Page 63 of Zorro

Zorro slowed his pace.

“Hey,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for D-Day.

D turned toward him. “What’s up?”

“That guy,” Zorro said. His voice had dropped, quiet, still. “The one near the bike rack. He was there this morning too. Didn’t move for forty minutes.”

D-Day followed his line of sight.

The man was walking away now. Too much control in the shoulders. Civilian clothes, but the cut was tactical. His shoes were wrong, urban grade but too quiet. Hands loose, unarmed, but the kind of loose that told Zorro they weren’t unfamiliar with draw mechanics.

Buck noticed the shift in tone and dropped into step without a word.

“Eyes on,” Buck murmured. “Could be local. Could be press.”

Zorro shook his head. “Too clean for a journalist. Too observant for a lookie-loo.” Zorro scanned up. “He happened to find the only blind spot.”

The man turned a corner and disappeared behind the security wall’s far end.

“Want me to follow?” D-Day asked.

“No,” Zorro said, already moving. “I’ve got it.”

“Martinez.” Zorro paused mid-stride, looking over his shoulder at Joker.

“I saw him too.”

Of course he did. Joker missed nothing.

Zorro moved faster now, crossing to the edge of the block. He rounded the corner, boots brushing loose gravel, pulse tightening in that low, certain way it always did when a pattern clicked into place too late to be comfortable.

The alley behind the wall was empty.

Still.

The scent of smoke and brake fluid hung in the air. A water hose coiled near a cinderblock wall dripped steadily, like something had disturbed it and vanished.

Zorro walked slowly. All the weapons had been stowed in the SUV. He passed a rusted gate. A crooked window. He paused.

There. Scuff marks. Fresh. The dust hadn’t had time to settle.

He knelt, touched one with his fingers, then looked up at the wall. There was a partial print in the concrete, one foot up. A boost. Someone had scaled it. Recently.

Zorro straightened slowly. He couldn’t reach her heart but if something was coming, he’d damn sure shield her body. Even if she never let him back in.

Behind him, Buck arrived in silence. “He cleared it?”

“Yeah.”

D-Day cursed softly. “We’re getting watched.”

Zorro’s jaw tightened. “This wasn’t random. He was observing patterns. Watching who came out. Who stayed behind. Saw the rotations.”

“You think he’s part of Batista’s network?” D-Day asked.

Zorro didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.