A few minutes outside of New York, Tim called Jon and arranged to meet with him late that night. He also wanted to see Darryl Kirkland, Paul’s assassin, but Jon maintained that he had tried to reach him over the phone several times and he was unreachable. At any rate, Tim had to visit his friend’s apartment in Queens, in order to give him his answer about the burglary in North Haven. He wouldn’t discuss it over the phone and they would afterwards talk through the details of the operation. As much as he hated it, Tim would have to swallow his impatience and wait for at least another day to get some answers from Kirkland.

Caitlin and Josephine seemed to get along very well, right from the start. Helped by the fact that they had each taken classes under Jitter, as their college professor, they soon started sharing stories from his classes and college in general. Tim felt left out, but he didn’t mind. Seeing them in such great spirits pleased him. More importantly though, it gave him the necessary time to focus on the task at hand: breaking into a luxurious mansion in one of the most expensive suburbs in New York was the most challenging job he had ever planned. He would have to consider many factors: time; surrounding houses; traffic; and especially, the police presence in the area. Despite all the adversities that he would have to face, he knew that he could rely on Jon. He was a fantastic driver and an exceptional hacker indeed.

The elevator door in Jon’s old apartment building closed heavily behind him, as he stepped out of the empty car on the second floor. Tim knocked on his friend’s door, wondering at the same time why he had been living in such a cheap, neglected building. Even the brown, wooden door was faded and a few chunks of wood were missing.

“Heeey, big Tim!” Jon cheered, answering his door. “How are you, man? Come on in.”

“Hi, Jonny,” Tim winked at him, following him into his small living room. “You’d think that a kickass burglar like you would live in some big, fancy apartment. Why the hell did you choose this dump?”

“It doesn’t attract too much attention.” Jon pointed out, brushing past him. “Take a seat.” He continued, pointing at the couch to the right.

“So…” Tim started, seating himself next to his friend. “I’ve been thinking. Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Jon punched the air. “That’s what I’m talking about, baby!”

“How much money are we talking about here?” Tim asked, slightly leaning over him.

“I don’t know, Tim,” Jon shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t know for sure. But, he’s been dealing drugs for years. There must be more than one million in his vault.”

“One million dollars?” Tim opened his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah, maybe even more.” Jon said with a nod. “I need to talk to you about that security system. You’ll have to do all the heavy lifting all by yourself.”

“What else is new?” Tim smiled. “Man, I’ve been dying to meet that Kirkland guy.”

“Damn…” Jon groaned, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I forgot to mention. I found him; he’s on his way over.”

His friend’s last sentence lifted a weight off his shoulders. Tim sighed in relief, leaning his back against the couch.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while” he stated, running his hand through his hair. “When did you guys talk?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. He lives nearby.” Jon said. At that moment, his doorbell rang. Tim arose to his imposing, 6’2” stature, eagerly anticipating to finally meeting the mysterious hitman. When Jon answered his door however, he realized that he was nothing like he expected: Darryl Kirkland was much older than him and quite short, not more than 5’7” and rather thin for his build.

“Darryl, this is my good buddy Tim. Tim, this is Darryl.” Jon introduced them. “You guys need something to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Darryl said, offering his hand to Tim. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hey, Darryl,” Tim replied, his voice dropping down an octave as he shook his hand. “Just some water for me,” he added, turning to his friend.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Darryl spoke in a hoarse voice.

“I was going to say the same thing,” Tim claimed, as Jon made his way to the kitchen. “My friend here says that you’re one of the best in the business. Does it pay well?”

“That depends on the client,” Darryl responded, his voice calm and steady. “I charge the rich a hell of a lot more. Why?”

“Just curious,” Tim maintained, looking down into his cold, grey eyes. “Was your last client rich?”

“No.” He was quick to reply. “She wasn’t rich, really.”

“She?” Tim squinted at him. “Your last client was a woman?”

“That’s right.” Darryl gave a decisive nod. “Our mutual acquaintance said she was a scientist or something.”

The assassin’s answer baffled him. It contradicted his theory of Burt Maddox being behind Jitter’s assassination. The number of questions in his mind was growing by the second, as he recalled the fatal night. Still, deep down, Tim knew that he would not get many more answers by being polite. Darryl Kirkland was a total stranger to him, but he had met a few men like him in the past. No assassin ever betrays his client’s trust. It’s a matter of professionalism.

Tim took a big step towards him, maintaining eye contact. Quickly lifting his arms, he grabbed him by the collar of his coat. He spun him around once and threw him against the wall to the left. Darryl landed hard on his right hand side, letting out a scream of agonizing pain. But Tim was not done with him. He sprinted across the living room, as Darryl rolled onto his back. Stopping directly over him, Tim bent his knees, clenching his fists and sat on Darryl’s chest. Tim threw his right arm, rotated it mid-way and laid a powerful jab in the eye of a stunned Darryl.

“Tim, what the fuck!” Jon cried, reentering his living room.

“Alright, Kirkland,” Tim grumbled, as he grabbed him by the throat. “I suggest you start talking, before I really lose my patience. What was her name?”

“I don’t…” Darryl gasped. “I don’t know!”

“Wrong answer!” His powerful voice rumbled like thunder, before he landed a second, tremendous punch to Kirkland’s jaw. Tim hit him so hard that his head snapped to the side. “Try again!” He yelled, tightening his grip on his throat.

“Dude, you’re killing him!” Jon interjected, running towards them.

“Ok…” A low gasp left Darryl’s lips, as a drop of blood rolled down his cheek. Tim loosened his grip, feeling his blood boil in his veins and pound in his temples.

“I met her in an underground parking lot in Manhattan.” Darryl confessed. “It was dark. She was about my height; she had brown hair, I think. I swear; I don’t know her name. She paid me $50,000 to take him out.”

Tim was shocked to his very core. The woman that Kirkland had just described sounded a lot like Josephine. Tim let go of Darryl. Dropping his face into his hands, Tim found himself unable to believe what he had just heard. He couldn’t even find the strength to move. Jon grabbed Tim by the wrist and tried to drag him away from the unfortunate, battered man. Only then did Tim get up on his knees.

“Tim, what is it, man?” Jon said, gasping for breath.

“Nothing,” the thief muttered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. “I just figured something out. I have to go.”

He spun around and stormed out of his friend’s apartment, trying hard to come to grips with the possibility that Josephine could be the one who had Jitter killed. Still, he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that some points were very wrong with Kirkland’s story. How did Josephine suddenly come up with $50,000? That is a lot of money for an underpaid biologist like her. At the same time, he realized that he had not checked whether what she had said to him about her deceased fiancé was true or not.

Damn it, Tim! She fed you some story about him being gay and you bought it? Why? What the hell is wrong with you? I wanted to believe it. She seemed honest; she even cried when she talked about him. Wait a minute. She said something about the things she’s done, back in that bar. What did she mean by that? I’m going crazy here! I need to see you, Joey. And you’d better have some good explanation about all this…