Unknown.No priors.No records.
That's even worse.
Who the hell is he?
My thoughts are interrupted by another vehicle pulling up, this one with tinted windows that make it impossible to see inside.The driver exits, a massive guy, security written all over him, and opens the back door.A man steps out, his face partially obscured, but I recognize him instantly: Marco "Mase" Castellano.If there's one person who definitely shouldn't be walking freely into a "legitimate" business, it's one of Chicago's most infamous mafia men.
I make another note and check the time.I've already been here too long.
As I get ready to head out, a prickling sensation crawls up my spine.
I'm being watched.
I don't turn immediately.Instead, I buckle up and start the car before casually glancing at the rearview mirror.
A man stands across the street, partially shrouded in shadows.He's not moving.Not pretending to be on his phone.Just watching me.
Shit.
Gripping the wheel, I force myself to stay calm.I don't recognize him, but that doesn't mean anything.He could be security.He could be someone else entirely.
Either way, my cover might be slipping.
Time to disappear.
Starting the engine, I pull into traffic, taking a route that loops through the city before heading back to my safe house.I check my mirrors constantly, but the man doesn't follow.
Still, I can't shake the feeling that I've been caught.
By the next morning, the paranoia hasn't faded.I'm running out of time.If security at Club Red is ramping up, they're preparing for something.
And if they know someone's watching?
That means they're watching back.
I spend the afternoon combing through records, looking for anything I missed.Once again, I run background checks on Carter and Hunter.But their files are spotless.Too spotless.Either they're clean, or they have powerful friends scrubbing their past.I suspect the latter.
I go back through the footage I've gathered.My laptop screen flickers as I rewind, pausing on the masked man from the night before.His posture, the way he carries himself, it's controlled.Calculated.He's not just a client.He's something else.
I forward the image to my contact with a single message.
Me:Do we have any hits?
A response comes five minutes later.
Contact:Not yet.Keep digging.
Exhaling, I rub a hand over my face.Need to keep digging.Easy for them to say.I'm the one in the field, the one risking exposure.And the way things are going, exposure is feeling inevitable.
I check my watch, time to head into another meeting with my boss.After seeing Mase last night, I figured it was enough to make a move.
Once in the office, I go over all the information I've gathered from the last few nights.
"You're telling me you just sat in your car and watched people go into a club?"My boss looks unimpressed as I stand in his office the next morning.The fluorescent lighting makes the bags under his eyes more pronounced.He's been under as much pressure as the rest of us lately.
"Not just 'people,' sir.I identified two high-profile businessmen, the club owners, and most importantly, Marco Castellano.He's a known associate of…"
"I know who Marco is," he interrupts, rubbing his temples."What I don't know is why you think watching him enter a club is worth an emergency meeting."