Aftermath

It was five in the morning. Don Crotcho, wearing a Scally cap and black tweed coat, flipped up his collar and stepped off the front stoop of his flat. He walked through the narrow, empty streets of Reykjav ­k.

The sun was long from rising and the air was crisp and still. He could see his breath as he made his way to the path along the Reykjav ­k Harbor. Past Hallgr ­mskirkja and the Government House, he kept walking.

Another job well done, The Don thought to himself.

If only he knew the far reaches of the crimes he helped commit.