With three men outside the SUV, though, that probability dropped into the single digits. Particularly because one didn’t seem all that interested in what was being said. Instead, he was searching the darkness around him, keeping one hand inside his jacket and moving his head randomly so Rapp couldn’t take advantage of a pattern. Definitely not some run-of-the-mill Arab dipshit. If Scott Coleman had been there, he’d be looking to make this asshole a job offer.

Rapp was trying to come up with some kind of diversion when one of the men lit a cigarette. The flare briefly revealed his features as he and one of his companions got back into the SUV. They pulled away while the third man got into Singh’s car and left via the same route, undoubtedly on his way to a junkyard where the vehicle would be crushed and shipped off for scrap.

Rapp stayed put, waiting for almost a half hour before the other two men reappeared from the building. They climbed into their SUV, pulled through the gate, and then headed out after locking it behind them. Rapp waited until their taillights were no longer visible before entering. The gloom was even deeper and he relied on his nose to guide him as his eyes struggled to adjust. There was no mistaking the smell of fresh concrete.

The wet slab he found was about ten feet by ten feet—filling a mold next to a completed section of floor. Time was of the essence, so he just waded in, scooping his hands through the thick concrete until he found Singh’s ankle. There was no point in dragging the body out, so he just searched it there. A wallet. A cell phone with the back missing that looked to be in pretty bad shape. A flip phone that was a little better protected. And, finally, a soggy Browning Hi-Power. That was it.

Rapp used a foot to sink him again and then the tools that had been left behind to smooth the slab. His work wouldn’t win any prizes, but he needed to be the hell out of there before those cameras came back on.

He went back out front, climbing the fence and running toward his vehicle. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the surveillance systems were still shut down. The GID probably figured that there was no hurry. Singh wasn’t going anywhere and work on the building wouldn’t start again for at least another few hours.

Rapp finally allowed himself to relax a bit when he turned onto the freeway. He kept the Porsche steady, splitting his attention between searching for tails and making sure the concrete he was dripping stayed on the floor mat.

Bashir Isa.