Espionage/Thriller   by BILL MACWITHEY

Prologue

Actually, Arnie sort of wished he didn't have to kill Rogers.  When he pulled off the main highway and turned down a little-used dirt road on the outskirts of La Paz, Bill Rogers looked at his watch and asked, "Where the hell you goin', Arnie?"

With an indefinable smile, Arnie answered, "Right here," as he pulled to the side of the road.

Apparent urgency filled Rogers’ voice and manner.  "Man, what the hell for?  They have bathrooms at the airport, for Christ’s sake.  They'll probably find that bastard any time, now.  We barely have time to make our flight.”

Arnie slid the Glock from its shoulder holster, pointed it at Rogers and smiled.  "You'll never have to worry about missing a flight again, pal."

Rogers hugged the passenger door, his expression a mixture of confusion and fear.  "What the fuck's the matter with you, Arnie?  Why you doin' this?"

He shrugged his shoulders and stared at Rogers a brief moment before answering.  "You know, Bill, to tell the truth, I really wish I didn't have to kill you.  You’re kind of a likable guy.  But, hell… You gotta understand, I can’t leave a loose end running around out there to point a finger."

"My God, Arnie, I ain't no goddamned loose end.  You know me better than that.  You could just as easily point the finger at me.  C'mon, man, quit your damned clowning around, get out and take your piss and let's get to the fuckin' airport!"

Arnie's slight smile changed to an evil grin, as Rogers spoke.  He knew Rogers was aware he was going to die.  Hell, that was half the fun - let the victim know ahead of time and watch him squirm.  It was the best part of the kill.  The damned dictator they had taken out an hour earlier was no fun at all.  A quick shot through his bedroom window, sneak back through the field drain to the outside of the compound and run.  Shit, that was no way to kill someone.  Face to face, by God.  Not like a sneaky goddamned coward.  Right in front of the bastard!  Right where you could see the terror in the fucker's eyes.  That was killing.

It seemed much longer than it actually was before Arnie spoke again.  "Yeah… well, what can I say?  I ain't never taken the chance and I'm still alive.  So I sure as hell won't take the chance, now.  It's just the way things are, buddy."  Arnie chuckled slightly and said, I do want you to know, though, I like you.  You got the balls I admire in a man."

As he raised the weapon level with Rogers' head, the CIA agent screamed, "You crazy sonofabitch!" and grabbed for the door handle… too late.  The exploding bullet left a small hole on the left rear of his head and blew the right front of his head through the closed window, leaving a hole as big as a fist, surrounded by what had been Rogers' brain.  As an afterthought, Arnie wished he'd made Rogers get out of the car.  Damn, that made a mess.

Replacing the Glock in its holster, he quickly climbed out the driver’s door and moved around the car.  After dragging Rogers’ body into the brush, he unsnapped the holster and threw it and the weapon as far as he could into the thick undergrowth.  Arnie shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears caused by the loud shot within the car and again thought,  Dam, I shoulda made him get out.

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