the smuggler’s bible

Soner

Soner finds the spec-sheet for the new order on his desk with a note, unsigned.

Client values speed. Make all possible haste.

Flipping through the first few dozen pages reveals that the job will require a complicated web of production efficiencies and the invention of several new technologies.

Soner sets the packet down gently. He slips on his jacket and departs, mumbling something about coffee.

They never see his ass again. Absconded. Gone for good. His notice arrives seven months later, scrawled on the back of a crumpled postcard beside a cartoon alligator wearing a snorkel and, improbably, swimming trunks.