POV: Thomas Webb
Thomas Webb arrived at the penthouse on a Tuesday afternoon, unannounced.
Julian saw him step out of the elevator and immediately calculated risk. Webb was alone this time, no backup, no witnesses to an interrogation. He was dressed casually, carrying a coffee from somewhere downtown, moving like someone who had time for a social visit rather than an official one.
"Got a few minutes?" Webb asked, and his tone was genuinely friendly.
Julian's entire body went rigid. Got a few minutes could mean many things. It could be conversational. It could be a prelude to accusation. It could be the opening move of an interrogation designed to feel casual.
"Of course," Julian said, and gestured toward the living room.
Webb settled onto the couch like he'd been there a dozen times. Sipped his coffee. Seemed completely at ease.
