The assassin wore only a Speedo and his lean body was slathered with sunscreen that made him smell like a baked coconut. His name was Doric Thane and he sat on a poolside chaise lounge that faced Waikiki. To his right, and in the distance, was Honolulu International Airport. Behind him, the hotel tower stood against the backdrop of Diamond Head volcano and pale kids with floaties around their chubby arms frolicked loudly in the overchlorinated pool. There was a closed MacBook on his lap and a cold lava flow cocktail on the table beside him. He scratched absently at the puckered gunshot scar on his stomach and sighed with contentment.
- From True Fiction by Lee Goldberg
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