The man pretending to be you sits in front of a flat-screen computer monitor, in a small room in an office building you’d barely notice. A wireless telephone headset curves about his unshaven face.
Another man stands by, arrayed in guns and a curved knife. He wears a headset, too.
Their target’s face laughs on the computer screen. Her name is Aria Puffin. Grandmother. Widow. Sloppy with privacy on social media. Silver hair, pulled back in a long ponytail more often than not.
The computer dials. Continue reading “Stuck in Quito by Matthew S. Rosin”