Jones stared at his computer screen. To put is simply, he was frustrated. Not only had he wasted a whole week trying to find this woman again, he still hadn't found out anything on any types of leaks of his methods.

He slammed his head down on the desk and let out a high-pitched, exasperated scream of "Fuuuck!" Jones grabbed for his sixth cup of coffee and looked at the clock. 5:16. It was going to be a loong day.
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The man looked around the park for the person he knew was going to be there. Katyusha was holding a semi-public rally today, and it was going to be in the backroom of a small cafe very near there. Today was the day he would kill her.

His plan was to go through with the meeting, trade information, somehow get her alone (or with as few people around her as possible, which shouldn't be too hard), and take her out, along with anyone who was foolish enough to stay behind. And finally, finally, he might be able to figure out how the spy knew how he killed. And collect the nice reward, which was something that he did think about fairly often. Money was the only thing separating him from every other petty killer out there, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Ah, Katyusha! Nice to see you again, darlin'," he greeted the woman walking up from the other side of the sidewalk. She has short hair, a knee-length skirt, and a floral blouse that complimented her large chest without explicitly drawing attention to it. "It's a wonder no one unpleasant has tried to take you out yet, Katyusha. You're so beautiful it would grab the attention of everyone in the room back in my country!" Jones walked up to her and grabbed her hand, kissing the top of it lightly. He ma just be playing a part, but he wasn't lying when he said this. In all honesty, this was probably a bad decision, but it also showed how much bravery and blind trust she had, which worked quite well in his favor.

"It's good to see you, too, Alfred. And thank you, although I doubt that that's true." she replied with a smile. The Ukrainian lead the way to the small coffee shop.

They were on the very edge of Russia, so he would be able to get a pardon if someone saw him kill her, guaranteed. Well, nothing was really guaranteed in his line of work, but this had a pretty high chance of happening, so he decided to take it.

They walked to a small room in the back, which he found to already be set up with maps, papers that were either blank or completely filled with text or messy and smeared writing.

He stepped up to the table and started to study it's contents before he heard the bolt to the door slide locked with a click. The hitman turned to look at the woman before him, now dark and calculated in her demeanor; a completely polar switch from the woman she had been just a few minutes ago.

"Alfred," she started, switching to an accented english, "I know you were paid to kill me."