Camshron, in the end, got the chance to speak, "I am from Central Intelligence Agency and I want to meet Mr. Morris right now." Then for domination on the receptionist, he slammed his palm on the table hard.

She got a bit afraid. She made a look at her computer monitor and said, "Sorry sir, but you dont have an appointment."

Camshron raised his voice and once more hit the desk, "I don’t have time for these shits!"

"Please take elevator at left side of the passage and on the seventh room of third storey, there it is." she explained.

He left the reception and with three of his people he went towards the only passage and took the elevator. Camshron thought- Why was she arguing? Is embassy avoiding me?

"TING!" a sound came and now they were on the third floor.

Camshron rushed towards seventhth room, avoiding people in black suits as well as people having files in their hands. Camshron managed his coat's collar and knocked on the door. He knocked twice but the door wasn’t locked. He peeped inside the room from it and saw Mr. Morris having a chat with French looking man who was a bit of fat, had a round face and a long nose. He was Erick de Lorgé- a member from Embassy of France.

He heard Mr. Morris saying, "It's unauthorized for the embassy… not for us."

Lorgé said in light heavy soft voice, "But at least you can try for it, sir. There may be a provision for it in here."

"Sorry, I am helpless for th-"

"HHHEEEMMM!" Camshron cleared his throat to interrupt Mr. Morris. He looked at Camshron who was peeping in and said, "Mr. Camshron! I am sorry for the delay, please come in."

Lorgé rose up with briefcase in his hand and said, "Tomorrow sir." then he got out and Camshron sat on his seat. He said in a soft note, "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning."

"May I know who he was?" asked Camshron and kept waiting few seconds for the answer.

"Mr. Erick de Lorgé, a member of EOF."

"What was he talking about to you then?" Camshron asked with curiosity.

"His some lost documents don’t comprise its CC and he wants this problem to be solved by me. Me!" Lorgé slapped his thigh, "Fully unauthorized work it is. I work in here, not in his embassy."

"Lack of clues has brought us here. We would like to know more about the murdered man."

"Well, he was an Afghani, a NRA indeed. He worked here for a long time. He was even sent to his country for many times. I still can't believe he is murdered and-"

Camshron interrupted, "It would be better if we could read what you are saying."

_

Phantom Being walked inside the bank, but nobody laid an eye on him.

He watched around to look if anyone was giving him some stares or not. Everyone just seemed to be busy with their cheques and documents.

Without a gun in his hand or mask over his head, he was not the talk of the town.

Phantom Being was sure everyone in the bank had heard about his name or heard about his actions, at least.

He sat beside a middle aged man.

Their shoulders were touching, but he didn’t even bother squinting at him.

Using his mobile phone, Phantom Being waited for fifteen minutes. Then the man beside him stood up for his turn on the counter.

Phantom Being followed him.

Someone queued behind him from there.

With each passing minute, Phantom Being was getting one step closer to the cash counter.

By mistake, he stretched his hand to his waist.

The person behind him noticed the weird behavior.

I am in a bank. And I don’t have a gun. Phantom Being laughed inside his head.

He slid the same hand inside his pocket and took out a signed cheque.

Phantom Being was about to get four thousand dollars in few minutes.

Since last seven days, he had been visiting multiple banks in a day in order to receive the full payment of his hit.

Today was his final installment day.

Four grands would elevate the total to thirty.

When his turn came, he gave cheque to the receptionist who had no idea she was sitting infront of a cold murderer.

Phantom Being watched her count money.

He cleared his space after getting the payment in his hands.

Phantom Being glanced back inside the bank hall while the security guard was holding the door open for him.

Nobody was looking at him.

He left the bank with no fame in his bag.

The killer walked to the parking lot, unlocked his car and drove the car further from there.

While changing gears, he clicked on message icon of his mobile phone.

He glanced at the address written on screen and drove for the place.

Phantom Being stopped the car in front of a trash can.

He came out of the car with a plastic bag in his hand.

He had brought the tray of tin foil all the way from his house just to dump it inside the very dustbin in the entire city.

Phantom Being removed the lid of trashcan and peeked in.

There was something for him.

He scanned the surrounding and when he felt everything was clear, he took the package from the dustbin and threw garbage from his house inside.

With the package, he hurried to his car.

Killer's fingers were trembling in sheer excitement.

He did not realize it, but he was smiling like a child.

At last he pulled a shiny Magnum from inside the packaging.

Phantom Being looked at the numbers and alphabets which were printed on the packaging.

His smile vanished.

The mercenary proceeded to call someone on his phone, "I already have this model."

"It is a premium pistol." The receiver answered.

"Not for me." Phantom Being had lost interest in the gun, "I need another one."

"That is expensive. Take it as a gift."

"Give me a cheap one but make sure it is something I don’t own." Killer interrupted.

"I paid you extra five grands." Man on phone yelled.

"Should I announce this to the whole world?"

The receiver sighed, "Exchange it with someone in black market. I believe you can get more than two unique firearms with the Magnum."

"What if they refuse?"

"Nobody can refuse you." The receiver paused, "If they do, then don’t cause any shit there and call me back. I ensure you will get what you want."

"Hmm." Phantom Being hummed in agreement.

He hanged the call.

He ran his fingers over the contact list.

Phantom Being never saved someone's number once the business was done.

He swiped down, looking for illegal firearm sellers.

"Immigrants." smirked Phantom Being before calling people whom he knew would exchange his gun with unique ones.