How Do You Like Your Blue-Eyed Boy, Mister Death?
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           The drug lord cowered at Rush’s feet.  All of his pretense and bravado had been swiftly replaced by pitiable begging and pleading.  Rush looked at the pathetic man with contempt, placing the barrel of his silenced 70 Jaguar behind the mark’s right ear.  Just behind him, over his shoulder, Rush could sense the Presence.  He knew that if he turned around that he would see It standing there, eagerly nodding its head in encouragement.  Wherever he went, whoever his next hit was, the Presence was there, ready to urge, and gather up what Rush left behind.

            He had first notice his dark companion in Belfast on his twenty-fifth hit.  The contract had been for a high ranking officer within...

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