The small voice recorder felt like a lead weight in Ace's jacket pocket as he walked away from The Rusty Anchor. He had Marco Silva's words on tape – a real, undeniable account of Deke's extortion. It was proof. But Ace knew it wasn't the proof the System demanded. The System wanted Deke himself caught in the act. Silva's information about the Thursday pickup was the key. A dangerous key, but Ace had to turn it. Preparation was everything.
The next afternoon, Ace went back to The Rusty Anchor. The air inside was still thick with the smell of stale beer and wood polish. Silva stood behind the bar, methodically wiping down glasses. He looked up as Ace entered, his expression a mix of weariness and cautious resolve.
"You need something else?" Silva asked, his voice low.
"I need to see the closet," Ace said, getting straight to the point. "I need to know exactly where I'll be. And I need to test the recorder. See if it can pick up sound clearly enough through that vent."
