the smuggler’s bible

Hamlet

Two men dead in the elevator. Hamlet shoves one aside and the door closes softly. There’s a messy splatter across the button panel. He picks the top floor. A chime and motion. He reloads, takes a deep breath. He’ll be exposed at the top. Fragile as an eggshell.

The door slides open and a burst of high-powered rifle fire chews into one of the corpses.

“Is that the Dane out there?” someone shouts. The rifle chatters again, then a second voice, much closer, says, “Don’t be sore, old friend. Things change. We’re taking advantage of a world that’s grown honest.”