63
AUGUST WAS SITTING IN THE HALLWAY of the safe house, waiting for the pilot flying him to New York, when he heard an exchange between Howell and one of the operations techs:
“Mr. Howell, we have a match on the description of the man at the warehouse based on the description you and August gave. Is this him?”
“Yes. Who is he?”
“Piet Tanaka. Dutch national, formerly a contract employee for the Amsterdam police.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“He’s dropped out of sight, sir. No listed address, no listed occupation.”
“August!” Howell called.
August got up and walked to the computer screen.
“This the guy you saw in the warehouse?”
August nodded. “Yeah, distinctive face. That’s him.”
Howell turned back to the tech. “Find this guy. He’s got Sam Capra working for him.”
“I don’t think that’s accurate,” August said.
“Don’t you have a plane to catch, Agent Holdwine?” Howell said.
August left and found the pilot downstairs, ready to take him to the airport; Howell didn’t wish him well or thank him for taking a bullet. Treason poisoned the air; they all felt it since Howell had seen Sam Capra leaving the scene of murder and trafficking. Treason put people in a sour mood.