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Karlsson received the notification that he had won late one Wednesday evening. The use of a hired assassin, at his disposal, for one assignment. The 'competition' was of the utmost secrecy of course, this sort of thing wasn't in your women's magazines and Sunday supplements.

The knock on the door came at equally late an hour. Karlsson opened it, yawning. He saw the gun before he saw the face of the man who held it.
'Mr. Karlsson, I presume?' the man said, pulling the trigger.

Someone, somewhere, had won the prize before Karlsson. They just cashed in before he did.

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