"An urgent news bulletin: A TWA Boeing 747 scheduled to fly to Paris exploded shortly after taking off from New York..."
Haji pressed the button on the car radio and switched to another station, one that was playing pop music.
He did not care who was singing. Right now, he simply did not want to hear any "bad news." Once soothing music began flowing through the car, he relaxed slightly and kept his eyes on the road ahead.
He was not a thug now, but a "delivery man." A private party wanted to order some "candy," and his boss had told him to drive it over.
How others chose to live their lives or destroy themselves was none of his business. Everyone had their own choices. Yet amid the bustling traffic, he could not help glancing from side to side, afraid that motorcycle cops might suddenly appear to conduct an inspection.
Before this, Haji had held a legitimate job for a while. Yet even working twelve hours a day, his income had still been "far beyond expectations."
He had no way to get British pension insurance. If he did not save up while he was young, he would not even be able to afford a nursing home when he got old.
It was not as if he had never considered becoming a mercenary, but Britain was not fighting any major foreign wars now, and besides, he did not want to fight anymore.
London's smooth streets and highways made driving a pleasure. He did not have to rattle along crater-filled roads in a tank. But just as he was about to reach Brockdale Bridge, the cars ahead suddenly slammed on their brakes. He immediately did the same, causing a vehicle behind him that had not kept its distance to crash into