Page 105 of Chameleon Killer

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Did you photograph it?”

He pointed to a close-up taped beside the floor plan.

A small black camera perched near an exposed ceiling beam. No manufacturer markings. A thin cable ran behind the plastic.

“You think it belongs to him.”

“I think it doesn’t belong to the building.”

“Did you look behind the plastic?”

“No.”

I turned my head slowly. “Why not?”

“Because unlike some people, I know when I’ve accumulated enough bad ideas for one morning.”

“That’s deeply hypocritical.”

“Well, fortunately for us, it can be both hypocritical and correct.”

I examined the photograph.

The camera appeared cheap enough to be disposable but placed with deliberate care. It covered the stairwell door and the unfinished corridor beyond it.

If the Auditor had put it there, he knew Flint had visited. If someone else had, we had another problem.

“Brewster needs to know,” Flint said.

“No.”

His expression closed.

“We can’t involve him yet.”

“Because the invitation says alone?”

“Because the first line says I asked the wrong man.”

“That could be manipulation.” Wary or not of the suggestion, he still offered it up.

“It is manipulation.” I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. The Auditor wanted to control his “relationship” with me. That meant he wanted me to follow his rules.

“Then why listen and do this at all?” He knew the answer. He knew it. Because if he were me—he’d do the same thing.

“Because even if he is trying to manipulate me, that doesn’t mean he’s going to lie. A face to face gets me time with him to ask questions and even one kernel of truth makes this worth it.”

He turned back to the board but not before I saw the worry and disappointment vying for dominance in his expression.

I touched the card in my pocket. “You want the Auditor to believe I’m going alone.”

“Yes.” He kept his back to me.

“But you don’t intend to let me.” No more beating around the bush.

“No.”