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Rat And Parrot

Ben

The Rat & Parrot was a shitty hole-in-the-ground kind of pub in a bad neighborhood that I would never have gone to if my hand hadn’t been forced. The lighting was low, but it wasn’t for ambiance. When I stepped in through the doors, everyone looked at me. It was clear I was far from home. I was glad I hadn’t put on a suit, which I had considered for this meeting.

Then again, Victor Brantley was nothing more than a piece of shit at the bottom of my shoe, as far as I was concerned. He hadn’t deserved a suit. And judging by his meeting spot of choice, I had been right. No one who kidnapped and killed people was worth respect, in my humble opinion.

I had no idea where to find the guy. I had hoped he would stick out to me, but everyone in this joint looked like they had crawled out of the gutter. That had been the plan. At least half of the guys in the bar were people I’d paid to be there. Money could talk all kinds of languages.

Someone at the bar lifted a hand in a wave to me. A pair
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