"Look you fucking moron, we don't want excuses, can you do it?" He said, tipping the ash from the tip of the cigarette to the marble ash-tray in front of him, the voice was smooth, seeming to flow like a bottle of good whiskey, gave a sound that somehow resembled it. "Yes." The taller one said, his face was covered, a black shroud covered the bottom half of his face, the top half was covered by a cobalt plastic, two small yellow discs were his eyes should have been, a knife hung at his side. "Good, here he is" He spoke, taking another drag and tossing a small picture at him, a heavy set Englishman, Scott Reines. The man twisted in his chair, moving to the wall, and loading a revolver with sleek precision, twisting around again and thrusting it, he shot the pillar in front point blanc. The other man - the taller stranger was gone. Two bullets echoed through the room, twin plumes of dust and chippings fell around the Businessman's ears. The Stranger was directly in front, two blue guns in hand, smoke streaming from the barrels. "Protocol Two-Nine-Nine; Double Bluff." he spoke, an exasperated sigh breaking through the mask he wore, he took off behind one of the pillars, crouching and rolling, the Businessman took grip of the intercom on his desk, slammed the small button and ordered for backup, franticly reloading the gun again, white suited men burst from the door, smoke billowed from behind them as the breaching charge's debris fell through. "Stand down" one shouted at the front, his hand was lingering on the assault rifle trigger, the safety was on.