The old man did not accept George's name immediately.
He kept the thin file open on his lap and read the same page twice. Idris, Sella, and Brant stood in front of him inside the hotel suite. None of them spoke too quickly. The last time they had moved with confidence, Tobin had slipped away, Harlan had died, and Rust Gate had returned to the side they were trying to break.
"Someone may be feeding us this name," the old man said.
Sella nodded. "It could be."
"Then check it," he said. "I don't want to run after a name someone dropped in front of us. Road, police timing, Maren. If George touches even one of them, we move."
Idris lowered his head. "What about the Tobin rumor?"
"Too thin," the old man said at once. "Leave Tobin out for now. Give me roads, police, and money. Rumors can wait."
That order shaped the next day.
