Three days later, Far Harbor Central Park sits under a gray lid of winter cloud. Dallas Fontaine waits in the trees while Professor Dayton paces by the duck pond, his coat pulled tight, his nerves showing.
Professor Dayton
Dallas, I am being followed. I saw the same man twice, near my building and again at the corner.
Dallas Fontaine
Go to the park. I will be there, undercover, and I will see who it is.
Professor Dayton
Undercover? Then you already expect trouble.
Dayton turns his head toward the treeline, and the heavy footsteps there go quiet for a beat, as if someone has stopped to listen.
Dallas Fontaine
The footsteps are close enough to matter, but not close enough to show themselves.
Dallas keeps still in the shadow of the oak, fedora low, coat dark against the bark. Whatever is tailing Dayton is now tied directly to the customs annex, and to Jackson Temple's name on the false routing slips.
Dayton reaches into his pocket and glances at his phone again, waiting for Dallas to make the next move.
Identify the tail in the park