The overseer yelled and toppled backward into the sand. Manish grabbed a rock and brought it down on his head. The overseer didn't yell this time.
Manish caught his breath behind a granite block and wiped his hands on his white linen blazer. There was a long, jagged rip up its right sleeve, where the overseer had grabbed just before he died.
He'd leave the ruined coat behind; his cover was blown, and Ramsey would want him dead. Even if Manish made it to Median City alive, he could say good-bye to the money and power he'd accumulated in Ramsey's inner circle. But he'd worry about that later. For now, Manish had work to do.
© Peter Rozovsky 2011