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June 9, 2005

Stacy: Precious Cargo

I roll down the window, accept the envelope from the shadow.

"Deliver this to 19 Ville de Sanchez, Cartagena," the accented voice says. "Ask for Senor…"

I hold up my hand. "Rule number two, no names."

The shadow steps back silently. I accelerate away.

I must get into a better line of work, I think irritably. The transporting of items for anonymous clients was interesting, but hard on the nerves.

I arrive in Cartagena at sunrise, pull up to the address. A man in silk pajamas rushes down the steps, rips open the envelope.

"They’re here!" he exclaims. "Knicks tickets!"

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