“A million dollars can get you just about anywhere you want to be.” “One million? Do you have someone else backing you?” “Yes.” He drew a small blade out of his sleeve and flipped it in the air, catching it again. “My knife.” I flinched, picturing it embedded in me, blood oozing from the wound. “What?” “Assume someone else’s identity, disable alarms, take down cameras, kill the security guards, plant false evidence, and you fully fund your operation.” He slipped the knife back into place. “Really, most people could do it.”
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