‘You won’t even see it coming,’ he said. I said nothing. ‘Believe me,’ he said. I looked away. I believed him. If Delta put a hit on me, I wouldn’t see it coming. That was for sure. Weeks from now or months from now or years from now I would walk into a dark alley somewhere and a shadow would step out and a K-bar would slip between my ribs or my neck would snap with a loud crack that would echo off the bricks around me, and that would be the end of it. ‘You’ve got a week,’ the guy said. ‘To do what?’ ‘To show us it wasn’t you.’ I said nothing. ‘Your choice,’ the guy said. ‘Show us, or make
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