We had twenty-three hours left.
Anthony's voice was still ringing in my ear, sharper than the bitter coffee Grant had handed me, sharper than the hum of the servers and the cold blue glow of the screens.
"I got him."
But it wasn't just that. He'd called back immediately, breathless, the crackle of cheap connections barely hiding the tight excitement in his voice.
"Reynard, I know where he's hiding. And I know where the hostages are."
That made everything else stop.
Grant was looking at me from across the room, the other officers glancing up from their screens, pausing in their restless shuffling, their coffee breaks, their attempts at normalcy.
I pressed the phone tighter against my ear, turning away, stepping near the window to watch the city lights flicker under the early dawn haze.
"Are you sure?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
