Smith opened his eyes first. The light was bright and pure white. So was the floor, and when he lifted his head so were the walls and the ceiling. Although he couldn't quite discern where the light was coming from. There seemed to be no shadows. Jones was coming to in the chair next to him. They were both bound to the chairs, which were an incongruous Louis XIV type dining chair with red velour and a lot of gold filigree. The white room made all the colour harsh and stand out like everything had been cut out.
Well, they'd been captured and so there was only one way out now. Smith bit down on the fake molar at the back of his mouth. Instead of poison, it tasted of orange tic-tacs.
"Correct Mr Smith. Jones. Your little we're-not-going-to-jail tricks have been disabled." Came a disembodied female voice.
"Are you going to kill us?"
"No." Said the voice. "I have a proposition. One that I dearly urge you to consider."
"We don't make deals." Slurred Jones from the other chair as he woke up.
"Oh! Forgive me. Please understand, I wasn't making a deal with you. I am simply recommending your 'Retirement' to a nice part of the Caribbean, say."
"And if we refuse?" Said Smith.
The walls changed, and displayed what appeared to be a deep-dive into their entire joint career as assassins for hire.
"Your record is quite impressive. Over a thousand confirmed kills over a period of forty years. I believe you were considering retirement soon anyway; I am simply encouraging you to do so. If not? Then 'All' of this information, including the two of you, will be handed over to the American Federal Bureau of Investigations. Where, I suspect, they will not want to bother with any incarceration but go straight to the death penalty. Which, I am informed, quite gruesome."
"And if we say yes?"
"I will bolster your already substantial savings three times over. You will be allowed to settle anywhere you wish in the world. And last, but not least, you will cease all currently active contracts and take no new ones. Your last contract will be considered finalised and successful, maintaining your reputations in your particular 'Industry'"
The figure of Alice walked through the wall in her blue pinstripe suit. "And gentlemen, if you go anywhere near your last target ever again during the remainder of your lives I will personally disassemble you both. Molecule by molecule, and use you for materials. Waste not, want not after all!" She smiled.
"Perhaps a world cruise to start with Mr Smith?"
Smith nodded. "Agreed Mr Jones. And then a spot of house hunting in Monterey?" Jones gave a thoughtful nod.
"Are we in agreement?" Asked Alice.
"I do believe that we are." Said Smith.
"Good." She said. "I recommend you stay off the radar for the rest of your lives." She turned to go, before looking back. "Oh, and gentlemen. I will be watching..." She disappeared back through the wall as they both slumped in their chairs. Unconscious once more.