Chapter 88: Arthur's Rules of the Trade
Arthur's Rule #1: No background check, no matter how thorough, is excessive before taking action against a target.
So, before striking the cult leader, even though the company had laid out all the intelligence before him, he still took the time to verify every piece of information, ensuring it was airtight.
Arthur's Rule #2: Every action must be carefully planned. But when the plan fails and chaos reigns, improvisation becomes the new plan.
Arthur followed this principle. After the assassination was completed, he was about to be discovered by the bodyguard who had moved the mirror, but he immediately put a bullet between the guard's eyes.
Arthur's Rule #3: Every assassination must be preceded by an even more thorough escape plan, and the best escape plan is to split up.
So Arthur, holding his specially obtained passport, sat at Ontario International Airport, preparing to board his connecting flight to London.
The passport identified him as a mechanical engineer. The name wasn't important; it was a person who had never existed. But Arthur guaranteed it was absolutely authentic. Even the FBI wouldn't be able to find any flaws, as it was legitimately obtained through proper channels.
This is America—money talks, and everything has a price.
Arthur was sitting in the airport waiting area, sipping his Starbucks and wondering about the identity of the sniper who had aided him during the hit.
Was he another assassin sent to kill the cult leader? Absolutely not. The underworld in which assassins operate has its own code. Once a contract is assigned to an assassin, another can't be sent to carry it out simultaneously unless the first assassin has already failed.
Could it be that some other faction wanted the target dead, but instead of hiring professionals, they used their own people? This happened all the time in the business, but it was impossible in this case.
The reason was Rule #2 of the professional code. When he conducted his background check on the target, he had already identified all the target's enemies. Naturally, this cult leader had other enemies besides the one who hired Arthur.
But their resources weren't enough to field their own operatives, let alone match Arthur's fee. After all, Arthur was a top-tier contractor, and his rates were far beyond what ordinary players could afford.
Just as Arthur was puzzling over this, a tall, well-dressed man walked into the terminal. His pretentious demeanor made him look like some trust fund Yale graduate. Walking down a dark alley in downtown Detroit, Arthur was almost certain the guy would get mugged within minutes.
But Arthur also knew someone like this wouldn't be wandering around LA alone at night. He recognized the suit—Savile Row tailoring, probably from Huntsman or Anderson & Sheppard on London's famous street.
A typical suit would easily run upwards of $15,000, luxury reserved for Wall Street titans and old money families. Arthur had only seen it on a few high-value targets.
The wealthy man casually strolled up to Arthur in the waiting area and greeted him in a crisp East Coast accent: "Excuse me, mind if I sit here?"
He didn't say much, but his Ivy League bearing made Arthur feel uncomfortable. Although there were plenty of other empty seats in the waiting area, Arthur reluctantly shifted over to avoid drawing attention.
"Much appreciated, friend. Name's Ron," Ron said, straightening his Harvard class ring and extending his hand to Arthur. "I really had no choice but to sit with you. These California girls are so... enthusiastic. If I'd sat over there, I would've been mobbed by those lovely ladies."
Ron nodded toward a group of young women traveling together in another section, earning a giggling wave from them in response.
But Arthur had no intention of shaking his hand. The way Ron extended it was truly condescending. He held his chin high, fingers slightly lowered, as if shaking Arthur's hand would be granting him some great privilege.
"You could always go sit with those guys over there," Arthur suggested, gesturing toward some other travelers.
"No, no, no," Ron shook his head. "Those fellows look way too chatty, like they're planning to pitch me some MLM scheme. Better to sit with you. With all due respect, you don't look like much of a talker."
Arthur's blood pressure spiked, and he nearly couldn't resist the urge to eliminate this annoying preppy. Even though he had no weapons, as a professional, he knew a dozen ways to kill this Easterner using nothing but his bare hands.
Seeing Arthur's head bowed in silence, the persistent Ron continued chatting. "I'm in international business, primarily between London and New York, dealing in premium spirits. Probably sampled my bourbon before, but unfortunately, I'm rushing back to Manhattan today, and my security detail is on leave. What line of work are you in?"
Arthur gritted his teeth, still fighting the urge to silence him permanently, but he shifted slightly in his chair.
Such rejection was perfectly natural when dealing with such an obnoxious person, and it wouldn't raise the slightest suspicion.
But Ron was like superglue. When Arthur moved, Ron followed, quickly repositioning himself. Arthur shot him a warning look, but Ron maintained his polished, country club smile.
Ignoring Arthur's hostile glances, Ron leaned closer and closer until they were practically whispering. Then, in a voice only they could hear, he said, "I'm guessing you're a professional, aren't you?"
Arthur's heart rate spiked, his fingers in his pockets curling into fists. If Ron made any sudden moves, he'd be ready to strike and take him down, but he kept his expression neutral.
"Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about. Can you please stop bothering me? Otherwise, I'll call airport security to handle this situation."
"Go ahead and try, my dear Mr. Richard Smith," Ron's smile widened. "If I'm not mistaken, that's the identity you're using today, right?
Honestly, you're brilliant, and I mean that sincerely. Every year, you use this identity to live quietly on that ranch in Riverside County, don't you? Even the elderly neighbor lady remembers you fondly. If the authorities ever questioned you, your cover would be rock solid."
Ron continued with his knowing smile, his words completely unnerving Arthur.
(End of Chapter)
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