The fog hadn't lifted. It never really did.
From the shadows across the street, I watched the Ministry of National Resilience loom like some cruel parody of a sanctuary. A haven for secrets. Five stories of reinforced silence, each level breathing with authority, surveillance, and something deeper.
Something rotting.
I had two options.
I could walk in, play the obedient dog Director Connor hoped I'd become. They would let me through the front doors, maybe even offer coffee. All I had to do was name Mark.
But I wasn't about to betray the one man who might still be in my side, not until I at least talked to him.
So I took option two.
Deduction, Instinct and Observation. My holy trinity of slipping through the cracks.
