6
Basic
Somewhere else in Austria. The Alps. Basic training.
“If we’re going to do this properly, you need to be ready,” Philippe said to me on the drive over.
“So that was what the medical was for. To make sure I was up to it.”
“Can’t have you keeling over in the middle of a gunfight,” he said, steering the antique Polo up the narrow mountain roads.
The scenery was stunning, but death mere inches away. Deep valleys on one side, blind bends and big, swinging coaches on the other.
“So you’re in,” I said. “Why the change-a-roo?”
Philippe cranked the car into a lower gear as it struggled up the steep incline. “Can you see me playing golf?” he asked.
“Suppose not,” I said. “Not unless it involves beating a man to death with a nine iron.”
We pulled off the road and followed a rubble t
