since the incident, there had been very little of that, only the promise of one last big project. As the kicker, Romero had promised him a healthy reward once the project was complete. Given the man’s wealth and the dollars discussed, it had been more than enough reason for Harris to stick around.

And now the time had finally come, the job that would allow him to get his hands dirty again, if only figuratively.

In another month, two at the most, he’d be gone from here, living his own life however the hell he wanted to, and never having to work for anyone again.

He picked up the second list. Seven names, two crossed out. They were already dead, not by Harris’s hand or anyone associated with him or Romero, but by the nature of the work they did.

Unfortunate, but it still left the five.

He smiled.

This was going to be fun.