Kill on Command Read Online Free Page B

laughed slightly. “A pretty wicked bar fight.  One of the Pittsburgh Penguins slashed me with a broken bottle.  You should see him.  Not pretty.”
     
    “Oh yeah?”
     
    “No. . . .Actually, I was volunteering at a youth lacrosse camp four years ago and a ten year old accidently slashed me,” Sean explained, starting to laugh at his own story and unconsciously scratching the scar.
     
    The old guy laughed again.  “Accidentally?”
     
    “You know, now that I think about it, that kid was gunning for me the whole week.  He really had it out for me.  Could have been something I said . . . ”
     
    The old guy smiled and finished packing his briefcase and glanced over at Sean.
     
    “I kind of like the lacrosse version of the story.”
     
    “Most do,” Sean answered.
     
    The pilot taxied to Pittsburgh International’s C terminal without delay.  An announcement reminded everyone to remain seated, with seat belts fastened, but no one ever does.  The jet bridge pushed up to the plane and the pilot released the passengers with the ubiquitous bell.  Sean stood up and slipped on his suit jacket.  It was clean.  It was new.  A subtle navy pin stripe number.  Made to measure.  A suit that fit.   He had come a long way from the days of hauling clothes around in a duffel bag and having to borrow a sport coat before a meeting.  His legs and shoulders were sore.  Probably the flight from France - it is a long way, even in first class.
     
    He turned around and looked into the back of the plane.  Even longer for them.  Everyone looked exhausted, sweaty and dirty, scrambling to grab their purses and laptops, consumed with collecting all of their belongings as fast as possible.  Everybody but one.  Her eyes were glued on the first class cabin, but Sean did not see her.
     
    Sean turned back around and made sure his new friend could get past him.
     
    “Well, please enjoy your stay here tonight,” Sean said.
     
    “Unfortunately, it’s business.”  The old guy moved past Sean and smiled.
     
    “Oh, make sure you get her number.  You certainly have put in the time,” he added.
     
    “The old dog was probably the same as me twenty-five years ago,” Sean thought to himself.
     
    Sean ran his hand through his dark brown hair and headed up the aisle for the door.  Jennifer was there smiling and nodded at him.  He knew she was checking him out.  He felt better than he ever had.  All the exercise had filled out his solid 215 pound; 6’2” frame and he estimated his body fat percentage had dropped to eight percent or less.  He had been eating like a king on the road with no effects on his physique.  “That’s what constant working out will do for you,” he told himself.
     
    “See you next time, Mr. Garrison.”
     
    “Looking forward to it, Jennifer,” he said, smiling and flashing his blue eyes.
     
    He exited the plane and made his way up the jet bridge.  He still had to go through customs, but it wasn’t too bad in Pittsburgh.
     
    Sean looked to his left as he entered the terminal and noticed that two men met the old man from the plane.  Both looked average.  Nothing special.  One took his brief case, the other handed him a folder.  The three headed towards the central terminal and the tram.  It looked like they were bypassing customs.  Sean thought nothing more of it.
     
    He stood in line.  He talked to the agent who quickly waved him through.  A tall redhead stood ten feet behind him.  She watched him walk towards the central terminal.
     
    It was 5 P.M. on Friday.  The terminal was full of people coming home from a long week of work and others heading out for the weekend.  He walked through the central terminal to the escalators, which took him to the tram that connects the gates with the main terminal.  He did not forget to touch the head of the life size Franco Harris Immaculate Reception statue located at the top of the escalators.  To forget would bring shame upon