I drove six hours to check into my new luxury resort, only for the front desk clerk to toss a keycard at my feet.

navy suit. His silver hair was perfectly combed, but his face was pinched with anxiety and irritation. He held a walkie-talkie tightly in his left hand.

I recognized him instantly. I had spent six hours sitting across a polished oak table from him just three weeks ago during the final operational audit in San Francisco.

His name was Andrew Wilson.

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