Casey swallowed hard. "I told them I was bringing a friend. But let’s be clear, Strak—I want the passport and the keys to the safe house in Vancouver. No more games."
"Vancouver is lovely this time of year," Strak mused. "But there's a problem, Casey. The board members you mentioned? They don't like loose threads. And you, my friend, are a very frayed piece of silk." Run Away, Scene 2 - Casey Flip, Johnathan Strak...
The air in the alley turned ice-cold. Casey gripped the satchel tighter. "If anything happens to me, the drive auto-uploads to the feds in sixty minutes. You kill me, you kill your employers." Casey swallowed hard
"Run away, Casey," Strak whispered, almost tenderly. "Give me a reason to make this interesting. I’ll give you a ten-second head start." No more games
Strak tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips. He reached into his inner pocket, but instead of a passport, he pulled out a silver lighter. He flicked it open, the flame dancing in his dark eyes.
Strak stopped five feet away. The distance felt like a canyon. "And the buyer? You told them I was coming?"