"Do I know you, Miss?"
"No," I said. "We've never met. But I was hired by someone you do know. I've been paid a lot of money to kill you. No hard feelings, okay? It's nothing personal, just my job."
I knew his bodyguard had stepped inside briefly for a cup of coffee. He looked wildly about, getting ready to sound an alarm. I held my silenced weapon, in my left hand, concealed in my shoulder bag. The suppressor was aimed at the center of his chest.
He saw the look on my face, and decided not to yell out. Instead, he said, "Look, I'm a very wealthy man. I can pay you a lot more to let me live that you've been paid to kill me. How about it?"
"Sorry," I said and I quickly moved forward and shot him three times at point blank range. I jumped back as his body fell, and called out:
"Somebody call a doctor. There's something wrong with this poor man!" Then I melted into the gathering crowd.
I had been paid well over a million dollars to kill the man named Jim, whom I already knew to be a very wealthy man. I am certain he would have paid me whatever amount I asked to spare his life. But that's not my way of doing things.
It's probably mostly true that there is no honor among thieves; but as a top gun professional assassin I live by a different code of ethics.
(Submitted in the 500-word maximum category.)