Sheet of Flame

“I’m not so sure about this, man.”
“Your first bust?”
“Yeah.”
“Listen, Mack, it’s really not that hard. You walk up to the guy, act casual, and just ask.”
“Yeah, but what if he knows?”
“What if he knows what?”
“What if he catches on?”
“You think we would have gotten this far if they’d even had an inkling?”
“I guess not… Still. Meeting out here is kind of creepy.”
“Them’s the breaks, kiddo. Just the kind of people we’re dealing with.”
Mack shifted in his seat uncomfortably but the driver kept looking forward. Something moved, very barely, and Mack leaned over to the window to peer out into the murk.
“Did you see that?”
“The movement?” the driver replied.
“Yeah, out there just beyond the first tuft of grass. There it is again.”
“Just the wind, Mack. You’re awfully jumpy tonight.”
The driver shrugged and turned on the stereo, a band from the 80’s slowly drifted through the car. Reflected through the rear-view mirror, Mack was frowning.
“Not like this? This stuff is classic.”
“Classic my ass, I wish I’d missed the 80’s. Ten to one says our guy steps out of his car looking like a villain on Miami Vice. Plus, I was trying to listen to whatever’s out there.”
Driver sighed and turned the music down to the point where it was almost nonexistent, “Happy now?”
“Much better, thanks.”
Mack steadily beat his fingertips along the edge of the briefcase, much like a typewriter, causing it to ring out with a hollow monotone sound
“What if he doesn’t come?”
“Then we go home and chalk it up to a loss. Always another one of these guys out there.”
“Yeah, but this is the guy. Our guy.”
The man in the driver’s seat shrugged nonchalantly, “There are other guys in the world. Quite a few, in fact.”
“Sarcasm. Great. Really funny.”
Driver chuckled, “Well, you’re being rather particular in who you want to bring in.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
Mack patted the holster under his arm, making sure it was still there, and then returned to typing his fingers over the edge of the briefcase. He looked up to see Driver looking back at him through the rear-view mirror with an eyebrow raised before he twisted said mirror to reflect the corner of a metal object sticking out from Mack’s jacket.
“Need to do something about that, kiddo.”
A pair of headlights slowly made their way around the bend in front of them. Driver leaned forward and coughed.
“They’re here.”
Mack slid the thin metal badge further inside of his jacket.
“Are we sure it’s them?”
“What’s with all the questions, Mack?”
“Just curious. Bit scared, perhaps.”
“Fair enough. Yeah, it’s them. See how they parked right in front of us? Blinds us so that we can’t get a good fix on ‘em.”
“Right, right. Makes sense.”
“Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“We can scrap this right now if it doesn’t feel right.”
“I know.”
“Well?”
“Well, we’re going through with it.”
Mack put on his gloves and stepped out of the car, carefully lugging the briefcase behind him in an almost motherly manner, and shut the door.
A woman got out of the car in front of him and they both slowly paced to the meeting ground between the sets of headlights.
She winked at Mack, “You know what you’re doing, right? There’s no going back after this.”
“Fuck you. I know what I’m doing.”
She laughed and pulled a briefcase of her own around in front of him.
“Fuck me? Is that a proposition?”
“You know what it was. This needs to look accidental.”
“But of course, Benedict.”
“The name’s Mack.”
“I know, but Benedict is far more fitting.”
“Bitch.”
She grinned and popped her briefcase open and held it out slightly. It was full of small packages of white and off-white powders, and had a handgun resting on top, silencer in place.
“What’s it gonna be?”
Mack tightened his gloves and sighed, picking the gun up from its resting place and squeezing the grip.
“May God have mercy on us poor sinners, eh, Mack?”
“Someone certainly needs to.”