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Ryan scurried out of the conference room, dazed by the seriousness of the matter. He knew he had to get that briefcase to the professor by tomorrow, or he was going have it. The chief never messes around, he was told, and when he wanted something, it better be done pronto or you're gunna get it.
Ryan jumped into his Taurus and didn't waste a second leaving. He wanted to leave before he was assigned a billion other things to do. He sped off onto the highway, leaving civilization behind and cruising as fast as possible south.
Ryan really did not enjoy his job. The only reason he worked for these lunatics is because his brother-in-law offered it to him and Katherine and little Joey need milk and bread. There aren't many places to work around Moscow anyway. If you aren't part of the Russian cliques, you can't get a job. He applied to lots of jobs,cheap ed hardy clothing (http://www.myedhardyca.com), but he couldn't get them cause other Russians with social connections got them. He doesn't understand why he lives here of all places, in the cold, lifeless Russia, where he could go back to Ohio, where he can have a normal job as a journalist and not have to deal with the snow day in and day out.
Ryan flipped on the radio. It was this weird alternate rock station, with people yelling in Russian very loudly and drums and symbals crashing in the background. He didn't care, he had other things to worry about. He was just about to flip the station when a car pulled in front of him and slowed down. He slowed too, allowing an armed man to come to the window of his car.
Ryan was about to get out and talk face to face with this stranger, when two men wielding large AK-47's stepped out of the sedan. They looked angry. The first man called out to them something in Russian, and they pulled up their guns and pointed to the car. Ryan had a split second to process it before it was too late. They shot the tires of his car. Then they ran up and stood on either side of the car,ed hardy jeans (http://www.edhardy-onlineshop.com), with guns pointing.
The first man took out a handgun and pointed it at Ryan's forehead. Ryan started stammering, but the deep voice of the man interrupted.
"Get out of the car." he stated flatly. Ryan didn't protest. He slowly opened the door and shook outside. "Now get on the fucking ground." yelled the man.
Before Ryan could do anything, he found himself tied up on the deserted freeway, on his stomach. He could hear the sound of a door opening, and men yelling. He could tell they were searching his car.
"Whats this?" said a voice.
"Let me see!" said another. Ryan sensed the first man leaving him and walking towords the car. They found the briefcase.
Ryan heard the man walk over. "So you work for the association..." the first man's voice trailed off. "...I hate to do this...". A shot rang out. The concrete was the last thing Ryan saw.Topics related articles:


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