Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Are you questioning my judgment?", Joubert hissed. He was known for his short fuse and had a tendency to shout down objections. But when he started hissing, things were about to get really dangerous. Nevertheless Guerrero didn't let go of the subject.

"All I'm saying is that this is nothing that should be rushed."

"Should not be rushed? He's in contact with the goddamn FBI, for heaven's sake! What shall I be waiting for, the Feds knocking on my door? This is not simply a personal you-or-me situation, Guerrero. This affects all of us. When he spills the beans, we all go down!"

Unfortunately, he was right.

"I don't want you to do it, though. I just want you to be there and make sure everything goes smooth. Let the boy pull the trigger."

… … …

The boy.

One of the reasons why Guerrero had no friends in the business was that he had never met anyone he wished to spend any more time with then absolutely necessary.

Until Joubert had brought in the boy one day.

He was reckless, bordering on crazy, but an incredibly fast learner and unusually bright. His sense of humor, though, had something suicidal about it...

Not many dared to play a prank on Guerrero. The boy did it twice.

He made no attempt to lie himself out of the punishment. Doesn't mean he didn't fight back like hell, but he faced the consequences. After the second time they had a couple of beers together.

Guerrero decided not to tell him.

… … …

As he saw the target for the first time, the boy hesitated for the split of a second. He hadn't expected someone pretty much his age, a lanky young man, hardly twenty.

"What did he do?", he asked, but Guerrero only shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. Someone wants him dead, that's all you need to know. When we come into the game, everything's already decided, no need for questions. It's healthier that way, trust me."

Something in the boy's face told him that he did not completely agree with this point of view. Guerrero made a mental note that he would have to work with him on that.

He took out the target with one clean shot, though. The man's death throes lasted only a moment, but in this short space of time he managed to turn around, look past his murderer and Guerrero straight in the eye with an expression that was probably intended to induce guilt. Thus the last thing he ever saw was Guerrero shrugging his shoulders: "Me or you, dude."

… … …

"Well done, Junior!"

Joubert poured his employees and himself some Bourbon.

The new form of address hadn't escaped the boy's attention, of course. He beamed with pride.

Guerrero accepted the glass from his boss and drank with him.

Never had Bourbon tasted so bitter.

… … …

Somebody handed the officer in charge a fax from Quantico. It was typically FBI-shortish, contained nothing but the barest need-to-know information regarding the victim's identity. Since he was still questioning the man's wife, he barely glanced at it.

"Did your husband have any kind of family?"

"An estranged father, in New York."

"Do you want us to notify him?"

"I think he already knows."

Not sure what to make out of that, the officer looked at the fax again and jotted down the deceased's real name.

Victor Joubert Jr.