Hawk took the red folder from Yekaterina.
He opened it.
A man's photo instantly came into view.
Hawk removed the photo from the paperclip and saw a file under it.
Arthur Stacy!
Male.
New York City District Attorney.
Hawk frowned slightly when he saw the name on the file.
"...Stacy?"
"Is there a problem?"
Yekaterina, sitting opposite him and sipping her bourbon, caught the subtle change in Hawk's expression and asked, "You know him?"
Hawk snapped back to attention and looked up.
"The commission?"
"Four hundred thousand."
Yekaterina said, "Your current fee starts at three hundred thousand per job. This job is a rush order, so the extra is a rush fee. As we agreed, I only take thirty percent of your commission, and I don't take any of the rush fee. Interested?"
Four hundred thousand?
That's three hundred and ten thousand in hand.
Every hitman has their fixed price, which is what Yekaterina just referred to as the starting fee.
Initially, Hawk's starting fee, or appearance fee, was around one hundred thousand U.S. dollars, but with several clean and successful jobs, his appearance fee has now risen to three hundred thousand.
In short.
The more jobs a hitman takes, and the more successful they are, the higher their appearance fee becomes.
"Deal."
Hawk mentally calculated the price he would receive for this job, his eyes flickering for a moment, then he looked up at his agent: "Time limit?"
He was short on cash.
Very short.
He didn't want to use his hard-earned money, so he could only rely on others' blood money.
It was still the same saying.
People die sooner or later; when they die is just a matter of time. Dying a bit earlier isn't a big problem.
"This client's request is a bit urgent."
Yekaterina said, "The client requires this job to be completed before next Monday."
"Before next Monday?"
"Yes."
Hawk rubbed his chin.
It was already Thursday, leaving only three days until next Monday. This meant the mission, from preparation to execution, had only three days.
This was the troublesome part of rush orders.
The time was too tight.
"Oh, right."
"Hmm?"
"The client for this job also bought insurance."
"...What?"
Hawk blinked and looked up at Yekaterina.
"Insurance?"
"Yes."
"It's been approved by the Continental Hotel. If you can't complete this job on time, we'll need to pay double compensation to the client."
"..."
Everything can be insured.
Why shouldn't contract killings be insurable?
Especially with rush orders, the employer's urgency is precisely to ensure the target's death 100%. If they don't die, the client will be in a lot of trouble.
Therefore...
Buying insurance is perfectly reasonable.
Of course.
Insurance in the hitman industry is different from ordinary insurance outside. For such insurance to work, the target must not die, and the hitman must also not die.
It only takes effect when both the target and the hitman are still alive.
If the target doesn't die but the hitman dies, it only means the job was difficult, and naturally, this insurance won't take effect.
However, even so, when the Continental Hotel, which monopolizes ninety percent of the hitman market, piloted this insurance two years ago, it was still welcomed by many clients.
Moreover, the price of buying insurance isn't expensive—fifty percent of all fees.
For example, this job.
Including commission and rush fees, it totals four hundred thousand. So, the insurance fee would be two hundred thousand. If the insurance takes effect, the client will receive double the commission, which is eight hundred thousand in compensation, plus a full refund of the two hundred thousand insurance fee, totaling one million.
Of course.
If insurance is bought and the hitman completes the mission, the insurance fee is not refunded. It is split fifty-fifty between the hitman and the insurance company, which is the Continental Hotel.
So...
Hawk blinked: "If I complete this job, I'll get a total of four hundred and ten thousand?"
Yekaterina nodded: "That's right, that's how it's calculated. However, whether you take it or not is entirely up to you. But even if you can't complete it, it's fine. We can still afford eight hundred thousand..."
Hawk smiled, looking at Yekaterina: "I don't have eight hundred thousand."
All the blood money he earned as a hitman was fed to the system. As for the nearly three million in black money he had accumulated over the years, he was saving it to buy an apartment in Star Tower in a few days.
Yekaterina chuckled, her smile cold, enchanting, and alluring: "It's fine, I have money. Big sister will support you."
Hawk looked at Yekaterina's captivating exotic eyes across from him, and his heart couldn't help but skip a few beats.
Alright.
Hawk admitted that the reason he saved Yekaterina from being hunted by hitmen back then was entirely because of her beauty, which was no less than that of the Great Empress.
But...
Men, they are driven by appetite and desire.
Hawk liked all beautiful things; this was very normal. If he wasn't moved by a beautiful woman, what would move him?
Men?
Heh.
A man moved by another man isn't being moved; it's being sick, and a deformed sickness at that!
"I'll take it."
Hawk lowered his head and re-read the information on Arthur Stacy, which he wasn't sure if it had any relation to Gwen Stacy's family. After considering for a moment, he looked up and confirmed to his hitman agent: "I'll take this job."
He originally thought it was only three hundred and ten thousand, but he didn't expect it to be an extra one hundred thousand.
This was great.
"Good."
Seeing the certainty in Hawk's eyes, Yekaterina didn't say anything more about the job. Instead, she said, "Perfect. If you complete this job, you'll be promoted to A-rank in the Continental Hotel's hitman rating system. Your appearance fee can be increased to six hundred thousand, and you'll be qualified to take some international orders. Is business travel okay?"
Hawk put away the documents in his hand and looked at Yekaterina: "Business travel? It's fine if there's money. No jobs is the problem."
It was still the same saying.
Hawk didn't want to sweat, so he could only rely on others' blood.
How can there be a perfect solution in this world? Sacrificing others to achieve oneself, what's wrong with that?
Yekaterina shook her head, somewhat speechless. However, at this moment, the ordered dishes arrived, so she didn't continue the conversation on this topic.
Soon.
After Hawk and his hitman agent finished lunch, they left the restaurant.
"Oh, right."
"What's wrong?"
Hawk put the documents in his car, then turned to look at Yekaterina, who had called out to him.
She walked up to Hawk, her exotic eyes seemingly alluring, and leaned into Hawk's ear: "It's still early. Want to rest at the hotel for a bit?"
Hawk didn't speak.
...
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