They reached the opera house much sooner than Scott expected. It was almost ridiculous. Horan was a powerful man, but he couldn’t bend the very fabric of space and time. He couldn’t make morning San Francisco traffic bow to his whims. Scott had thought they would have a good thirty minutes, if not forty-five. But everything had gone exactly right for Horan, and exactly wrong for Scott, and they parked near City Hall in what must have been record time. Scott still didn’t have his story straight. He didn’t know what Horan would do when he realized that Scott was bluffing the whole time.
He didn’t want to find out, either.
Horan got out of the car without a word and pressed a button on his keyring that noiselessly opened the trunk. After he pulled out a soft black leather laptop bag, he sla
