"The Puppet Master has caught up to one of our informants," said an old man among five others seated around a round table. He wore a black suit, leather gloves, and a black hat, a thick brown cigar clenched between his lips. "He and his entire team have been executed."
The rest of the room was dark, lit only by a single bulb dangling above the table. Beyond its glow, in the shadows, stood heavily armed soldiers—silent silhouettes revealed each time the bulb swung by. One seat at the table remained empty, likely reserved for one last guest.
Richard, also with a cigar between his teeth, tapped rapidly on his phone. The device clicked a few times before he set it on the table. Leaning forward, he pulled the cigar from his mouth, locked his fingers together, and exhaled a slow breath o
