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his number one secret goal because he knew none of them would understand. They might even laugh at him.
    Milo wanted to be James Bond. Oh, he wasn’t crazy. He knew James Bond was just a character in the movies. Milo had grown up watching 007 and had seen every Bond movie so many times he’d lost count. He could repeat word for word all of the lines Bond said.
    Milo’s miserable childhood had disappeared as soon as one of the movies started, and for a couple of hours he wasn’t the scrawny kid who got smacked around by his old man. No, Milo was James Bond.
    As an adult, Milo had gotten into the habit of praising himself. Was it any wonder he had accomplished so much at such an early age? He was exact; he followed directions—no matter how complicated or convoluted—and like all professionals, he never missed a deadline. Best of all, he kept his emotions out of the job.
    He couldn’t say the same for his ego.
    Milo was a hit man. Sort of. To date he had never actually killed anyone, but that was yet another fact he discreetly kept to himself.
    Luck got him into the profession, being in the right place at the right time. Kind of like those pretty movie stars who got discovered while they were sipping Cokes at the drugstore fountain. Yeah, just like that.
    Milo got discovered by Mr. Merriam, who happened to be walking by when Milo was beating the crap out of one of his neighbors. Mr. Merriam plucked him right out of that alley and hired him on the spot. Milo was given a tiny cubicle with a phone and a list of people to harass and threaten if they didn’t pay their debt. The collection agency was legit.
    A couple of credit card companies used them, and Mr. Merriam made a healthy income.

    But the boss had a couple of side businesses, too. Milo didn’t know what they were, but there were times when the boss’s “clients” disappointed him, and action needed to be taken.
    Milo had been working at the agency for about eight months when the boss called him into his office. Most of the other employees had gone home, and the second shift was just starting. Mr. Merriam came right out and asked Milo if he had ever killed anyone.
    Feeling clever and important, Milo didn’t quite answer the question. Instead, he told the boss that he had never had any problem taking a life. He guessed he was just a natural. If he hadn’t gone to work for the collection agency, he said, killing for hire might have become his chosen profession. He was that good, he boasted.
    Mr. Merriam was convinced of Milo’s sincerity and loyalty. He gave Milo his first killing assignment that night. Because he was pleased with that outcome, more jobs came in the months that followed.
    Milo’s ego swelled to an even greater dimension because of the confidence Mr. Merriam was showing in him. He decided his experience and know-how should be shared with others, and so, after completing several assignments, he began to compile a list of the lessons he had learned, thinking that, when he was old and ready to retire, he could pass these lessons down to another hit man just starting out.
    First lesson: wear disposable clothes.
    Case in point: Marshall Delmar Jr., Milo’s first assignment.
    Delmar was an investment counselor who had convinced Mr. Merriam to put money into a company that went belly-up. Mr. Merriam would have taken the loss in stride if he hadn’t found out that the slimy Delmar had sold all his shares and made a handsome profit right before the company crashed. Mr. Merriam was certain that Delmar had known the stock was going to plunge, and because he committed the sin of not sharing that information with Mr. Merriam, Delmar needed to die with all possible haste. Mr. Merriam gave Milo no other instructions than to make the death look like an accident.
    Once the hit was carried out, Milo returned to Mr. Merriam and proudly stated that the police report would say that Delmar’s death was the result of a fall, that he had stumbled and hit his head