We’re halfway down Longsberg already, and they haven’t turned yet.

What’s with these people?

“They must be heading for Old Town,” I say loud enough for the mic to pick it up.

“Yeah. Looks that way,” replies Conlan’s voice.

Longsberg is littered with restaurants and clubs, and for all it’s cold, it’s actually a pretty nice night. The nightlife crowd are out, and the job’s been really easy, so far. Enough foot traffic for cover, not enough to get in the way. And the street lights are bright enough that I can even occasionally spot the lead bodyguard’s reflection in a facing window.

We have them loosely contained between us. Tara’s closest—just behind—to ensure we don’t lose them. I’m well in front: close enough to take over from her; far enough ahead that they won’t recognize me when I do so. Conlan is well back, coordinating everything, ready to sub in, if needed.

Nice and neat.

Why is it I hate it when things are this easy?

Conlan’s voice is in my ear again. “How are they going to lose us if they walk in a straight line the whole way there?”

Exactly.

I thought these people were supposed to be professionals. They sure aren’t acting like it. Still . . .  “Maybe they think they’ve already lost us. You did say Rian’s team were pretty sloppy.”

“Shit . . . . Think we should be more obvious?”

A young couple steps out of a restaurant doorway ahead of me, arm and arm, laughing to each other. The air from the restaurant smells strongly of fresh bread and charred meat. My stomach growls loudly. I shake my head to clear it.

“Problem is, if they already think they’ve lost us, and we suddenly appear . . .  they’re likely to get a lot more cautious the rest of the way.”

I don’t know. Maybe that’s the plan. But I can’t help it. Something is off about these people.

“Tara, any sign they’ve noticed you?”

“No,” she replies, barely audibly.

I need more information. I need to see these people for myself. I really should leave this up to Conlan—he’s a good guy and he doesn’t deserve this . . . . But, as much as he’s “in charge” . . . making decisions is just not one of his strong points.

There’s a side street up ahead. Time to choose.

Sorry, Conlan. “Tara,” I say as I turn the corner and stop, “I need to see them.

“Switch out.”