Dawn checked the number again. She refolded the paper and looked over at the grotesque little gargoyle sitting opposite her. He was still staring at her breasts. "Who's the target?" she asked, setting fire to the paper.

"So, you're in." he said, apparently hoping the answer would emanate from her bosom.

"You know the rules. There are certain....restrictions. I need the name first."

"Well, they don't tell me information like that. I'm the middle man," he sneered. "They just gave me an encoded viewer which will only respond to you." There was silence for a few seconds.

"Well?"

"Aren't you going to frisk me for it?"

"Give me the viewer, or I'll take it off your corpse and tell your employers that you were trying to prevent me from doing this job for them." His hand, now holding the viewer, appeared in front of her face so fast that she would have, if asked, sworn that it hadn't traveled through any intervening space. Dawn took the small display, turned it on, and looked at the target's details. She allowed herself a brief smile.

"So, you like the assignment, then?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. And, I'm sorry I was so harsh with you earlier, Malcolm."

"Oh," Malcolm grinned, "that's quite all right, my dear." His face turned to puzzlement. "Wait a minute, how did you know my name? We never..." His voice trailed off as Dawn turned the viewer around, and Malcolm eyes darted between it and the gun which was pointed at him.

"Looks like your boss found out that you've been perving at their daughter. I do love it when business and pleasure coincide."