PROLOGUE

He was running for his life. His lungs were burning. He had to stop and find a place to hide. As he slowed his pace and ducked down beside a dumpster, he noticed that his hands would not stop shaking. His phone was lost somewhere in the dark maze of alleys behind him. He thought about what a welcome sight the police would be tonight, how he would welcome a jail cell right now. He just didn't want to die.

He thought he heard a sound. But he couldn't stop gasping for air long enough to be sure. He risked a peek around the side of the dumpster so he could see down the alley. He had to know if he was finally safe or not. He paused to think about how this all began.

The deal was almost done. The other two people were counting money, while he and his partner were counting the little plastic bags on the table. The front and back doors of the house exploded in unison. Then the window overlooking the backyard exploded into a shimmering rain of glass shards. Shadowy figures poured in from both directions of the house, bringing more explosions with them.

Escape never occurred to him. His mind was paralyzed with fear. His body reflexively stumbled back to distance itself from the danger. Crashing backward through the window, he landed on the sidewalk with a thud. Then he was on his feet and running. He could hear grunts of determination as the shadows came out of the window after him.

It felt like he had been running forever. He was sure that they couldn't be very close, if they were even still behind him. He tried to run faster anyway. His memory was only coming in flashes at this point. One dealer's head exploded in a giant red mist. Stumbling backward. Falling. Running. The safety of a dark alley.

Crouched down behind the dumpster, it occurred to him that he had also lost one of his tennis shoes somewhere along the way. Just as he was considering how strange it was to lose a shoe, he heaved forward to vomit. Soon he would have no control over anything. His bowels were bubbling with liquid, his hands would not stop shaking, and he still couldn't catch his breath. The shoe didn't matter. He had to know if he was safe.

He tried to peek around the edge of the dumpster and down the alley. At that moment, two subsonic 9mm bullets quietly pierced his face and forced a large area of brain matter out through the back of his skull. The only sound in the alley was his body slumping to the ground beside the dumpster.

Thirty feet away, a shadow holstered a silenced-pistol and faded away into the darkness.