“Hmm,” said the man in a low, mellifluous tone, “so this is the local pub.”     The waiter looked up and noted the man’s features: tall and slim, with deep, piercing eyes and swept back hair. “May I help you?” asked the waiter from behind the oaken bar.

    “I’d fancy a spot of Earl Grey, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” replied the man in the suit as he took a seat next to the bar.

    The waiter returned with the tea, and the man in the suit sipped it quietly. Then, the stranger in the suit removed a small photograph from his jacket’s inner pocket. “Tell me, have you seen this man?” he asked the cafe waiter.

    The waiter hesitated a bit. “Who’s asking?”

    The man in the suit took out a business card from his pocket and placed it on the table. Printed on the card was a dark red triangle, with the image of an eye in its center. The waiter’s eyes widened at the sight of the card.

    “There’s no use in hiding him. I already know he’s here,” said the stranger.

    The waiter nodded, and slowly walked towards a doorway behind the bar; the stranger in the suit followed him.

    The room beyond the door was a small, dimly-lit storage room with a single wooden table and a pair of chairs. In one of these chairs sat an aging, grey-haired man; not quite as young as the man in the photo, but they had the same physical features.

    The man in the suit slipped into the other chair with the fluid movements of a cat. “Well well, Mr. Leizar. We meet at last,” said the stranger.

    “And you are?” asked the old man. His voice was hoarse, partly from his old age.

    “Slade,” replied the man in the suit.

    The old man sighed. “I assume you are from the Order, Mr. Slade. So, they have finally found me.”

    “Yes. I am afraid that the Order is quite angry with you, Mr. Leizar, though I’m sure you are already aware of that. Hiding from us has only made matters worse for you.”

    “So they have sent you to take care of the situation, I gather?”

    “I am afraid so.”

    “I see,” replied Leizar weakly. “I suppose it would be pointless to say that I’ve done nothing wrong.”

    “Oh, but you have done something wrong. Opposing your former colleagues was one thing. Attempting to expose them to the public was a completely different matter.

    “Oh, and by the way,” Slade continued, “I wouldn’t suggest your waiter friend here try anything, or else he might end up dead.”

    The waiter, standing behind Slade, had his hand placed on a gun hidden in his vest. Leizar motioned the waiter to stop. “That’s quite alright, Jim. Please leave us, and close the door on your way out.”

    The waiter hesitated, but nodded and did as he was told.

    “So,” said Leizar, “will you kill me right now, or make it look like an accident?”

    A small smile crossed Slade’s face. “Now, let’s not be too hasty. That is, unless you have some sort of death wish. There may very well be a way for you to atone for your actions.”

    “And what would that be?”

    “The Order truly is angry at you. However, we realize that a man of your talents and experience may still be of some use to us. Had you not turned against us, you may very well have made it into the Inner Circle. Killing you now would be a waste of those talents. Thus, the Order has decided to show you mercy. Come back into the fold, and your life will be spared.”

    “Why would I want to return to the Order?” exclaimed Leizar. “You’re nothing more than a gang of murderous thieves! Once I discovered how truly corrupt the Inner Circle was, I swore I’d never go back.”

    “That’s not an option, Mr. Leizar. The Order requires your services, and you will carry out your duties. I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.”

    “And if I betray the Order again?”

    Slade withdrew another photograph from his suit pocket. This one depicted a woman with two young boys and a girl standing next to her.

    “Your wife and children, I presume,” said Slade. “Did you really believe you could hide them from us? They are now in our possession. It would be a shame should something happen to them...”

    Leizar’s teeth clenched, but he remained silent.

    “Or perhaps,” continued Slade, “you would like to end it now, Mr. Leizar.” Slade slid out a large revolver from his jacket, and placed it on the table. “If you will not join us, we cannot allow you to live, of course.”

    Leizar sat there for a long time, remaining silent. His eyes drifted between the photographs, the gun, and Slade. Slade sat back in his chair, silent and expressionless. Finally, Leizar sighed and cleared his throat.

    “Very well then,” Leizar said in a low, faint voice.

    Slade smiled. “Ah, I’m pleased to see you have finally made a decision. I was afraid I would have to cancel some of my afternoon appointments.”

    Slade picked up the gun from the table. “Well then,” said Slade, “shall we proceed?”

    Leizar nodded, closing his eyes...