Tag Archives: Canada

Chapter 8, section 10: Let’s make a deal

By aaronbihari | Published: October 12, 2010
They sat staring at each other until he turned his attention to the wall of monitors, and the image of his apartment on de Gaspé. It was a small and very simple place, perhaps the simplest he had inhabited in centuries. He would miss it.
Posted in Chapter 8 | Also tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments closed

Chapter 8, section 3: dinner, dancing and les petits morts

By aaronbihari | Published: July 22, 2010
Her smell still filled his nose. Her smell, and the tang of orange juice.
Posted in Chapter 8 | Also tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments closed

Chapter 8, section 2: The night before

By aaronbihari | Published: July 20, 2010
The previous day was relaxed enough. He checked in on Gaetan, then continued his tour of pawnshops and picked up a few more gurkha knives, along with a handful of tips on various rivals’ activities. He inquired with a trusted associate about iris-scan security systems, and ordered one for each of his domiciles. He also checked in on a few business interests.
Posted in Chapter 8 | Also tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments closed

Chapter 8: Hermes is well and truly screwed

By aaronbihari | Published: June 30, 2010
Hermes stared at the ceiling and wondered how he had arrived at that exact, irritating point. It wasn’t the being tied down spread-eagled, with arms and legs roped to the posts of a bed that irritated him. Or the waking up naked in a different place than where he had gone to sleep.
Posted in Chapter 8 | Also tagged , , , , , | Comments closed

Chapter 5, section 4: Urban Zen

By aaronbihari | Published: May 7, 2010
He picked up the plastic bag from Zahra’s and climbed the stairs. When he unlocked the front door his electric security panel beeped at him until he fingered the key code.
Posted in Chapter 5 | Also tagged , , , , , | Comments closed

Chapter 5, section 3: spying on the neighbors

By aaronbihari | Published: May 5, 2010
He slipped up the buzzing heat of a sunbeam to the back porch with lidded metal trash bin and piles of newspaper: both English and French, but no other languages. Slipping under the cracked-open window was a formality. He could have just as easily gone straight through the glass, but he preferred the illusion that he wasn’t uninvited.
Posted in Chapter 5 | Also tagged , , , , | Comments closed