Chapter OneSunday, September 3, 2000
I didn't know who we were going to kill -- just that he or she would be among the crowd munching canapés and sipping champagne on the terrace of the Houses of Parliament at three P.M., and that the Yes Man would identify the target by placing his hand on their left shoulder when he greeted them.
I'd done some weird stuff over the years, but this job was scaring me. In less than ninety minutes, I was going to be shitting on my own doorstep big-time. I only hoped the Firm knew what it was doing, because I wasn't too sure that I did.
As I looked down yet again at the clear...