A muffled buzz came from the right pocket of his overcoat.

Cole didn’t move his hand, but the heavy wool shifted slightly as the vibration pulsed three times against his hip.

Through the narrow opening of his coat pocket, a faint blue light glowed where a phone screen had lit up.

I stepped back half a pace and glanced down at the sliver of glass showing in the fold of his coat.

A text preview lit up on the small screen: “Sierra: Audit team asking for client approval logs.