As soon as we had driven away from the dingy alleys of the red street areas, I noticed that Anthony was glaring at the scenery that we drove past. The congested streets of the metropolitan city demanded that everything looked to grey to concentrate on. Everything was plain, indistinguishable and unimportant. There was no need to concentrate on details when it came to driving on the streets of the dull roads of cement mass. For people who watched over their back and took in every detail around them, the concrete was our personal hell. The paranoia of walking among things so unimportant only showed what secrets lay veil right in front of our eyes. In a moment of unguarded exalting of a victory that wasn't ours to celebrate, we almost got caught in the conspiracy of having the accusation of Joe's murder on our head. It would have pleased both Anthony and I to do it ourselves, but it would have led us to come in the fire of Anthony's associates who would have blamed him for the ongoing feud between Darcy and him. It could turn the game around in a fraction of a second, I realized.

It seemed almost mechanically choreographed. If our location had been compromised was not known, but it was a long shot. So far, the only one who was in the direct line of suspicion was locked up in her room with no way to contact the outside world. And there was no chance that there were bugs planted in the mansion or on any of us, the thorough checks that Ethan did on every person in the mansion and in every corner of the mansion were thorough and like the meticulous strategy the black cats used to comb through congested cement blocks and in the wilderness.

Then, in a moment of coincidence, we had experienced the joyful event of Joe death. Despite the worry marring Anthony's brow and the click of his jaws clearly stating that the sheer timing of such an incident had hit a nerve.

And just like that, our paranoia was proved.

The proof that we needed to throw Nolan out and kill him off was in our hands. We could use it as leverage to take the cargo back or we could use it as an excuse to track the man down and take him down. He had acted as an unprofessional agent by revealing himself so openly in front of everyone.

It left the question of his plans open for us to speculate on. What was his purpose for trying to maintain contact with the mob for such a short period of time? The way that he had gotten about dealing with Joe would have inadvertently ended in him being exposed and it wouldn't have taken us more than a few months to catch his scent. If he was there to ensure that the loss of losing business with Anthony could be overcome by eluding him, then why would he make such a stupid mistake? He looked like someone who knew how to handle situations, but then everyone makes their own share of mistakes. Maybe he had left it to chance to see how long he could play out the elaborate plot of being new to the business. What was improbable was that we hadn't estimated his rank in relation to Darcy. He was obviously someone who Darcy trusted, but he also seemed to fear the man (as any sane man would, Darcy was a cold-blooded mobster).

The urge to run over to my place and take out the records and review them again rushed through me. It was obvious that we would have a drastically different take on the conversation caught on tape, now that we had a better idea about the people who were involved. What fascinated me was the layered nature of the conversation. My memory of the exact words was blurred, and it only incited further interest on the topic. The urge to rush home seemed like the best thing to do. The curiosity and piqued interest could soon fade away or our minds could be less receptive to any new information that we might gain from the tape, and that would be highly inappropriate. It seemed like the logical thing to do—to go over to my place, but I was uncomfortable with the idea of Anthony inside my apartment.

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