Harvey Rudd moved the curtain a few inches away from the wall and studied Gray’s apartment through a night vision scope. Darkness. Same as the past several hours—confirmed by a continuous recording made by the tripod-mounted camera in the bedroom. He checked his watch: 3:34 a.m. It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t coming back tonight. Either the discovery of the trackers had spooked him enough to keep him away for a little while or he’d met with someone, after tossing the trackers, who convinced him to go dark. Neither scenario boded well for the Rudds’ retirement plans.

The next step was to contact CONTROL and let them know that Devin Gray had significantly deviated from the pattern. He’d already made them aware of the tracking device incident, which they’d thankfully dismissed as expected. An encouraging sign that Rudd and the team had been right about CONTROL having low expectations about the surveillance effort. It was time to take the gloves off.

His phone rang, its screen softly illuminating the darkened room, his face, and the ridiculously thin curtain next to him. If Gray was watching from somewhere, it would have drawn his attention. Maybe he really was getting too old for this shit. Turning off your phone or at least flipping it facedown at night on a stakeout was basic procedure. He swiped the phone off the coffee table in front of him and answered the call.

“Yes, my love?”

“Anything?” asked Jolene.

“No. I was about to send an update up the chain,” said Rudd.

“Maybe give it a few more hours?” she said. “Even if he’s up to no good, which is pretty much guaranteed, there’s a good chance he’ll show up in the morning to grab some personal items. We’ve seen that before.”

“That’s why I want to update CONTROL,” said Rudd. “If he very unwisely shows up tomorrow, which is unlikely given the circumstances, it could very well be the last time anyone sees him. CONTROL might want us to pop him if we get the chance, and I don’t feel like jumping through hoops at the last second. I’d like the green light now, if that’s where this is headed. We can get set up and do it right in the parking lot—or inside his apartment.”

“Don’t tease me,” she said. “I can picture it now.”

“Well. Like I said, he’d be crazy to show up, unless he just got spooked and decided to stay away for a night or two. We don’t have anyone watching his father’s place, or his work. He could be crashed out in his office or on a couch in Falls Church.”

“I doubt he’s anywhere obvious,” said Jolene.

“I agree. It’s wishful thinking,” said Rudd, taking another peek at Gray’s dark apartment. “I’m going to put together a message. See what they say.”