Snippet #1732203

Christian Jacobs - Edinburgh

It wasn't easy dealing with people like this, worse they weren't known for being so forgiving, they had promised information in return for killing someone named Patrick Winters, an Ex-IRA agent who had decided to return to field. This wasn't good for government image, so he was being paid to make sure his welcome back parade was down before it begun. Patrick Winters had been behind many of the IRA biggest bomb threats, but unfortunately for England, he had gone missing until now. So it was job of White Chess to do what the Government couldn't do.

So he ended up talking to some other IRA men, the men who would rather snap his neck, than see an English guy hold power over them. But despite all this, the IRA were basically defunct, the Real IRA was another story altogether, but the men here were some of the best of the organization, yet they wanted Patrick to be put down. Why? Because they were tired old men.

Still it wasn't popular work, and this is why he was in an Edinburgh discussing final arrangements. Play nice with the locals from the Island and keep things cool. No Government interference whatsoever, but something needed to be done.

And that it had been done, shot between eyes and all indication of him being former IRA was destroyed. It had been quite simple, for someone who wanted to get back into work, he sure fucked up tremendously, no false name, local hotel and materials bought from Asda and Homebase.

"Well, Gentleman, your problem is solved. Patrick Winters is dead. I'll be requiring fee we promised and I hope we never have to deal again."

One of the burlier ones smirked, "Feeling mutual Knight, keep out of affairs of Ireland and we'll likely never meet again."

With that they left, just as Christian mobile rang; snapping it open he answered.

"Hello, mission complete. That is all--"

Just as he was about hang-up he heard a voice yelling stop on intercom. This was highly unprofessional, "We can't talk right now--"

"I don't care, White Knight you are to return to London, please take private jet and don't delay. Details be given when you arrive back. That is all."

"What the f--" Christian begun to exclaim.

"That is all."

With that the phone hung up, and he sighed.

Back to Dear Ol' Blighty I guess.