USED TO BE most of my targets were tough gunthugs. Russian Mafia with tattoos jumbled all over everywhere. On my last job, I killed this low-level Chinese pimp who had a geek in his basement running code.
Men like that pimp were soldiers. Lived violent, died violent.
Holding a gun to the temple of some tough motherfucker ready to kill me the moment I made a mistake, that didn’t feel so wrong.
But thinking about trying to kill the coder, still in his teens, a box of Chinese food and some chopsticks still in his hand and the eyes of a startled doe about to get shot, well that had shook me. I’d aimed at the geek, then put the gun away and told him to run.
PS: as a huge fan of Wired, I’m of course thrilled to see my story up there on my blog. Geek cred FTW!