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Tags: urban, noir

There isn't much a target needs to know

Tony Marconi's driver took a different route each morning. Today, they'd hit the garment district first, then back along the boulevard.

Cocooned in the rear seat he raked his brindled crew cut trying to locate the source of a slight, but persistent, headache. At barely fifty, he was one of the most successful beasts alive in this jungle of steel and glass; the booze and girls and junk now replaced by rents and industry.

As they waited for the lights to change he settled back and closed his eyes and never even saw the gun car slide alongside his vehicle.


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