I show Dominic the phone.
He takes it and looks at the photograph for a long time. The warehouse exterior, dark, taken from across the street at an angle that catches the building number clearly. Timestamped forty minutes ago.
Someone knew the location before we did.
Or someone followed Rosamund's people when they went to prepare it.
Either answer is bad. They point to different problems but they land in the same place. Nowhere is clean. Nowhere is ahead of whatever this is.
"We cancel," Dominic says.
"If we cancel we lose the window," I say. "Gareth is in a hospital. Orlan knows we have the documents. Hadrian knows we're moving toward a Conclave confrontation." I look at him. "Every day we don't move is a day they get further ahead of us."
"Every day you're in an exposed location i
