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Beaufort, South Carolina

October 28

I nside the dark bar, Halloween had arrived early. A local band played Monster Mash as costumed partiers sang along. The crowd had spilled out onto the deck, and on the beach, three guys all dressed as Michael Myers were chasing people with rubber knives.

Miles spotted his brother and Finn sitting away from the commotion at a corner table decorated with a fake jack-o-lantern. He greeted the men and sat.

“So, Garza.” Miles couldn’t be bothered with small talk tonight.

Tox pulled a beer from the ice bucket and passed it over. Without looking away from Finn, Miles took the beer and twisted off the cap.

“Yeah,” Finn sighed.

“What’s on the back of this guy’s baseball card?” Tox asked.

“Garza’s a utility player. He’ll work for anyone if the price is right.”

“Doing what?” Miles took a swig.

“Locating targets, live drops, recon, kidnapping. If there’s a paycheck in it Garza will do it. I met him once—in Odessa. Garza was facilitating a payoff for an arms dealer to a corrupt government official to use the ports. Someone tipped off the local bratva, who didn’t take too kindly to their turf being invaded. The short version is that by the end of the night, five people were dead, and two million dollars in Bitcoin had vanished.”

Finn shelled a peanut from the bowl on the table and ate it.

“He has a solid reputation in his world. Reliable, effective. Flies under the radar. After Odessa, I had my CIA handler look into him. More than once, Garza has been on the outskirts when a deal went FUBAR and money vanished. He’s good at covering his tracks.”

Miles ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “You think he’s pulling something with this Lucien Kite heist?”

“I think we’d be wise to watch our six with this guy.”

Tox slapped the table. “Let’s kick Garza to the curb. We can’t work with someone we don’t trust.”

Miles rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Or we make sure we’re one step ahead.”