“Rusty, blink the lights. Hurry, get out, meet him, and grab our money.”
Rusty signaled. They left the truck, walked two feet, and stopped.
“Did you replace the microchip?” The well-dressed man asked.
“Yes, sir. Here’s a snapshot.” Rusty’s hand shook as he tapped the cell phone screen twice before the hologram image surfaced.
The man smirked at the image. “Fools, I don’t need a photo! Are you sure you put the microchip in the correct tattoo? If you fail, you’ll die by morning. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Melekh.”
“Good. Now leave. Your money is by the warehouse door. Get it.”
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