The man didn't reply, and it took Crace a moment to realise death was tapping his index finger on the table.

He watched it. Eight, nine, ten, before the finger pressed another square on the iPad,

"You want me to execute your wife, Karen, who works as a lawyer Maybrick Legal Inc. You want me to do this so that you can inherit Karen's wealth, wealth that was left to her by her father who died last year, and also a joint six million dollar insurance policy that is payable should either of you die before your apartment is paid for. Is this correct?"

"Jesus, it sounds like I am one evil son of a bitch, but let me tell you buddy, she is looking to nail my ass to the wall if the divorce she is threatening me with goes though. I'm in a hole here, I gotta girlfriend who is pushing me to move in with her, my job is up and down, it ain't easy being a broker these days I gotta tell you. I can't afford to split from that bitch and get a divorce."

"Answer yes or no."

"Yes. Jesus Christ! It's correct. Yes."

"If you wish to leave now you may do. We will never see each other or speak again and you will be safe to carry on with your life as if this meeting had never taken place. You have ten seconds to get up and leave the table."

This time Crace counted along with the tapping finger, eight nine ten. He didn't leave; he just sat with his hands on the table like the first email had told him too.

"You are about to contract me to kill your wife Karen. You must place the first fifteen thousand dollars, as instructed, in a brown paper parcel, in used one hundred dollar bills onto the table. Once I pick up the money the deal is final with no provision for alteration or cancelation. Do you understand? Yes or No?"

Crace licked his lips and then chewed the bottom one, this was it, at last he was out of it and now his heart beat a little faster in excitement. There was no way this could come back on him, he'd been careful to cover his tracks with this, there was no way any of it could be traced, all he had to do was look surprised when the cops told him Karen was dead, he'd been acting all his life, one more little scene would be easy to play.

"Yes." He reached into the Planet Hollywood jacket and took out the fifteen thousand and placed it on the table next to the iPad. The man stared back at him for a moment and then tapped the screen again.

"If you wish to leave now you may do. We will never see each other or speak again and you will be safe to carry on with your life as if this meeting had never taken place. You have ten seconds to get up and leave the table."

Crace shook his head at the guy to let him know he was in, committed to this. It felt like he'd just done a deal on the stock exchange, that feeling he got when he knew he'd made the right decision and struck a home run.

"Keep counting buddy, I ain't going anywhere."

Eight... nine...ten.

The man smiled and nodded, picked up the money and placed it into his pocket, this reminded Crace to mention the jacket before the guy left, deciding 30k granted him at least one question.

He watched as the man put the iPad to sleep and pick it up with his right hand and then noticed the man's left hand as it pulled a silenced Glock 9mm pistol out from under the leather. Crace watched the matt black silencer slide out from inside the jacket like a mamba from under a rock and realised the coat had been too big so as to hide the gun.

The pistol clicked once, although Crace never heard it, due to him already pretty much being dead. His head made more noise than the gun as it landed face first onto the hands he had been instructed to place in front of him. Had he been able to take a look he would have seen that Mickey had been gut shot and was leaking brains all over the table.

The man stood up, and walked out of the diner with the pistol back under his jacket. He smiled at the waitress, who was straining to see where that awkward bastard with the dumb cap had gone over the high back of the booth,

"You come again soon now."

The man nodded, left the diner and walked two blocks before he heard the sirens. He climbed into the rental car and smiled at Karen.

"Did he want me dead? Did he?"

"Yes."

"That son of a bitch... did you... did you do it?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god, I can't believe it."

Karen sat for a moment with her hand over her mouth, the shock hitting home almost as hard as the bullet that had been meant for her. They sat in silence watching the blue and red flashing lights down the street bouncing off the rain and buildings. The windows were starting to steam and so where Karen's eyes. She suddenly remembered their deal and reached for her handbag.

"I'm sorry I almost forgot.