That's what the note in the briefcase said. Charlie's palms were sweating as he sped down Highway 10. There was supposed to be money, a lot of money. That's what the man with the black gloves had told him when he'd agreed to take the job.
"A quick in and out, Charlie," he'd said, smiling out the words. He'd smiled the entire conversation. But there wasn't any money in the briefcase, and a purple glow was growing over the desert mountains.