Harald was a simple kind of guy. He got up in the morning, ate his Orn Lakes with a bit of milk, went to the bathroom and showered—just like anyone else.

He even lived in a perfectly ordinary sort of place. A little apartment on the top floor of a tenement building. It was a nice place. The water was warm enough ever since they replaced the heater, and it was nice and insulated from the snow in winter. He even had a little parking spot for his Ivic out back.

If anyone asked, he worked the night shift at a grocery store, and sometimes the morning shift too. Nice, respectable but boring work. He was even on the payroll if anyone looked.

That was all a lie, of course.

An elaborate ruse set up by his boss.

He wasn’t spending the night shoving cans into neat rows just for some Karen to come in an hour after opening and mess everything up. Not that he hadn’t done that kind of work in a past life.

Nah. Harald was a boss. He was a cool cat. A playa. Not the top dog, but real close.

He had mad girls after him all the time, and his nights were spent at the Garter Belt, a little joint tucked away in the most interesting part of town where the music could be played real loud without bothering anyone.

It wasn’t all fun and games, though. Sure, he had his Try Hards to impress. A bit of cash changing hands, some substances of questionable legality being tossed around and snorted off the backs of cute college girls who’d gotten tired of daddy telling them how to live, maybe a bit of planning on where to place the coolest tags.

It was all in good fun until the boss called in.

The last time was two days back. The boss had wanted him to hit up some guy out in a hidden bar somewhere. He’d rolled in with a few boys, knocked him around, and, as the boss asked, taken a machine off the guy.

It was sitting in front of him now.

The Garter Belt had a nice little basement. All bare cement walls and piping, but clean. It was where he had his office. Just a desk and a chair and a PC that hummed in the corner. Sometimes a guy needed a nice quiet spot away from all the music and noise.

He, of all people, could understand finding a place to call his own.

Harald didn’t sit. He didn’t like sitting down. Instead, he walked around the room. There were shelves with bits of stationery and printers and a few knickknacks. As he moved, he picked each one up in turn and set it back down. A stack of papers here, a book there, a stapler next to that.