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I didn't mind shooting him between the eyes one bit, what made 
it harder for me was how he pleaded for his life and said he had 
money and that I didn't have to do this, but he was a killer of the 
first order and hadn't shown any mercy to no one...he deserved 
the bullet that spread his brains on the vacation mural behind his
desk:
                      "NEW ENGLAND IN THE FALL"

white smoke from the powder load spread in front of my eyes
like a sea mist on Cape Cod...that acrid smell after the bullet's 
left the gun stays around like a bad novel on a bookshelf, for a 
long time...and that was something I didn't have...the pop of the
silencer would cut me some slack to leave the building and cover
my tracks quietly, it was 11 .45, am and pretty soon people would
start coming out of their offices for lunch, 

so I moved quickly, pocketing the pearl handled beretta as I went
down the back stairs and out into the busy street: 
the sun burnt my forehead and played a jig on the car windscreens
lining the street from end to end, right down to the waterfront.

The smells of cooking and food orders being shouted from restaurants on both sides, made the place sound like the track on a saturday, when everybodies got money and a smile,

we all knew he was dirty...real dirty...he'd made a fortune taking drug money and turning the other way for years, Captain J.J. Lawrence, homicide chief and mob factotum...but it had all got to much when two young narcotics detectives had been found with their throats cut, on a stakeout in Queens... it had Lawrence's name all over it, they'd found out he was controlling the eastside dope operation, when they'd  cornered a dealer with 30 years hanging over him, in a shoot out and he'd later started singing, to cut a deal with the D.A.

so we'd drawn straws... and well, you know the rest.
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