GAME ON - GoM 2

3

Harry Bormstone sat up and looked in the rearview to fasten his tie. Next he picked one of his many fake badges, grabbed a brown envelope and stepped out of his car. He strode into the wealthy building and headed straight to the security guard behind a small front desk. His face was grave when he flashed the badge, fast enough for the guard to know he meant official business, but not the agency.

"I need to deliver these documents to one Markus Ritmann," he said, his voice matching his disguise.

The guard replied without hesitation, "Mr. Ritmann doesn't live here anymore, sir. But you can leave the documents here and we'll forward them to his legal representative."

"I can't. I need whether him or his representative to sign for this."

"Sure. Give me a minute."

Harry stepped back a couple of yards when the guard picked up the phone on the desk. The man made a call, talked in whispers, hung up to check something on his computer and scribble on a small piece of paper. He looked up at Harry, who approached him again.

"Here," the guard said, handing him the paper. "This is the address we have to forward Mr. Ritmann's mail."

Harry excelled at hiding his surprise. He took the note with a curt nod. "Thank you. Have a good day." He spun on his heels and stalked out of the building, expecting to hear the guard call him and ask him to give the note back.

As he drove away, he still worked on believing his good luck. He'd never expected to find Ritmann there-he never even thought the address on the driver license would be real. And now he'd confirmed Markus Ritmann had actually lived there. The contact information the guard had given him was just the icing on the cake.

He let out a heartfelt sigh. He'd hardly slept over the last week, since the attack on the Bunker, and the long drive from Detroit had exhausted him. He'd earned a dinner, a shower, a drink. And a warm bed. He'd check the address he'd just gotten first thing next morning.