He sipped a tea. A loud protracted slurp that warmed his core in the chill of the most dreadful winter in Kathmandu. A long content sigh, both hands around the cup of tea. A cup of tea was invigorating, it changed your mood from awful to safe and content. He considered how it could benefit him in other ways.
The businessman, who owned hundreds of million in a dozen factories -- and that was just the legally visible part of the iceberg -- made a point to come to the tea shop every morning, talk to the regular gang, get caught up on the down-low gossip. He dressed appropriately for the location, his tea buddies were unaware of his station in life. The young man who sometime accompanied him and on other occasions strolled about they took to be some sort of family or perhaps a servant, never the trained former military specialist who was serving as his body guard. Haka had recently become aware of the relationship after weeks of what he hoped was inconspicuous reconnaissance. Mr. businessman was almost never all by himself except at this hour of the day. The perfect opportunity.
Haka knew he wasn't too bright...he felt it particularly when he needed specialized technical knowledge and didn't know where to start from. His only knowledge of poisons that could kill humans, for example, was from watching Indian TV serials in the form of some white powdery substance murders would mix in food of their victims...they never explained where they got it form or what it was even. He was fairly certain, perhaps a midge of doubt though, that it wasn't just any random white powder or cocaine or anything...it had to be something whose taste would be imperceptible and it had to be slow-acting. It would be pretty obvious if his target dropped dead even before his first sip was fully in his stomach after all. Haka didn't know what to do.
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