The walls of the small wooden hut pressed in around them, thick with the weight of fatigue and unaired tension. James and Sarah and Nathan seated in soggy clothes, their bodies pummelled by the surging sea. “Rafiq,” the old man poured himself a drink and peered over the rim of his glass.
“You look like s**t,” he mumbled as he took a slow sip. “Well, from what I see, hell is where you came from.”
James leaned in and put his elbows on his knees. “We need a safe place. Just for the night. After that, we’ll be gone.”
Rafiq exhaled sharply. “You think it’s that easy? You’ve got ghosts with you, and I can feel those ghosts scratching at my door.”
Sarah held the wet USB drive in front of her. “This isn’t just about us. This is everything on the Syndicate names, locations, operations. That’s e
