"-and the New York Police Department is reeling after facing a heavy loss of eight officers yesterday. To add to this death toll, police have stated that the two FBI agents who had been working on this operation were also killed in the line of duty. While initially many residents living in the vicinity had reported a terrorist attack, police forces later clarified that it was in fact a gangland turf war. Allegedly, the objective of the two Federal agents and the NYPD that day were to apprehend a major drug dealer and to destroy his clandestine network. He was, however, followed to his location of bargain by opposing criminal groups. The police and the undercover agents found themselves in the middle of not one but two shootouts and a high-speed pursuit that cost the lives of many and caused large material damage to some areas of Manhattan. While information regarding this case has not wholly been revealed by police authorities, they have also said that some criminals succeeded in escaping the grasp of law enforcement officers. The Chief Commissioner gave out a speech yesterday evening, reassuring the general public with the promise of an all-out manhunt for the remaining perpetrators and of, I quote, 'swift, decisive justice brought to the people responsible'. He has strongly advised everyone to stay alert and to report anything that is suspicious. The commemoration of the killed officers will take place on Friday at ten 'o' clock, at the Officer's Memorial in Judiciary Square. We will now play a rerun of the conference in question-"

Red Tie switched off the TV and threw the remote on the couch. They had been repeating the same information for the last half hour, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Red Tie was sure that with a story as juicy as this, the media weren't playing these cards close to their chest, which meant that they didn't know even half of the story. While their rundown of the situation was pretty accurate, they had no idea how many 'criminals' - he still smirked at the term - had escaped, and where they were presumed to be. They had also left out any information regarding the contents that were being sold. This meant that for now, the city was still recovering after taking a very sore hit, and that gave Red Tie the upper hand. He had already stayed in the godforsaken city for a day too long. But everything had been sorted out with his boss: he was to take his 'prize' and return to headquarters in Miami today. He was being temporarily reposted.

He glanced across the hotel room, his eyes landing on the Walmart shopping bag resting on the kitchen counter, cleverly disguising the drugs and money. He had bought some random stuff to go on top, like large tissues and notebooks, to cover up the illegal goodies as well as he could: he wasn't taking any more risks. Enough was enough.

Red Tie was not in any sense a religious man. But after the events of yesterday, and when his adrenaline had finally calmed down, he had indulged in some strong whiskey, saluted his fallen comrade and had said a long, heart-felt prayer to whatever divinity had kept death at bay.

But Red Tie didn't like to linger long on stories of the past, no matter how shocking or damaging they could be. He believed that the faster you moved forward, the better. And right now, after a good night's sleep and a whole, English breakfast, Red Tie was feeling fresh. He had just taken a shower and was dressed in a new, clean tuxedo from an upper-class clothes store he had acquired the night before, completed with his iconic red tie. He sipped the last of his latte cappuccino and placed the coffee cup down on the living room table.

He grabbed his comb, smoothing his hair, preening and smiling at himself in front of the mirror. Sharp and on point as usual.

Red Tie had just placed the comb back in his pocket when the doorbell rang.

He instantly stopped moving. His reflexes kicked in, and he picked up his Walther pistol on the counter, next to the Walmart bag. Hiding the gun behind his back, he walked towards the door and looked through the peephole.

It was Lucy.

He gave a sigh of relief and put the gun back. Running his hands through his hair one last time, he flashed his best smile and opened the door. Lucy, upon seeing him, didn't even waste time hugging or greeting him. She pressed his lips to hers, and Red Tie didn't pull back. Both engaged in a steamy kiss, Lucy closing the door with her foot, and pushing him further into the room. About a minute later, they slowly pulled away, catching their breath. Red Tie pulled her face close to him, studying her every feature, taking it all in: her flowing blonde hair, her deep, sapphire-blue eyes, her red, luscious lips. Red Tie noticed that Lucy was dressed in a very sexy red mini-skirt and a dark pink blouse. He smiled, slowly stroking her hair, glad that she was here, here with him.

Lucy spoke, a look of concern on her face.

"Oh, honey," she said, caressing his face. "I was so worried! You didn't pick up my calls-"

"I know, I know" he replied. "I was in a bit of a sticky situation. But everything's ok now, honey, everything is ok."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes locking onto his.

"Promise."

They shared another kiss.

"I've missed you," whispered Red Tie. "You have no idea."

"I've missed you too," purred Lucy. Confidently but gently she continued to guide him towards the bed, playing with his shirt buttons.

"Got something planned?" he asked slyly, his hand moving towards her bra.

She smiled.

"Of course, darling."

Red Tie heard the three silenced spits before he felt the pain. He could only stare at Lucy in shock, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape.

He looked down at his blood-stained shirt in disbelief. He took a few steps backwards, only to crumble to floor on his fourth step.

Lucy walked over to him.

"Sorry, darling," she said. "I'm running a little late."

She looked around the room, but it didn't take her that long to find what she was looking for: she knew what she wanted was in the Walmart bag.

She picked it up and slung it behind her shoulder, dialling an unsaved number on her phone. After three rings it picked up.

"You ring with good news, I presume?"

"Got the package, Mr Walker."

"And your boyfriend?"

"Taken care of."

"Good girl."

There was a brief silence. And then Mr Walker spoke again.

"Take the next flight to the Bahamas. You know where to meet me?"

"Yes. How's the weather there?"

"Perfect. Even better now since all is working out."

"And I will get my share as discussed?"

"Of course. But still, if I may add... you must be a cold woman, murdering your lover over a small share of petty cocaine and blood-money."

"I was nice enough to arouse him before his death. And if you were in my situation, you would have done the same. I need this money."

"I'm sure you do."

He added: "It doesn't matter, darling. I still commend your bravery. Not many women have the guts to do what is necessary. I like that in a girl."

"And I must reciprocate and commend yours, Mr Walker, for mixing up Mr Carter's trading schedule. What terrible consequences would have awaited you should it have failed? In fact, out of curiosity, if he had indeed survived this and found about your little coup, what would have waited for you in the Bahamas? A new cartel?"

"That, you will know nothing about, my dear. All you need to know is that I'm the boss now. Just hurry on over, will you? It's time to celebrate. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, sir."

The line clicked off.

Pocketing the phone, Lucy took one last view of the room, her eyes not even stopping on Red Tie's dead body. She felt no remorse, no guilt, for what she had done. Only satisfaction.

She closed the door, placing the 'Do not disturb' sign on the handle.

With that, she was off, whistling down the corridor.

She was already making plans: with her share, she could easily afford a new house, not the cramped apartment that Red Tie had 'so kindly' offered her. The selfish bastard never liked to gift things, he only spent money on himself. She had begged Red Tie for money, a fair share, a right to spend, but he had avoided the demands, refusing to broach the subject. "It's not the right time, honey", he had said. Or "I know your parents are in financial distress. When this job is done, we'll discuss it, alright?". But in the meantime, he had spent like a king, splashing money here and there for clothes, cars, good food, good wine, anything to enrichen his already expensive lifestyle. But not a penny for her. Oh no. After a while, Lucy had had enough of that. And now, she had a way out.

She fished a real estate pamphlet out of her bag, her eyes scanning the informational section on a house she particularly liked. The house brought a smile to her face.

She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, reading the details aloud.

"Nine hundred sixty-five square feet... includes a kitchen, a bathroom, a spacious living room and two bedrooms...garden area in the back-"

The elevator doors pinged shut and started to descend, taking Lucy, the Walmart bag and her dreams down with it.