The car Jelly sent arrived seven minutes late. Cruz and Susanto got increasingly uncomfortable with every minute. It was a fine evening: the setting sun gave everything a warm glow. A big, colourful butterfly flapped past, zigzagging wildly as if it wanted to take a closer look at Cruz. This could be interpreted as a promising omen, but Cruz as a rule didn't believe in omens or promises.
Omens existed only in the mind of the believer. Promises were often broken, sometimes without any ill will—for example, a debtor who'd been shot in the head couldn't really be blamed for subsequently defaulting on his debt. It could be safely assumed that he'd have preferred to pay back his loan to being dead.
Cruz was trying to calculate the price Jelly would put on his services when the car sent to pick them up arrived.
