“Samuel is driving us to the plaza,” I said.

“We should be back by three.”

“I’ll have the gatehouse cleared for your arrival,” Marcus said, stepping back into the hallway and closing the door without a sound.

At twelve o’clock, the sun was bright over the open-air courtyard of the commercial plaza downtown.

The air smelled of roasted coffee and fresh pine sawdust from the renovation work along the eastern walkway.

Samuel walked beside me at a slow, measured pace, his leather portfolio tucked neatly under his arm.