Carl couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept him awake; they skittered around his mind like a colony of ants. They were building a hill full of plans and worries and ideas. He knew that once he had gotten a way in that he wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, so he fell back on his military habits.

[i]Seventy one...seventy two...seventy three...[/i]

Crunches so soon after eating maybe wasn't the best idea. If he puked that would add some variety to his workout at least. 

Carl was trying to clear his mind with exercise, but thoughts about the job crept in anyway. It hadn't even started yet and already he had questions. 

[i]Seventy seven...seventy eight...seventy nine...

Why did they call me so early?[/i]

It was just possible that they already knew who he was and what he was planning to do with their petty gang. Could be that this meeting tomorrow was a trap and the second he showed up they would put a bullet in his head. But that wouldn't make sense; they told him to bring a gun. You don't ask a snake in the grass to come armed, unless you were colossally stupid, or crazy. 

[i]Eighty three...Eighty four...[/i]

The only other thing he could think of was that something had come up unexpectedly. Some opportunity arose and the Rosetti's were eager enough to snatch it up that they needed people quickly to help. Could be that one of the other families lost some territory, and the Rosetti's want to step in before anybody else. Maybe it was a surprise hit on another family. 

Carl [b]really[/b] didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't about to start gunning down people, even gangsters, just to maintain his disguise. That was too far. 

[i]Eighty five?...or was it seven?...[/i]

“Crap.” Carl leaned back on the floor and sighed. He couldn't even kill time right. He closed his eyes and started again, trying to imagine his commanding officer egging him on. Instead, his imagination conjured up the rather creepy image of Michael looming over him, staring at him dead eyed and saying quietly, [i]“They'll just as soon blow your brains out.”[/i]

Christ, he had to get out of this hole of an apartment. Carl got up quickly, ignoring the headache it produced and got changed. He needed to leave, clear his head in a bar or a club. [b]Something[/b], anything but staying here another minute longer with nothing to do but think about how many different and colorful ways he could get killed. 

He left the apartment, slamming the door and locking it quickly. Time to get a drink.