The early morning sun of 8 a.m. glinted off the shiny new glass of the 15-story tower on 136th Street. It really was a prime location, and Amira had paid a prime rate for it. But the view from the top floors that overlooked Willow Lake in Flushing Meadows Park made it all worth it. It was as if her huge, concrete-and-steel structure had a portal into a world that wasn't the bustling city of New York. Perhaps someday she'd find time to go and walk through that park and enjoy the sunshine.

Today, however, was not that day. The building had been completed and signed over to her two days before, and the time had come to start the hard part. Amira stepped out of her car and looked up at the building as she did, shielding her eyes from the glare. The height, though not nearly as tall as some around it, seemed to mirror the mountainous task before her. 

"You're not replacing them, Amira. You're simply starting over."

The voice was Garrett's, the familiar, New England aristocratic accent that she'd come to associate with wise counsel- and sometimes a wise ass. He also emerged from Amira's car, having hitched a ride with her from the lofts that morning for the occasion, and stood beside her. The two had both suffered losses; in death and in disappearance. In their talks, though, they had both expressed that it was good that they had stuck together in this transition. Garrett had the decency not to say that he wasn't completely confident in Amira's mental stability without someone professional to keep an eye on it; but she knew that was the case, and that his ego was big enough that he didn't think anyone else would do it properly. No matter what the purpose, she was glad her friend was there.

"I know...I think. I just didn't imagine I'd be doing this again. Without them. Without...."

Dr. Mitchell's hand rested on her shoulder, assuring her that he knew the rest of that sentence without her having to say it. Instead, he adjusted his ascot and flashed his trademark smirk.

"So, which office is mine?"

Amira chuckled and gestured widely at the building in front of them.

"Take your pick, there are 276."

"Excellent- I'll take yours, then. I hear the view is stunning."

Willie's shoes clacked against the concrete as he walked. He's put them on last night and worn them right up until he went to bed, and then put them on first thing this morning before he had even had his breakfast. New shoes needed to be broken in, or you'd pay for it later on, and if he was going to be working in these things, he needed to break them in soon.

He glanced down to check the address one more time. It had been a trek to get here, the better part of an hour spent on the train and then walking. He made it though, and caught a glimpse of himself in the polished glass as he looked up at the building. He didn't recognize the man that he saw. The black for one thing. He was told black was the best color for the work he was getting into. He still didn't know what that was, but Willie was always one to wear browns and greys. Black head to toe was not suited to him, it only server to further sour his already dark demeanor. He shrugged all the same and made his way inside.

"I'm looking for..." He started to say to the man at the door, but was quickly brushed inside. "She's on the top floor, check the office with her name on it, elevator up, straight ahead, can't miss it." Said the doorman.

Again Willie shrugged, and made his way furhter inside. She did mention that her people would know his name, and he supposed that meant they would know what he looked like too. He was still surpised though. It's not like she had a photograph of him to pass around or anything like that.

Still he entered the elevator and rode it up to the top floor, following the instructions to head straight, and found Amira standing in an office, overlooking the park.

He cleared his throat as he stodd in the doorway.

"Morning."

Amira turned from the window, and Garrett looked up from a magazine he was leafing through in a chair near the desk. Amira's gaze turned to a warm smile. 

"Ah, William, welcome to Azra Securities. I'd like you to meet Dr. Garrett Mitchell. Garrett, this is the gentleman I was speaking with you about last night. William is going to be working with me for a while as he learns the way of things in the Ligambi Family."

A security guard that was posted outside Amira's door reached out casually and pulled the door shut. Garrett stood and took a step to shake the man's hand. He was dressed in a maroon colored suit that was tailored to a ridiculously perfect fit, with a champagne dress shirt and maroon and navy blue silk ascot at the neck. He had a genuine, cheerful smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Butcher. You're a brave soul jumping on board first."

Amira shot him a playfully scolding look.

"Don't scare him, for fuck sake, Garrett. I'm not even sure he knows he's working for the mob yet."

And that's how she did it. Some people took their time building people up to the point of telling them exactly what they are getting themselves into. Amira found it more effective, and somewhat more amusing, to let the moment of shock hit and pass, then business could carry on. She gestured for a comfortable looking leather seat across from her desk, then walked around and opened a drawer, withdrawing a file folder.

"Please, have a seat. Let's get the red tape out of the way, shall we?"

With an easy smile, she perched on the edge of her desk.

Willie looked Garrett up and down, then turned to Amira.

"It would have to be a complete idiot to not know after yesterday. Buying a guy a sandwich is one thing, buying a guy a suit and offering him a job before handing him twenty large in an unmarked envelope out of a magic briefcase?"

He shook his head. "If you've got folks working for you that wouldn't have figured it out after that, please, spare me an introduction to those folks huh?"

He turned back to Garrett. "You get that suit from Mike? Her guy forces me into this penguin getup, but you get to wear color? If it wasn't Mike I need the name of your guy."

With that he turned on his heel and took a seat at the indicated chair.

"No offense Amira, but there can't be much red tape right? I didn't think you guys..." he paused "Guess I should say we now? Anyway, I didn't think paperwork would be a thing. Paper trails seem like a bad thing in this line of work."

Garrett looked at Amira with a quizzical stare.

"Who is Mike?"

Without looking at Garrett, Amira shook her head slightly and sat up straighter. The reply from William caught her a bit off guard- his mood seemed to have changed a bit from yesterday; but that might not be too out of the ordinary. She continued.

"Mike isn't important. I apologize if you believe I took you for a fool- that is far from the case. I've taken in more than a few people who thought they were getting one kind of job, then realized they were in over their heads. Without really knowing who it was that sent you to me, and having kept our conversation extremely surface-level yesterday, I needed to be sure that you were fully aware of the steps you are about to take. That you showed up this morning give me the distinct impression that you are well aware."

She tapped the file folder on the desk.

"And you are correct, paper trails in that line of work are an extremely bad idea. However, this is Azra Securities, Inc. A fully incorporated, legal securities firm based in Los Angeles and now expanding to New York. We provide private security for higher-end clients that require such things; from one or two body men to security staff large enough to cover Yankee Stadium."

Amira picked up the folder and opened it, giving William a simple smile.

"But, I'm sure you know what a 'front' is, so no need to go into that. Should you choose to move forward, Mr. Butcher, you will be an employee of Azra Securities, Inc. All of your employment records will come from Azra Securities, as well as your paychecks, and any other paperwork that keeps you very legal and under the radar of the local and Federal government."

She flips a page or two over, and continues.

"All you'd be doing is signing your name to a good-old American contract of employment. And a standard non-disclosure agreement stating that anything you hear or see beginning from your employment until the day you leave this mortal coil will not be disclosed by you anyone outside of Azra Securities or it's subsidiaries. Those subsidiaries being, of course, the associates and members of the organized crime family of Joseph Ligambi."

"Or they'll cut out your tongue and bury you in a hole where no one will ever find you" Garrett added almost inaudibly- but it caused both he and Amira to crack a tiny grin. 

"So, is this an agreeable arrangement you'd like to move forward with?"

Amira placed the open folder on the desk and slid it toward the center for him.

Willie regarded the man now standing comfortably behind him. He then took in all of Amira as she spoke, rather quickly in fact, about the job. It was not lost on him that she glossed over the job itself.

"So what I'm going to be some sort of security guard? Bodyguard? Boy Friday?"

He reached out and grabbed the pen to sign his name while he asked. It didn't matter one way or another what he signed here and now. Nor did it really matter what he signed up for as far as the job goes. The mob was like the army. Sure you signed up to be a cook, but when bullets started flying, you found out that they expected you to know how to use a gun pretty quick.

"Like I said yesterday Miss, long as I get paid enough to pay rent and eat, you've got me."

He finished signing his name and then stodd up.

"This building is nice and shiny, and you told me to go buy a suit, so I'm gonna guess you don't need me to be a janitor, but that's about as far as I can get safely."

He touched the folder as he closed it and slid it along the desk toward her.

"So, do I have a job for today, or is this a 'wait and see' situation?"

For a moment, Amira peered at William curiously.

"You are a very task-oriented man, aren't you?"

She shrugged and stood, closing the folder and smoothing out the lines of her fitted slacks.

"There's a reason I don't talk about 'the job' until you've signed on the dotted line, Mr. Butcher. I like to know that the people I'm bringing on board for work beyond Azra are willing to do what needs to be done no matter what. You've demonstrated that, and now that everything is all on paper, I can be more frank with you."

As she handed the folder to Garrett, there was a knock at the door. It opened, and a pretty young blonde in a blue pencil skirt and nicely fitting white blouse came into the room with a tray of coffee cups and a fresh pot of coffee, as well as a good sized serving plate that held cheese, olives, some fresh fruit, and several bagel-looking breads covered in black sesame seeds. The woman brought the tray inside and sat it on the coffee table in front of the desk, glancing at William and giving him a bright smile and polite nod.

"Good morning, Jeanette, thank you. If you will, take Mr. Butcher's information to Phyllis downstairs."

The girl nodded and took the folder from Garrett, who didn't appear to hide the way he watched Jeanette's bouncy walk out of the room until the door closed behind her; which Amira seemed to ignore. Rather, she moved from the desk and sat down opposite William. Garrett came and joined them, but only long enough to pour himself a cup of coffee and steal a few slices of cheese before returning to his chair and book.

"I did not hire you to be an errand boy, and you will only be working with me as long as needed for you to learn your way around the Ligambi family and it's operations. Your job will be up to you. I intend for you to find a position that you enjoy, because only then will you flourish in your work. So, you like being handed a job and going to do it? You could be an enforcer, if you like that type of work. Or, in the same vein, you could be one of Mr. Ligambi's hatchet men. There's a lot of waiting around for that one, though. Mostly sitting on your ass making money until you get a call. Or, if you are interested in something more covert, you could work with Nick Horn. He works for Azra as my Chief Information Officer- but mostly he's a spy for me."

Reaching forward, she takes one of the breads and tears off a piece and pops it into her mouth. She turns and looks at Garrett over her shoulder.

"Good simit today, you should have one."

Garrett didn't look up from his book, but picked up a hand and shot Amira a middle finger. She chuckled and turned back to William.

"He's allergic to sesame seeds. Anyway, your knowledge of the city and it's ins-and-outs are useful. Sure, I could make you my driver, but that seems a bit below your paygrade now. Unless you're interested in that hatchet man gig."

Leaving that to hang in the air, she reached for one of the cups of coffee.

Willie had watched the young blod leave the room with significantly less intensity than the maroon-decked man had, but he certainly wasn't one to keep his eyes or his mind from wandering. However, when Amira sat, she had he full undivided attention. She spoke about options, none of which had occured to Willie until the last, but it came with the caveat of being a hatchet man. Whatever a hatchet man was, it didn't sound like the sort of title one was given for doing anything mundane, it sounded rather dangerous. Not something Willie was about to jump into head first.

He shrugged, eyeing the plate of food, but daring not to reach out for any of it himself. Nothing offered, meant nothing gained.

"I can't say what I'd be interested in. I've never done any of those things before. Hell I doubt I've done much of anything in this line of work at all before. In the past when I take a job, I'm told what to do, and I go do it. And if I don't know how I learn, or I get fired."

He glanced back toward Garrett, "And it sounds like if I don't learn, I get a bit more than fired nowadays." He looked back toward Amira then. "Honestly, if you need an enforcer to go collect, then I can do that. That's nothing to difficult, but it seems like you're looking for someone closer to running things, and that isn't a job for someone who runs things."

He sat up straighter in the chair. "If I get this right, you need people to do things that you don't have time or energy to do. You're expanding from Los Angeles, which means, you need to be able to drop what you're doing here, and travle there at a moment's notice if shit hits the fan." He watched a bit more closely now to gauge her reaction.

"Which means you need someone to be able to pick up where you left off, and I'm guessing that's his job." He threw a thumb in the direction og Garrett. "But that only works so far as he can trust the people answering to you. Cause if the cat's gone the mice will play, and everyone knows, he's not you. That's why he's here in the room doing this too. He's pretending not to notice, or to care, but he's watching and learning about me just as much as you are."

He nodded to himself and continued.

"Now I'm good with answering to both of you, but seems like you already have enforcers, and you already have drivers, and you already have hatchetmen. What you didn't mention was someone to manage anyone. You're managing all of them, and Garrett over here is managing you. What I mean is, he's picking up things your forget, or don't have time for. The real question is, what division of Azra do you just not have time for? Cause it seems like that is what you're hiring me to watch over."

He put up his hands.

"Not right away of course, like you said I need to shadow you and learn my way around the place first. But you need people who are willing to answer to you, and Ligambi, and Garrett all at once, but who can watch over folks who don't know they work for the mob at the same time. So once I learn where you need eyes, then I'll manage those folks for you. You're paying me enough to be a manager of people, might as well let me do that instead of being a grunt right?"

From his chair, Garrett raised his eyebrows and stifled a smile while nodding, as if to say "Well, he's not entirely wrong," but didn't make a peep. Amira, however, slightly rolled her eyes.

"Oy vey, thanks for that. I'm not going to hear the end of that from Garrett for a while."

She smirked without looking back to him, then continued.

"You're half right. Dr. Mitchell is invaluable to my operation, but his employment is neither security nor work for Mr. Ligambi. I'm sure he'll fill you in on all that later, however he does that. Anyway, your assessment of my needs for Azra are quite astute. I have a number of leadership positions that need to be filled, as my previous executive team is...no longer with me. I have a lot of rebuilding to do."

Setting down her coffee cup, she tapped her palms on her knees and sat up straight.

"So, let's not haggle with titles for now, I'll make something up for your onboarding documents and your office door. For now, you can shadow me until you have an idea of which department you'd like to head. How does that sound to you?"

She started to reach for her coffee again, then paused and glanced up at him with a kind of a cocky grin.

"...and yes, before you ask, we have work to do today."

William watcher the two exchange glances, but found himself slightly upset by how off he was on their relationship. Although, that also meant she didn't have a number two here. That could be good, or bad.

Still he nodded along when she spoke.

"Call me the paperboy for all I care, as long as I have something to do." He looked over the table at Amirs.

"So, what are we up to then? Recruiting more people to fill these executive roles? Got folks in mind? I'm sure we could do something to entice them over this way right?"

He was getting ahead of himself, but there was one other thing on his mind. "Hey, I know you don't want to haggle, but if I give up part of my salary, can I get my own Jeanette?" If for nothing else it would be nice to have someone to bring *him* a coffee in the morning. He'd be happy to pay just for that much. This gig Amira had was cushy, no dobut about it.

Amira was about to say something when Garrett nonchalantly cleared his throat. Looking down at her watch, Amira stood from her chair.

"How about I reassign Jeannette to you? She's not my secretary per se, she's been working with us to get things started, and was going to be assigned someone when offices started to fill up. But, since an office is now filled, she can be assigned. You seem to be a man that knows how to be 'respectfully appreciative' of a good looking young woman."

She looked at Garrett, who was putting his book away, then back at William. 

"If you will excuse me, I need to take care of something which requires no shadowing. Dr. Mitchell will take you through some information in the meantime. When I get back, we'll find your office and get to the heavy lifting of the day."

With that, she nodded to the two gentlemen. Garrett stood and watched Amira as she walked out the door. When it shut completely, he turned to William and gave him a cheerful grin.

"Congratulations on your new role, Mr. Butcher. If you want to run now, I'll cover for you."

There was a jovial gleam in his eye. Garrett Mitchell was a man who knew his craft frighteningly well, but never took himself extremely seriously and always had a slick line or a joke in his back pocket. He joined William across the coffee table, pouring himself a cup of coffee and settling into the seat Amira had been in. 

"By the way, the cutting out your tongue and burying you thing was a joke. Mostly. It was a line my friend used to use on new guys in Amira's employ. It always got some pretty funny reactions. But, the spirit of the joke remains. As you can imagine, these people take this sort of thing very seriously, for good reason."

He went about adding an absurd amount of sugar and cream to his coffee cup as he spoke.

"My job is to let you know a bit about your new boss, and to pick through your head and find out if you're going to present any kind of problems she needs to know about. But I've already done that part, I believe, so we can get to the easy stuff, as it were."

Sitting back in the seat with his cup, he continued.

"Have you had any experience with mental illness, Mr. Butcher?"

Willie looked the man up and down once, taking in the new role he was presenting. More than that, he was taking in the airs of a guy who knew way more about him than he was comfortable with. At least, for now.

"No, I've never been to a loony bin. Nor have I needed to. Can't say I've seen anything that would put me there though to be fair. Like I told Amira yesterday, I was a bus driver before I got laid off and had to start looking for other work. It's not like I've got a lot of expeirence with things other than trying to scrape by."

He leaned forward. "You think I could have a cup of this Joe?" He asked as he poured some into a free cup clearly meant for him. "I know it wasn't offered, but the cups are there, and I dount it's just for show."

He took a sip, letting the bitterness hit his tongue. It sat for a moment before he swallowed and then looked over toward the door.

"I hadn't thought about running until you mentioned it, and while I appreciate the joke, I don't think I'd want you to cover for me if I did. I think she's be more appreciative of me telling her the truth. If this life wasn't for me, then say it, and be out. I think I'll do alright though. Sure everyone gets their hands dirty, but who doesn't really? better to do it in a suit with a roof over your head, than on the docks with soggy bread in the rain."

He took another long pull of the coffee and wiated for the next set of questions to be posed.

Garrett nodded once, emphatically.

"On that, you are completely correct. Ms. Dayan is a 'no bullshit' kind of woman- it's best not to play the long game with her. And of course, that coffee was meant for you, as well. Chalk it up to her cultural differences- where she is from, when there is a guest, refreshments are served and it is simply known and accepted that they are meant for everyone. Every now and then she will forget the finer points of American hospitality. Just know, going forward, that if you are with Amira and there is food, it's there for you as well; even if you and she are the guests."

He huffed a bit of a laugh.

"Lagging around with her does have some perks."

The understatement was implied, but then his facial expression went just slightly more serious and he sat his cup down.

"I am a criminal psychologist. Well, that's what my Doctorate is in. These days I'm more of a consultant to Amira, but my profession is of use to her in several ways. One of them is getting a feel for the people she brings on board; partially to make sure that they won't cause her any trouble, and partially to make sure that they have the fortitude to handle working quite so closely with her."

He sat back against the seat and nodded toward the door of the office. This was the part when most people began to understand the "running" joke.

"That is a formidable woman, Mr. Butcher. She comes off as a business-minded executive with her hands in a dirty business; but what you need to be keenly aware of is that Amira Dayan is a killer- an assassin, in fact. And if you think that working with her is simply going to be a matter of driving a getaway car while she hangs out the window with a Tommy gun, you are underestimating her greatly."

Garrett next gestured to an ornately carved cabinet that sat near Amira's desk. 

"Locked in that cabinet is a frightening array of blades. You see, if Amira Dayan is going to kill you, you're dead before you know she's there. She doesn't need the safer distance a gun provides. She is silent and wickedly fast. Do you remember the story that went through the papers a little over a year ago about that warehouse killing spree in Las Vegas? The one where the drug lord was found gutted like a fish? The blade that did it is sitting right over there. It belonged to her father, Ezra."

Garrett changed his course now, having put enough emphasis on who she was now.

"I like how you put it, that I 'manage' Amira. And yes, I will mercilessly use that against her until I draw my dying breath; probably at her hand. But, the other thing you need to know is that Amira Dayan was not always this way. The woman you are now signed up to work with is the result of a massive mental break that went untreated and then mistreated for nearly a year. She lived in a state of what we call hyperactive delusion, which was brought on when she witnessed the brutal murder of her first working partner, who took several bullets that were meant to kill her. The two were close- with a family connection- and the guilt of his death and loss of his friendship was more than the young Amira Dayan could take at the time. Unfortunately, she did not share her struggle with anyone, and instead kept to herself until a continued loss of sleep, malnutrition, and the onset of psychosis was blaringly apparent. By then she had, for all intents and purposes, slipped into a homicidal madness. Like I said, it went untreated for some time, and when it was finally recognized, a hack physician administered a medication that only served to exacerbate her condition. It was in that state that she found this penchant for ruthless, cold, and bloody murder. She was afflicted with voices in her head, visions of things that were not there- a clear disconnection from reality. Her boss, at the time, found it quite useful, because she was an excellent assassin. However, her head of security saw that it was going to end badly if something didn't change. His name was Spencer. That is when I was hired. My original job was to 'cure' her of the psychosis so that she would no longer be a danger to herself or those around her."

By this time, Garrett was sitting up again, his elbows on his knees as he explained the story.

"Over time, we've managed to keep her very nearly normal; but conditions like that don't magically go away. My job now is to assure that she stays at a functional, safe level. Therefore, I have to be 100% certain that those working with her will not trigger anything we don't want. But I also have to be assured, for your safety, that you understand completely what you are getting into. Hence, run now if you wish."

He cleared his throat and took his coffee again, taking a sip. Looking over the cup, he gave a pleasant smile.

"Other than that, she's quite a lovely woman to work with."

As Garrett spoke, Willie's brow furrowed. It did not stop as the man stopped speaking. There was quite a lot to unpack in everything there. He had just been hired by a crazy woman, and the man sitting in front of him was a quack doctor who though he could keep her in check.

And yet, here was Willie, all bust starving, and the money was already good, so who was he to argue? Only a fool would fight agains something that was this good. And Willie wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"So are you just going to tell me that I work for a crazy woman then and ask me a bunch of questions so you know if I'm gonna make her worse? Or are you planning on giving me some advice? Cause from my standpoint, I should learn exactly what I need to know to do whatever job she gives me, and then steer very very fucking clear."

He put his coffee mug down.

"Not to be crass, but that sounds like my best bet at saefty right now."

He stood up for a second and began to pace.

"Beyond that though, one of two things is true. Either you're employed by her now because she wants you around and believes you're going to continue to help her, or..."

He looked toward the doctor as he paced.

"You're employed by her boss to make sure she doesn't go out of control and lose him something he needs to keep control of. Even if that just means making sure she can cover her tracks so he doesn't get dragged down with her."

He stopped behind the chair he was in a moment ago and gripped the back with both his hands.

"Either way doesn't matter, the point is, you're here to make sure that her crazy is managebale. I get that much. I'm here to make sure there's less shit to make her relapse like an addict. I don't care which one of them employs you, if it's her, then she's self-aware. She seems pretty self-aware anyway." Willie waived a hand dismissively at the thought. "If you're employed by her boss, he's smart enough to have seen a marked imporvement, and you've done a good enough job to be kept around."

Willie shrugged and sat back down.

"Only question I got is, are you gonna be here to manag other people too, or just her? If I start to go off the deep end, do you have my back Doc?"

Garrett watched as the gentleman paced a few times, working through all the information thrown at him in his own way. Everyone did something. In fact, this fellow's response was about the most level-headed one he had seen in a while. He drained his coffee cup as the final question was posed.

"I am a privately paid consultant to Ms. Dayan; though you should know that in the time since my hiring, she has become a very dear friend. So, yes, as you put it, her wellbeing is my primary focus. However, I've always been happily open to speaking with anyone within her bubble of existence that could use some friendly advice. And for that, I do not charge. Amira pays well enough."

He watched for William's reaction to his next words.

"You may not see it now, Mr. Butcher, but you are likely to find in Amira far more than an employer or simply a coworker. I was told that when she was detoxed from the librium she was given, I was free to go; but somehow I found that I rather liked working with her, and the people that she surrounds herself with. Yes, Amira Dayan may be a textbook criminal; and you, sir, are not by nature. But that doesn't mean that you are at odds with her. I suspect that she may surprise you."

Willie shook his head. "I'm not the law Doc, by nature I'm not at odds with criminals. Now if someone is trying to murder me or my family, then I'm at odds with them. Maybe if they are trying to steal from me too, but I've had to do that myself to get food before so, maybe not. I might not be a hardened criminal who has seen jail, but I also don't give enough of a shit about people to care whether they are or not. Makes no difference as long as they aren't in my three categories."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked himself. "You know the three categories right?" He counted on his fingers as he spoke them. "Category one, people that feed you. Some people call it family, some people expand it to mean anyone that works in their favorite restaurant. Don't fuck with those people."

He ticked off a second finger. "Poeple that finance you. Whehter it's your boss, someone you owe money to, or a good friend who gave you a gift. You don't fuck with those people."

He nodded a head toward the door as he ticked off the last finger. "People who are fucking you. In my case, I expand that one to people I'd like to fuck. And I think we both know I'm not talking about Amria." He left it at that for the moment. "Say it with me, you don't fuck with those people."

He smiled as he put his hand to the coffee mug again and picked it up to take a drink.

"Now if Miss Dayan and I become friends, all the better, but I'm not getting in to a job expecting to be friends. She's my employer, and she should be shown some respect just for that alone. As for you, if she pays you well enough to have a chat with should I ned it, I'll come knocking. If she doesn't you tell me what you charge and I'll see if I can scrounge it together."

Willie finished his coffee and put the mug down.

"I'm glad you found a friend though for what it's worth. I just hope she sees you as a friend too Doc, friendship that only goes one way can drive a man to drink."

Dr. Mitchell was about to reply when the office door reopened. Amira strolled back in, holding a yellow slip of paper in her hand. She moved directly to her desk, opening a drawer near the bottom.

"I'm afraid picking out your office is going to have to wait. Things have come up."

There was a small metal box with a spinlock on it, which Amira maneuvered easily until the lid popped open. From that, she took what looked to be an antique brass key. Garrett, recognizing this routine, stood and poured himself another cup of coffee.

"That is my cue to make my way to my own office. Amira, I will give you a rundown on that case file from yesterday whenever you have a moment; but I don't see anything worth noting there, so no rush."

Amira glanced up and nodded to him.

"Thank you, Garrett. We should be back in two or three hours."

"Squirrel hunting?" he asked casually?

"Bird watching." Amira replied, taking the key to the cabinet and sliding it into the lock. Garrett shot a look at William.

"Must be some big birds." Before moving for the door, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and handed William a card. "Call this man. His name is Lawrence and he will outfit you like a Duke. Don't let any of these old men tell you that you have to wear black. How dreary. You make the rules now, Mr. Butcher."

With that, he sauntered out of the office as Amira pulled a leather waist cincher from the cabinet and began to fasten it around her waist. When he was out of the room, she waited a few beats, then started speaking.

"We're heading east of here. Bell Boulevard near 217th Street. I have word that one of the men who move some of Joe's product is selling it to another dealer at a higher cost and keeping the profit for himself."

Amira removed two wickedly curved weapons from the cabinet and slide them into built-in sheaths in the corset. Three small, silver stiletto blades went on each side. After locking the cabinet, she went to a coat rack and removed a dark grey, long duster jacket with a hood and began slipping it on.

"You will drive for this one. My security does their job when I'm doing regular business. Trips like this, they are not needed and not part of that side of things anyway. We're going to watch and see what happens. If he's doing what has been reported, well, that is most unfortunate for him."

Reaching into the pocket of the coat, she took out a set of keys and underhanded them toward William.

Willie reached up and caught the keys.

"Whatever you say Miss Dayan. Mind if I ask a question though since I'm learning?"

He waitied for only a quick beat before continuing.

"Do you already have something in mind for this guy if he's doing what was reported? Because that sounds to me like, yes he's a greedy fuck, and she should certianly be punished for it. But he also found a hole in the supply chain which means you could be raising your own prices and see an increase in profits if you just took his business away from him."

He shrugged.

"I'm here to learn, not tell you what to do, but if you were planning on removing him entirely, you might want to do it slowly so you can extract the information he's got. Clearly it's worth enough money to fuck you over. Don't let it go to waste."

He put the mug of coffee down and then turned toward the door.

"Also, do we have anything I can borrow? I don't have anything to defend myself or the car with should push come to shove. It would be good to have just in case he's got moor goons than you anticipate. Or if they are loyal to him more than they are to you."

He started toward the door without waiting for an answer. If they had something she'd make the call and it would be in his hands before they walked out the front door. If they didn't he would grab the tire iron from the trunk before they left.

Either way, he needed to bring the car around.

"I'll take care of it and meet you out front. Wendell will show you the car."

She watched as William walked out of the office, noticing a hint of determination in his step. He had a purpose now, and his focus was sharp. 

Finally, she pulled her well-worn boots from beneath the cabinet and stepped out of her heels. Amira much preferred these to dress shoes, but convention being what it was, she had to dress the part in the business world. Slipping into her boots, though, she felt more herself. She was able to let go of airs and bullshit, and remember the things that made her; running through the woods behind the Firm HQ in Las Vegas at night, the hours spent training with her blades, the metallic smell of blood...and the voices. As she headed for the door, she briefly caught her reflection in the picture mirror hanging on the wall. The image staring back at her seemed to want to say something, but she moved on before giving it the time.

Before making her way down to the lobby, she stopped at the sixth floor and punched in a code that opened the door to the armory. There was no clerk hired yet for this floor yet, and that was going to need to be a priority soon. Going past a few rows of weapons, she came to the wall of handguns and selected two Colt 45 revolvers already loaded. They went into the inner pockets of her jacket, and she returned to the elevator.

On the ride down, she mentally prepared herself for what was waiting. She hadn't seen the car since he was killed, but they needed a civilian car for this, and the '54 Buick Skylark was the best for the job. She hoped it didn't smell the same, but in a way, she hoped it did. 

Willie made his way down to the lobby and Wendell was there waiting for him. The other man tossed him a set of keys, which Willie dropped before picking up.

Wendell shook his head at the misstep but Willie shrugged. "I'm driving, not catching."

Wendell just scoffed and made his way out the door, Willie in tow. "Anything I need to know about the car? Handling issues, overheating?"

Wendell nodded. "Couple things, Buick Skylark '54, it's kept in good shape, tank is full, but the alignment is slightly off. Go over 45 and it'll start to pull to the left a little bit."

Wille nodded, and looked toward the car, it was a beautiful blue, and had clearly been washed before it was put in place here. He wondered a moment whose job it was to do that. Clearly someone was in charge of keeping the cars maintained. For the first time in years he thought about the possibility of getting his own vehicle. He would have to sk Amira about the person in charge of that, and if there wasn't someone, he might explore hiring someone for the job.

He hopped in, making sure to take care not to slam the door even accidentally. Turning the key, the car purred to life and he pulled out to the front of the building.

He saw Amira stepping out of the front door, just as he put the car into park.