Kate’s phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
She called her only reliable contact—DS Marcus Webb, a grumpy but clean tech analyst. He met her in an all-night diner, reading the PDF over her shoulder. Index Of Line Of Duty
“H,” Marcus whispered. “Oh, God. He found the H.” Kate’s phone buzzed
“Run,” Marcus said.
H + Ted = Hastings.
Kate dialed a number she’d sworn never to use. ” Marcus whispered. “Oh
“Guv,” she said, breath fogging in the alley. “It’s Rainer. Carl’s dead. I’ve got the index. And I’ve got the passphrase.”