Chapter 15
T he man sitting in the living room of the condo across the street from the Promenade moved away from the telescopic lens and picked up his phone. His call went through on the first ring.
“ID confirmed,” he said.
“Very well. Proceed,” replied a voice, cold and detached.
He ended the call, stowed the lens and the tripod into a backpack with practiced precision, and left the condo.
It was time for The Vanguard to tip the first domino.
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