Baz steps into the small windowless room and fixes me with a grim expression.

Come on, Baz, I say. It was a set up. Someone wants me out of the picture.

Baz says nothing. His dark eyes looking past me at the two guards standing close by.

His dark skin is wrinkled, his dreadlocks threaded with gray. Despite his age, he moves smoothly,

clearly still capable after all these years. He has taught me a lot, and he's always at my back.

But this time, I'm not so sure even he can get me out of this.

Give us a minute, he says to the guards.

It's almost time, sir. One of the guards says,

I know what time it is, Baz says. He holds a bequean one hand and tells the guards that he'll

remove my cuffs before I go out into the corridor to face what I have to face.

The guards move through the same door Baz used, glancing at me with something like relief on their

faces. They didn't want to be the ones to remove my cuffs, anyway. They know what my hands are

capable of. Once they're gone, I say. The job was approved by the association. Someone messed with

the package, had me kill the wrong guy. I looked at the package myself. Baz says, it seemed fine

to me. Yeah, well, it would, wouldn't it? Otherwise, it wouldn't be much of a setup. Baz says,

there's nothing I can do for you, Slade. I know who it is. That bastard, Baz, back hands me

across the mouth, cutting the words off. Right now, you still have a chance of getting out of this

alive, he says. Not much of a chance, but it's better than nothing. If you start throwing accusations

around, they'll just have you executed. I clenched my jaw, knowing he's right. Baz sticks his hands

in his pockets and glances at the floor. He walks around behind me to where my hands are cuffed.

I think he's just going to release my hands, like the rules state. But I feel a sharp pain in my wrist.

I don't say anything and don't make a move. I trust Baz implicitly. And I think I know what he's

...