As the sun beamed down on San Andreas at high noon, Nathan Albright drove along the Great Ocean Highway through Blaine County in his gray Feltzer. With a fully loaded combat pistol carelessly placed on the passenger seat next to him, he muttered some words to himself as he passed through Paleto Bay.
"Yeah, I got contacts 'round here," he recounted the loosely affiliated gangster saying to him earlier, "one in particular is really up for a job but I ain't got her name."
"You what?" Nathan remembered saying in response. He had to be joking.
"Look, just head to the Procopio Truck Stop and wait for a Banshee to pull up. You'll meet them there." they replied.
"What about the candidates I canvassed!" Nathan demanded, unsatisfied with the answer.
"Well, I don't think they was interested no more," they said, completely unfazed at the aggression, "but this one's just as good as any of the rest of them crooks we had you look over before."
Nathan didn't like having a change of schedule being thrown on him at the last second. Had they warned him before he made the flight out from New Peachtree, he probably wouldn't have given it much thought. Once he had parked in front of the 24/7, Nathan leaned his back against his car, stowed his handgun in his concealed holster and situated his sunglasses so they covered his eyes.
Hopefully, whoever he was waiting for, was legit.