the smuggler’s bible


The client wants something impossible. Hilda realizes this on the first day. Smear jobs are always chancy. Still, the expense account means a few hot lunches, so she sticks it out.

But worse than a stubborn client is a mark who fumbles when they’re ahead. Hilda is parked across the street, watching through the cafe’s front window as he orders coffee for the eighth time that week. She sees it clear and certain as he pays in cash and neglects to tip the barista.

“Oh, you bastard,” Hilda hisses, snapping pictures. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t you find a puppy to kick?”