It was about 2:30am when I heard a knock at the door of my apartment. I walked over to the door sleepily and opened it to see Sofia standing there, arms crossed in mock disapproval.
"You've been a naughty boy, Josh," she said, grinning widely. "Can I come in, or would your company be bothered?"
"She left a while ago," I said. "Something about boosting her pay."
"What do you think that was about?"
"I don't know. I managed to get some information out of her before she left," I said, after a short pause.
"We can find the Corsican mafia boss that was in charge of the local club at a small shack down by the docks in Rabat."
When we arrived at the shack - both carrying heavy weapons under our scruffy clothes - I entered the building from the back with my derringer (chambered in .45 ACP but able to take .410 bore shotshells, with which it was now loaded) drawn and at the ready. Heading up the stairs, I noticed something odd - the whole place was totally silent. Even if the boss was sleeping, there would be some noise.
Suddenly, I heard a gunshot - one isolated sound, completely separate from anything else. I ran up the stairs and found someone who I presumed was the mafia boss we'd come here for, lying on his bed, pistol in hand, a single bullet hole in the side of his head.
It looked for all the world like a suicide.
"Shit," I said, "Sofia, you'd better get up here. You need to see this."