Song in the background played for the umpteen hundredth time through his cockpit's interior speakers. Did Racket notice? ........what? A female name on the holopad in front of his steering enticed him. A friend of a friend had known a guy and they expected thirty credits for the information he was now staring at. Guys cronmail account wasn't as hack proof as guy thought. Lots of info attached. Needless to say Racket's bank account was topped off with a few mill credits and he had found that holes were burning his pockets.
A small bird told me that you have a skill of selling naughty things to upstanding citizens.
Explosive with 510,000 terajoules minimum
Cost of discretion included in payment
Index finger touched the screen. Message bar crossed the screen twice; Sent and Done. An unlit cig between his left hands middle and index finger found the touch of his lips and lick of a flame. Smoke rolled in while stress rolled out. Life was hard and someone deserved to be relieved from that burden.