Chapter 4

Gage gave himself ten minutes before standing. He put on his sunglasses, adjusted his cap so the bill shaded his face, then walked casually across the patio. When he was almost to the man’s table, he appeared to stumble and grab for the man’s shoulder with his left hand to keep from falling. At the same instant, he pulled a folding knife from the sheath on his waistband, flipped it open, and then slashed it across the target’s throat, twisting it as he did. The target fell forward, blood pouring from the wound. A woman—one of Morse’s operatives—had screamed. Appearing to panic, Gage had dropped the knife on the pavement beside the table and raced off the patio to meld into the foot traffic on the sidewalk. The only perceptible thing that pointed to him as the killer was the blood on his shirtsleeve, almost invisible against the sleeve’s bright floral pattern.