Leo comes and goes on a pattern, which tells me he's either arrogant or stupid. Probably both. He leaves the building every morning between eight and nine, always with at least one of his friends, always heading in the same direction. He doesn'tvary his route. Doesn't look over his shoulder. Doesn't check his mirrors when he drives.
He has no idea I’m watching him.
That's going to be a problem for him.
My phone buzzes on the passenger seat.
Miles
Found something. Call me when you can.
I call him immediately.
"Talk to me."
"So, I dug into Leo's dad like you asked." Miles's voice is calm, the way it always gets when he's found something worth finding. "Patrick Holt. You already know what he did to Olivia. But there's more."
"How much more?"
"Enough." I hear him exhale. "He's been involved in three other cases. Partrick Holt cleans up his son’s messes. It sounds like they have a thing going on where they do this for fun and the dad knows they do. Different cities, different girls. Always the same setup, his son or one of his son's friends, a victim who can't fight back, and money used to silence everyone involved. He's got two lawyers on permanent retainer just for this. The oncologist he used against Olivia's mum, Dr Callum Reid, he's done it before too. He pulled treatment from at least one other patient to keep someone quiet."
My jaw tightens so hard I feel it in my back teeth.
"Names?" I ask.
"I've got them. All of them." A pause. "H, this goes further than just Leo and his dad. There's an entire network of these people. Old money, old connections. They've been doing this for years and walking away clean every single time."
"Not this time," I say quietly.
"No," Miles agrees. "Not this time."
"The hit Cain gave me," I say. "Patrick Holt is the name in that envelope.”
Miles doesn't answer straight away. Which is answer enough.
"Cain doesn't do anything without a reason," he says finally. "You know that."
I do know that. I've always known that. Every target Cain has handed me has had a thread connecting back to something, someone, some damage left behind that the world chose to look away from. He doesn't pick names out of the air. He builds cases, quietly, methodically and devastating. Once he has a plan to make sure that if something goes wrong, he can cover us and we don’t get in trouble, then he hands them to me when the time is right.
Patrick Holt's time is coming.
But first, I want Leo.
I get out of the car just after eleven.
Not to do anything. Not yet. This is purely reconnaissance; the part Cain drilled into me until it’s muscle memory.Know the ground before you move on it. Know every exit, every angle, every variable. Patience is the weapon nobody sees coming.
I pull my hood up and cross the street, hands in my pockets, and my pace easy. I just look like another person walking past. Nobody looks at me twice. I’m insignificant.
I take a slow lap of the building, clocking the side entrance, the car park barrier at the back, the blind spot between the two cameras on the east wall where the coverage drops for approximately four seconds on rotation. Four seconds is more than enough.
On the way back past the front entrance, I glance up.
The third floor window is still lit.
I keep walking to make sure I see everything I need to.
Back in the car, I call Cain. He picks up on the second ring. "I was wondering when you'd call."
