Sam knocked on the front door of the flat and a very tired looking Charlie answered it. It was nearly six AM the next day, and Charlie took one look at Sam, already sleep-deprived and now jetlagged, and said,

"I'll get the coffee on. Looks like we both need some."

"That would be wonderful," Sam said, stifling a yawn. He hadn't slept at all in at least twenty-four hours, the plane ride over had been devoted to planning and he would've been unable to sleep even if he'd tried. Now he was fighting a pounding headache and he swayed slightly where he stood.

Charlie opened the door a bit wider and stepped back to allow him in. Sam dropped his bag just inside the door and beelined for the kitchen table, where he slumped down into a chair.

"You'd better rest up a bit before we have to pull this thing off," Charlie said, his eyes staying locked on Sam as he walked over to his coffee maker.

"I don't think I'm gonna be able to sleep until it's done," Sam mumbled. He'd set his face in his hands and closed his eyes.

"Fair 'nough," Charlie said, "But you'd better not miss your mark all 'cause you're too tired to see o' somethin'."

"I'll be fine," Sam snapped, dropping his hands and sitting up straighter.

"You sure?" Charlie asked. "It's not too late to back out."

"I said I'm fine," Sam replied even louder. He huffed in annoyance.

"I jus' want you to be real sure this is what you want. You think this'll satisfy you?"

"It's worth a shot," Sam said dryly. Charlie glanced back at him, an eyebrow raised, but he shrugged and let the subject go.

The floorboards creaked behind Sam and he spun around in his chair. His eyes hardened and his shoulders tensed. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and for a second he was like a vicious dog ready to strike.

"You." He slid out of his chair and stood, slow and calculated. Elijah shrank back away from Sam's menacing frame.

"Hey, Sam." Sam had been frozen where he stood for a moment, but now, at the sound of Eli's voice, he strode forward. The kid's voice from that day, just a whisper in his ear, still rang loud and clear in his memory and hearing it again triggered something in him. He grabbed fistfuls of the front of Eli's shirt and shoved him several steps back into the wall behind him.

"If Charlie weren't here, I'd strangle you where you stand," Sam said, his teeth gritted and his voice barely above a whisper.

"Lucky me," was Eli's only response.

"You slimy little weasel. I'm not joking here. You took my little brother from me. I swear to God, as soon as this is over, you're dead." Sam stood inches from Eli, pressing him into the wall and almost lifting him off his feet.

"I know."

"Don't you have some smart-ass comment to make? When did you lose your nerve?" Sam sounded frustrated. He expected the kid to put up more of a fight.

"You said you weren't joking. Figured I shouldn't say anything stupid while my life was in your hands." Eli's eyes briefly jumped down to Sam's grasp on his shirt, before meeting his gaze again.

"You're smarter than I thought you were. But apparently still stupid enough to work for Marlowe. How is that even possible?"

"You're a hypocrite, Sam." Anger flared in his voice. "I was doing the same thing with him as I am with you right now. Keeping my head down and trying not to die."

"This is different. I'm not asking you to take lives."

"I didn't have a choice. I was just trying to survive."

"See how far that got you," Sam shot back. "You said it yourself, if he doesn't kill you then I will. And I will."

"I expect no less." Eli sounded calm and Sam stared at him hard, trying to get a read on what he was thinking. Charlie took the moment of silence as a chance to intervene.

"Sam, back off. We need 'im," he said, coming over and tentatively laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. Instead of lashing out, Sam forced himself to relax slightly and his grip on Eli loosened.

"Glad we're on the same page," he said, then dropped Eli completely and turned his back on him. Sam sat back down in his seat and leaned his elbows on the table. "Want to explain to me how we're gonna kill this sonofabitch?"

**********

"Sam, can you 'ear me?" Charlie's voice was almost too loud in his ear and Sam winced.

"Yeah," he replied. "Too well."

"Very funny," Charlie replied. "Eli?"

Sam couldn't hear Eli's reply, but he assumed that the connection was good when Charlie spoke again.

"So far, so good," Charlie said. "Sam, be careful, stay in contact, and let me know when the outside's clear and you're headin' in."

"Got it," Sam said. He currently crouched under a window in an abandoned building across the street, eyeing the side of the brick building where Marlowe and Elijah were supposed to meet. Sam adjusted the sniper rifle on his back and took a deep breath. He was shaking ever so slightly.

Despite their meticulous planning, they truly had no idea what they were walking into. There was no way to know how many men Marlowe would bring with him or the extent to which he truly trusted Elijah. It was up to Sam to pick off everyone he could before they sent Elijah into the building because they knew that once he went in, they were on the clock for an undetermined, and possibly very short, amount of time.

Sam was armed to the teeth with a sniper rifle and silencer pistol. On top of that, they both had earpieces that connected them back to Charlie, and Elijah wore a tiny body camera that Charlie could watch through on his laptop where he waited in his car. Where Charlie had procured those kinds of weapons and tech, Sam hesitated to ask and frankly didn't care. Charlie always 'knew a guy'. He could pull off the impossible, and certainly had this time around.

Sam snapped to attention when he saw movement around the front of the building, off to his right. Two SUV's had pulled up and Sam counted seven people. Six armed guards and Marlowe, distinct from the others in his well-tailored suit. After a bit of talk, of which Sam could hear nothing, Marlowe and two guards went inside while the other guards split up into two pairs and began to circle the building in opposite directions. Quickly a game plan formed in Sam's head.

The two guards who had circled in front of him passed the halfway mark down the long side of the building and Sam darted out of his hiding spot through an open doorway and moved around behind them, hoping they didn't catch him out of the corner of their eyes. Maybe he moved quieter than he thought, or maybe their helmets made it hard to hear; either way, he was baffled when he got in behind them without either of them noticing. Sam sprang into action.

With his silencer pistol in his right hand and ready to shoot, he grabbed one of them around the neck from behind with his left. The other guard spun around to confront him, but Sam was expecting it. In one swift move, he had his silencer up and fired two shots into the face of the other guard, and then jerked the head and neck of the man he had in his arms. He heard the crack and let go, and they crumpled to the ground next to the other one.

Sam needed to move before the other pair of guards found these bodies. He ran forward along the building, hoping that the other pair didn't come around the corner in front of him. There was nowhere for him to take cover. He made it to the corner safely and pressed himself against the wall, listening for footsteps. He couldn't hear any, so he poked his head around the corner.

As fast as he looked, he pulled himself back. The other pair of guards had just rounded the corner, but he didn't think they'd seen him. Sam's mind raced. He decided he didn't have another option, but it was risky. Maybe too risky. If they even had a chance to fire their guns, he was screwed.

He waited, absolutely quiet and still, until he could hear their boots on the ground and could wager a guess at how far away they were. His fingers tightened around his pistol, he took a breath, and then threw himself out into the open, aimed, and fired two shots, each one into the face of the oncoming guards.

Sam couldn't believe his luck. He stayed perfectly still, gun raised, for a good thirty seconds after the guards dropped dead. Finally, he relaxed and heaved a huge breath. This felt too easy. Had they really lucked out? Had their preparation and Elijah's deception actually worked? If he'd counted correctly, Marlowe and two guards were inside the warehouse. Theoretically, his job was easy from here on out.

If their blueprints were correct, the building, once an old factory, had offices along the whole end he was at, and a balcony that ran around the second floor, giving a bird's eye view of the whole production floor. Sam really wanted to get to the second floor. If this went sideways, he at least wanted that advantage on Marlowe and his men. There were stairs inside, but according to the blueprints, they were open to the production floor and anyone inside would notice him. He began to walk to his left and rounded the corner of the building. Ah ha. Just like the blueprints said. A fire escape wound up the brick wall.

"Sam? Status?" Charlie's voice was in his ear again.

"Four guards outside. All dead. Heading in," Sam relayed quietly.

"Should I send 'im in?"

"Yeah, but he might need to stall a bit."

Charlie didn't reply and Sam headed for the fire escape. He had to climb over the railing and then grabbed the handrails on either side of him and jumped slightly on the stairs to see how well they had stood the test of time. It rattled but didn't threaten to pull off the brick. Sam started to climb.

He found the door at the top locked, but being at least a hundred years old in London, the wood had rotted out. Sam busted through the partially disintegrated door without making a huge racket and he started to make his way through. He entered a hallway with rooms on either side, and he guessed that the other end of the hall would lead to the interior stairs.

"He's in." Charlie said.

"Great. Can you see what's going on?" Sam whispered. "Does there happen to be an office with a broken interior window on the second floor."

"How well d' you actually think I can see, mate?," Charlie replied. Sam rolled his eyes. "Try the third from the right."

"Your right or mine?" Sam asked flippantly.

"Figure it out," Charlie groaned. Sam almost smiled. He opened the first door to his left. The room had one big window, unbroken, so he decided to try the third door down. There he lucked out. Charlie had been right.

Sam crept into the room, crouching as he moved to avoid the lower floor's view through the window. At the windowsill, he leaned against the wall under the window and pulled the rifle off his back. He checked it over once, made sure it was loaded, and clicked the safety off. Then he slowly raised up and leveled the rifle on the sill. There they were, just like they had planned. Marlowe, with a guard on either side of him, spoke to Elijah.

Now's your chance. Sam's instinct was to aim and shoot. Marlowe was the big-ticket item. They could deal with the guards once he was out of the way. However, this was all a little too easy for Sam's liking, and he preferred to play with his prey before going in for the kill. What was the fun in murdering Marlowe before he even knew what hit him? Instead, Sam peered through the scope and aimed at one of the guards.

He pulled the trigger and the shot rang out. The man fell, and the others jumped and looked around wildly. Sam desperately tried to take aim at the second guard before he was seen.

"You betrayed me!" Sam could hear Marlowe's scream with little difficulty. Doing his best to ignore the raging Brit, Sam aimed and fired at the second guard, and his bullet miraculously hit its mark. A split second later, two more shots rang out and Sam realized that Marlowe had a pistol in his hand. He hadn't been completely unarmed. However, his shots had not been aimed at Sam.

This was Sam's chance. Marlowe realized that he was a goner. His guards were dead on the floor around him. He spun around wildly, looking for any surviving men to help him, and trying to determine the location of the shooter. Sam waited patiently, his rifle trained directly at Marlowe, awaiting for the right moment.

As Marlowe looked around, his gaze fell on Sam and he stopped. Sam wished that they were up close and personal so that he could whisper his only thought into Marlowe's ear, but this would have to suffice.

"This is for my brother," Sam muttered. Marlowe began to raise his pistol, but Sam had already pulled the trigger. Marlowe's body hit the floor.

Sam raised his rifle and leapt to his feet. He flipped the safety on and threw the shoulder strap around himself. His mind racing, he booked it for the door and turned down the hall towards where he expected to find the interior stairs.

"I got him, Charlie. It worked. I got him," he said, his voice breathless as he barreled through a door and ran down the stairs.

"Bloody 'ell, you did it. And you'd better get outta there, someone's bound to 'ave 'eard the shots. But Sam, Eli's down and I think the camera got hit. I lost visual." And suddenly Sam realized that those were the extra shots he'd heard. He hadn't noticed the kid fall, with his attention focused solely on Marlowe.

He sprinted across the factory floor towards the four bodies and slowed to a stop when he neared them. He went to Marlowe first and bent down to shake the Brit's shoulder and check for a pulse, but he realized that he didn't need to. His aim had been impeccable.

"Sam..." A hoarse voice reached his ears. Sam stood up and turned around. Eli laid on his back on the ground, drenched in blood, his hands grasping at several wounds in his chest from Marlowe's frantic, haphazardly-aimed shots. Sam's jaw clenched.

"Kill me." Eli was using every ounce of strength he had to speak. He didn't have much time left. "Just do it. I deserve it." He began to cough, choking on more blood, but through the spluttering he said louder, "This was never just about Marlowe. I know you want to. Please, Sam."

Sam pulled his pistol out of its holster and turned it over once in his hands, staring down at it.. Then without another seconds hesitation, he grasped it in his hand, aimed, and fired.

**********