Soon, a man dressed in a black suit respectfully handed over a delicate handgun, cushioned by a clean white handkerchief.
"Bang."
Two gunshots rang out.
Jimmy Ward casually tossed the handgun into the arms of a nearby man, wiped both hands with the handkerchief, threw it aside, and then strode towards the exit of the villa, getting back into the luxury limousine.
He had to go to another place.
It would be a busy night.
It was the perfect night to kill in the moonlit rain.
After Jimmy left,
Two men in black suits who had held umbrellas to shield the two corpses from the blood splatter on Jimmy started cleaning up the bodies and washing the bloodstains on the floor with swift and skillful movements.
At times, so-called business acts can be simple and pure.
Just like now.
...
"Father, you clearly knew that Mr. Carl Jacob would be fine, so why did you make the call?"
Jonas Grey asked curiously.
"You shouldn't be called Jonas, you should be called Foolish."