Ian Hancock

The Executor

The Man with the Notebook had summoned me once again. A layer of fog drifted in lazy swirls outside the window of my favourite coffee shop. The aroma of fresh espresso washed over me as I breathed deeply, fighting to calm my shaking hands. Aside from us, only a solitary waitress occupied the lobby, patrolling the nearby booths with a rag and a pot of coffee as she waited for more customers to trickle in.