Prologue

The steady patter of rain pounded against the roof of a one story log cabin. Dark branches swayed in the window, scratching against the side of the wooden structure. A dark man waited in the darkness of the one room cabin by the fireplace. Mesmerized by the flames licking the logs, the man waited for the phone call that would change his life. His hand clutched his phone, hoping the signal was strong here. Everything will work out, he thought. Everything was in place. His life would be set. After this, he will be free to do as he wants. No more hiding. No more lies. No more fighting. He sighed and glances at the phone once more, willing it to ring.
What was keeping him? He wondered. He stood and walked to the other side of the cabin. Taking a dirty glass he left by the sink, he poured more vodka. He shouldn't be doing this. He needed a clear head tonight.

"One drink to relax me," he muttered as he tipped the warm liquid in the glass.

Just as he raised the glass to his lips, the phone vibrated. Causing his hand to jerk, the vodka ran down his black button down shirt and down to his black jeans. Cursing, he slammed down the glass and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello," he said harsher than he meant to.

"Why Damien, you sound upset," a smooth male voice answered in reply. "I hope you're not having second thoughts."

"No."

"Are you sure? You know I would never want to force you into something you didn't want to do," the voice drawled.

"I'm sure." Damien kept it simple. He never gave more information than necessary, especially with this man.

"Good," the voice replied, not sounding very surprised or happy by Damien's response. "It would be a shame otherwise."

There was a pause.

"Straight to business is it?" the man on the other end asked mockingly.

"I'm afraid there is a storm here tonight, and I'm not sure how well my signal will hold out," Damien replied with clenched teeth. Couldn't he just tell him what he neededto know?

"Then I shouldn't keep you waiting."

Good, thought Damien.

"What you seek will make its landing approximately at 11:05 tomorrow morning. I would suggest you be at the docks by 10:30 to be in position. You know what will happen if you fail?"

"Yes," Damien grunted and sighed. He knew very well that everything he worked so hard on would fall apart if this did not go as planned. He felt his muscles tense up at the thought.

"Very well. I'll call back at noon." Click! The line went dead.

Damien stood there thinking the conversation over again in his head. 11:05 tomorrow morning. He snorted a laugh, and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. Grabbing his glass and vodka again, he poured himself a glass. Swirling the contents around, he looked down.

"This will end tomorrow," he promised the glass and drained it