32
The Procurer stood at the top of the basement stairs. Redcliffe Manor was silent. The retirement home’s elderly residents had all gone to bed hours ago. Only one orderly worked the night shift, and he was sprawled in a pool of his own blood on the concrete floor below.
The Procurer descended the stairs on silent feet to inspect the body. The man at his feet was lean and gangly, with graying black hair and dark skin. His head was twisted at an awkward angle. His glasses had fallen from his face and cracked on the floor.
The Procurer felt a twinge of regret. He hadn’t wanted to kill Sam. In fact, he had resisted doing so for decades. But he was a practical soul, and knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. Kira knew his real name. Sam had been the last living tie to his previous life. H
