on Morales. “Is that a threat?”

“I never threaten, monsieur. I only forewarn.” Morales cleared a path to the elevator. “I recommend leaving this morning’s particulars out of next week’s—or is it biweekly?—edition.”

“What sort of game is this?” Samuel looked down at Morales. “Tell me everything and then threaten me not to have it published?”

“This is no game, monsieur. This is our insurance. You will see in time.” Morales studied him as if waiting for something or looking for a sign.

Samuel just wanted to get off that blasted roof. He pushed past Morales and made for the elevator.

“Until we meet again, monsieur,” Morales called after him.

Samuel punched the elevator’s...

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