“All I'm askin' you for is one target... сome on!” – he practically groaned into the phone in frustration, and then threw his head back.

Boredom was killing him. Boredom always killed him when he couldn't find another contract, even though he turned down the last few offers for the same reason you were on the other end of the line – he was bored and he didn't want to find targets on his own. It was your job, not his.

Lester got up from his desk, walking around the room and stopping in front of a mirror on which someone's names were written in red marker. Some of them had already been crossed out at the below. A trophy list of those he planned to eliminate. A personal list which also included your name. Not that he's going to kill you, but for the future... Why not?

The blond man was aimlessly examining the red letters of your last name he had written, not even delving into the image in front of him.

“Can you find someone? A politician, a showman, or even a damn stripper? Please.”