Harlan Voight sat in his Paris apartment and watched the morning become afternoon.
The messages had come in sequence.
At eleven-seventeen, a formal notice from an Edinburgh financial investigation firm, referencing three shell companies he had spent considerable effort concealing. The documentation attached to the notice was, he noted with a distant professional admiration, extremely thorough.
At eleven-forty-nine, a brief message from Carmila: I am no longer available for this project. This channel is now closed.
At twelve-oh-four, no confirmation from Brennan.
At twelve-twenty, his intermediary reported that the Ross family had formally communicated their withdrawal from all arrangements connected to the Voight account, effective immediately, citing unspecified strategic concerns.
He sat with these four things for a while.
