THE ART OF RUIN
I needed to know what he had planned.
The café was quiet when I arrived.
He was already there, sitting by the window in a crisp white shirt, stirring his coffee like he had all the time in the world.
He looked up as I approached, his expression unreadable.
“You came,” he said simply.
“I shouldn’t have,” I replied.
“But you did.”
I sat down across from him.
“So what’s the plan?”
He leaned forward, sliding a folder across the table.
“Step one,” he said.
“We make them trust us again.”