Takedown

CHAPTER 43

Mr. Gray lived in a very tidy brownstone apartment in Georgetown.

Every evening at six o’clock, his wife of thirty years greeted him when he came home from work, and brought him a glass of Pinot and the day’s mail.

Two days after the operation in the Bahamas was completed, although not quite to Mr. Gray’s satisfaction, he found a postcard waiting for him.

The photo on the front was an oversaturated shot of the St. Cajetan hotel, with all those ridiculous old cars parked in front of it.

Curious.

When Gray turned the card over and saw there was no stamp or mailing address, he frowned.

Had this been dropped directly into their box?

As his gaze drifted to the handwriting that formed the short message, a small chill ran through him.

He knew that handwriting.

No one else made Ss like that.

And if there was any doubt, the initials at the end of the note made the identity of the sender quite clear.

The message itself was innocuous, but the implied threat was evident to Mr. Gray. He knew that from here on out, he would have to stagger his routine. Not be so predictable. Because you never knew who might be watching…

The card said: