Page 92 of Falcon’s Forever

Digger leans forward. “That’s him.”

Every head at the table turns toward him.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Digger points at the screen. “He’s the one who walked toward the warehouse.”

“The one you swung at?” Rook asks with a grin.

Digger gives him a flat look. “Yes.”

“Just establishing the evidence,” Rook says, lifting both hands.

I point at Digger. “Keep going.”

“He had a beard at the warehouse,” Digger explains. “It was short and dark.”

Condor pulls up a second image of the same man with a beard digitally added.

Digger nods immediately. “That’s him.”

“Where did the name come from?” Vulture asks.

“Hospital arrest prints,” Condor answers. “He’s the guy Falcon left at the industrial yard.”

So, the man Hustler shot in the leg and the man who tested our supply run are the same person. There’s not a coincidence in sight.

Sterling slides a sheet into the middle of the table. “Kells worked in private security for six years. He was a military contractor before that. Officially, he’s been self-employed for the last three.”

Harrier studies the figures. “What does ‘officially’ mean?”

“His tax returns show almost no income,” Sterling explains. “His bank accounts disagree.”

Harrier leans closer to the sheet. “How much?”

“More than four hundred thousand dollars passed through two accounts in eighteen months,” Sterling says.

Harrier whistles. “Expensive unemployed man.”

"Payments came through consulting firms," Condor says. "Most are dead ends. One isn't." A company name fills the screen. MERRICK LOGISTICS CONSULTING.

I recognize half of it immediately. "Feeder network?"

"Two directors overlap with the security company from the contract renewals," Sterling says.

Vulture folds his arms. "So, Kells connects the warehouse intimidation, the ambush, and whatever's left of Castellano's operation."

"Likely," Condor says.

"What about the compound hit?" Zip asks.

"His phone was mostly wiped, but he had an encrypted app running when police took it. They won't give us access."

Harrier snorts. "Uncooperative of them."

"I don't need their access." Condor pulls up a map. "I can use metadata from other sources. His burner pinged three numbers repeatedly over the last month. One near the warehouse. One near the compound, twice."

"And the third?" Ice Pick asks.