Kaufm

g striped shadows across the hardwood floor. I pulled o

d with military-grade ointment by Kiel hours ago; it

a lit cigarette between his fingers. As I stepped out, he snuffed it out, hi

icro-recorder into the side of my boot, offering a thin,

borrowed matte-black Dyna in front of the Frontli

ressed in a pristine racing suit, holding a tablet and

ified vest with the Velazquez family patch sti

shop door open, and let my heavy boots

face morphing from surprise to smug satisf

lemen, this is my former assistant. She has a temper

ight past him to the presentation screen disp

the quiet room. "Colin, did you bleed me dry for so lon

s. "Ashley! We have major investors here. Stop embarrassing yourse

gile face. "Ashley, please don't be mad. Colin only pu

she shrank back. "You don't even know the

ty. "Gentlemen, the Whisper system you're looking at is nothing more tha

, his hands reaching for my collar. "S

ought my open hand across his face with everything I ha

he stamped document from my pocke

thorizations to Frontline are terminated. If you run a single line o

frowned deeply, and tossed his folder onto the table. "Colin, you told us th

bled to salvage the deal, but the three men tur

nity. He spun around, veins bulging in his eyes like a cornered

ker bar from the cart and swu

knife, a deafening gunshot shatt

nse kinetic force, ripping the metal from Colin's grip

his bloody hand as every

frame, a smoking Desert Eagle re

rolled through the shop, quiet and

face draining of all color as he stumbled backward in

roken glass, and walked out to my bike