In London

The fan hums faintly. It is the only sound in the small office room. The Big Gentleman picks up a remote and turns a muted television on. On the screen it shows six kids walking. The targets.

The Big Gentleman tapped the table. The partner slides him the folder. The children are neatly pictured with a text box under telling about them.

"Are all stations ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then to it."

Synchronized six missiles aimed for the children are fired. The Big Gentleman picks up a phone.

"The money is to be cashed now." The Big Gentleman hangs up.

"Get rid off the evidence."