His fist hit the table hard enough to make the metal jump.
“I’m telling you how this works.”
“No,” Claire said quietly. “You’re telling me how it used to work.”
That landed.
He knew it landed.
Dugan straightened by the door.
Through the wall, Claire could hear muffled footsteps and distant radio chatter.
The station had changed.
Word was spreading.
The captain went in and out of the hall twice in three minutes.
The desk sergeant made two calls he clearly wasn’t supposed to make.
People were looking into the room through the glass slit and then looking away fast.
Panic had a smell.
It smelled like hot plastic and bad coffee and men trying to remember which lie they told first.
Kessler spread the fake file wider.
“Let’s try again. Who’s your supplier?”
Claire looked up at the camera in the corner.
Then back at him.
