The flight landed at six forty five in the morning, gray Swiss light filtering through the terminal windows in a way that felt appropriate for the kind of conversation Noa was flying toward. She'd slept maybe two hours on the plane, the rest of the time spent running through every possible version of what she'd say to Gregor Saal, rehearsing and discarding approaches the way she used to rehearse difficult client conversations before major audit presentations, except those had never involved a man who knew exactly where bodies were buried, literally or otherwise.
Kieran's two security people, a woman named Asha and a man who'd introduced himself only as Renn, flanked her through customs with the kind of practiced invisibility that made Noa understand, more viscerally than anything she'd wi
