CorbinBy eleven o’clock that evening, Faria and I were waiting outside the Berth. It was a weekday, which meant that the streets were fairly empty, and the building appeared vacant. Minghelli had obviously not found what he was looking for there and had abandoned it.
However, he wasn’t a complete i***t, and that was what we were depending on. An armed thug, clearly in his employ, circled around the lot three or four times an hour in a nondescript gray car, perfect for spying. Minghelli obviously suspected that Faria might choose to come back at some point—an assumption on which our plan depended.
Faria. It was still so strange thinking of her by that name. I glanced over at her, seated beside me at the café across the street from the Berth, her conspicuous hair tucked under a man’s cap.
