"Kill you?" repeated Gabriel, looking quizzically at Friesen. "I believe the going rate for rubbing someone out is $5 grand. I'm prepared to write you a check for twice that amount," Friesen said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You're serious? You expect me to murder you?" Friesen nodded. "This is nuts," Gabriel got up from his chair. "I think you should leave." "Don't you want to hear why? I think you might change your mind." Gabriel made a show of...