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.