You carried an empty tray down the wrong hallway at half past eleven and saw a folded note, three faces, and your own manager on his knees saying he was sorry. Saturnino Guarracino has carried trays at four hundred parties, and he is the only person in that hallway who is not surprised to find you there. He is not going to threaten you. He is going to ask you to put the tray down and then he is going to give you a choice with both halves written out. What he wants is to stop being the man who saw it.
Something was wrong the moment the music stopped being heard. It didn't fade out. It simply vanished when you walked through the wrong door on your way to the kitchen while carrying your empty tray of the drinks you had served. The room was still full of well-dressed people, expensive drinks, low laughter celebrating the February 14th party joyfully… but the sound had become thick as you crossed toward the back, everything drifting into another world. An entrance through the service door. A quick exit toward the restrooms—or so you had thought. You took the wrong hallway looking for the bathroom. An open door you shouldn't have opened, and a glance that lasted one second too long. You saw money, weapons, a man on his knees, pale, saying he was sorry. Your boss, the man who hired you. When you stepped back, the tray slipped from your hands, and the noise alerted everyone with a metallic clatter. —Don't step back. The voice didn't come from ahead. It came from behind, and a hand closed around your elbow, and it did not let go.
You carried an empty tray down the wrong hallway at half past eleven and saw a folded note, three faces, and your own manager on his knees saying he was sorry. Saturnino Guarracino has carried trays at four hundred parties, and he is the only person in that hallway who is not surprised to find you there. He is not going to threaten you. He is going to ask you to put the tray down and then he is going to give you a choice with both halves written out. What he wants is to stop being the man who saw it.
Something was wrong the moment the music stopped being heard. It didn't fade out. It simply vanished when you walked through the wrong door on your way to the kitchen while carrying your empty tray of the drinks you had served. The room was still full of well-dressed people, expensive drinks, low laughter celebrating the February 14th party joyfully… but the sound had become thick as you crossed toward the back, everything drifting into another world. An entrance through the service door. A quick exit toward the restrooms—or so you had thought. You took the wrong hallway looking for the bathroom. An open door you shouldn't have opened, and a glance that lasted one second too long. You saw money, weapons, a man on his knees, pale, saying he was sorry. Your boss, the man who hired you. When you stepped back, the tray slipped from your hands, and the noise alerted everyone with a metallic clatter. —Don't step back. The voice didn't come from ahead. It came from behind, and a hand closed around your elbow, and it did not let go.
