I sent a text from Mason to the group chat. Message. I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to the cops. Don’t look for me. I watched through the scope. The reaction was instant. Dominic checked his phone. He froze. He showed the phone to Evan. The laughter stopped. Grant wiped the powder off the table in a panic. The arm wrestling ended.
They started arguing. I could see Dominic shouting, pointing at the door. He was sending people out to look for Mason. Chaos. Panic is the enemy of organization. When people panic, they make mistakes. They get sloppy. I packed up my scope. I knew their next move. If they thought Mason was going to the cops, they would try to scrub the evidence.
Irían al almacén 4 para mover las armas antes de que llegara la policía. Estaban haciendo mi trabajo por mí. Estaban reuniendo todas las pruebas en un solo lugar. Conduje a los muelles. La terminal sur era un laberinto de contenedores de envío, óxido y sombras. Era el tipo de lugar donde sucedían cosas malas y nadie veía. Estacioné mi camión a una milla de distancia y me mudé a pie.
