CHAPTER ELEVEN
Savic was looking at the montage he had created over the last two weeks of Sara’s life. He was hiding in an unassuming basement flat that had a window shelf of flowers outside the kitchen. From the outside, no one would ever suspect what gruesome plan was taking shape on the inside.
Gone were the days of booking into a hotel with a false name. The police were wise to that and the world was now an interactive map. They could locate you anywhere if you checked in. A hit man doesn’t use free wifi in a café. A hitman doesn’t even keep the same number for more than a week. He had gone through five burner phones in the time he had known Christian, mainly because his troublesome client ignored his orders about keeping contact to a minimum. A hit man lives off the grid. A hitman i
