"Who told Robert about this place?" he asked. His voice lowered; the market's noise masked their conversation. He could not risk naming the hooded woman yet — not in code and not in public.
Sofie's reply came quick, pragmatic. "Chief says Robert's source filed from somewhere close to the meat district. The timestamp matches a call made from an alley near Flim & Flam. It's messy. The Chief isn't saying more, only that Robert sent a audio proof to him at 22:03 and the warrant was on the street by 22:12."
The numbers hung like evidence between them. Brendon could feel the geometry of coincidence bending. Ninja Fox's shadow bow in the alley; the brand; Robert's tip, the RTPD sweep — Stella threads that did not straighten by accident.
"I think I know who is Robert's source." he said slowly. "Theory. Not a fact."
Sofie's breath was small. "Tell me."
"He — she — left before Robert filed," Brendon said. "I saw her here. Ninja Fox. She left the alley less than five minutes before your timestamp. Not a normal interaction. She watched. Then Robert's source called in. That timing — that can't be a coincidence."
Sofie was quiet, the kind of silence that meant cogs were turning. "You're saying Ninja Fox, the infamous burgalar of London's street, passed the tip to Robert? Are you insane?"
"Maybe," he said. "Or someone she works with. Or someone who follows her trace. But she was here. She saw what was in the crate. She smelled it. Her presence lines up with Robert getting the proof. We need to assume connection until we can prove otherwise."
Sofie's voice returned, made of metal and tempered fear. "If she's the source, she's playing a dangerous game. Robert's source might get hunted. Or used."
Brendon let the words settle. He could see the hyena's silhouette, far off, a darker shape moving against a floodlight. He could imagine bridges and boats and men with business cards that were also warrants. He tasted the city again, copper and salt. His pulse steadied.
"Stay on the feeds," he told Sofie. "Watch Guerieo's accounts, the export tags, and the shipping manifests. If you see movement connected to that brand, flag it. And Robert — see if you can get a line to him. Ask who he talked to. Carefully."
"Be careful," she said, softer than before. "And don't go anywhere alone like this one. And get some sleep first, man. You won't last long if you continue like this."
He let her care sit on his shoulders like a coat. He had worn heavier. He had worn lighter. "I won't. I promise." he lied again, because lying was easier than admitting what he feared: that the city had opened a mouth, and something from inside had whispered his name. "And don't worry. I don't sleep."
Then hangs up the call. Tugs his phone in pants pocket. And brings the cigarette pcket out. Then he lights up the cigarette in his mouth. Now he started to walk beside the riverwalk. Things have changed a lot in last two months. He hasn't met anyone in person since that day. A life of a escapee, kind of déjà vu feeling. His five years in jail was way better than this though.
"Hah... let's see where it goes." He sighed.