April 17
Champions Bar
A barstool in Champions Bar seemed like a safer way to end my evening. I was only an elevator ride away from my room in the Marriott and far enough from Simone that I didn’t have to worry about her next move.
My phone was silenced while I listened to the soccer match on the television, but I heard the buzz as it vibrated from an incoming call. The number was blocked, which left open lots of possibilities. I might have simply swept the call away but as my trip to Vienna had become more complicated, I thought perhaps it was an important call.
It was Alana.
“Mr. Priest,” she began, and with the formality my hopes for détente were quickly dashed.
“We have opened another file on your computer. It is a video, looks like one taken with a body cam.”
“Okay. What’s on i
