She looked up. Across the diner, a man in a black coat was rising from his booth, hand moving toward his jacket. Marcus saw it too.

She’d known Carl for three years. He didn’t own a laptop. He owned three. The one hidden behind a loose floorboard in his flat was the smallest—a ruggedized Panasonic with a cracked screen. Password: Hastings . Carl wasn’t subtle.

“H,” Marcus whispered. “Oh, God. He found the H.”

Kate grabbed the laptop and bolted through the kitchen exit, sirens already wailing in the distance—but not coming to save her. Coming to finish the index.

Below that, in red text: File location: Server 4. Passphrase required. Passphrase = “H” + [REDACTED].

H + Ted = Hastings.