The Oshkosh Connection

Начало книги

Hugo the assassin arrived at Baltimore-Washington International Airport on the 4:35 p.m. flight from London. He grabbed his Samsonite carry-on bag from the overhead compartment and walked confidently through the airport.

The stop at immigration was quick. He had nothing to declare. On a personal visit. Staying about a week. Thank you. You have a nice day as well.

Hugo left out the part about being paid to kill people while he was here.

The muggy July air hit him like a wall as he stepped outside to fetch a cab. The drive to Dupont Circle took just over thirty minutes. Hugo had rented a flat online the night before. Just a five-minute walk from James Hoban’s Irish Restaurant, where he ate a BBQ burger with bacon and grilled onions at an outdoor table, sweating while watching the streets and waiting for his assignment. He licked BBQ sauce off his fingers. He had to admit, Americans knew how to cook good burgers.

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