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The address didn't belong to some fancy law firm, like Harry thought, but to a real estate company. A pretty blonde girl nailed a smile to her face in order to greet him at the front desk and hear his question. Her answer didn't come as a surprise.

"I'm sorry, but the person you're looking for doesn't work in our HQ anymore."

"But he still works for your firm."

"Oh, yes. He's one of our freelance agents."

"Can I have his contact information?"

It was only natural that the girl would excuse herself, whisper something on the phone and ask him to wait. However, the suit in charge to get rid of him only took five minutes to walk out of the elevator.

Harry didn't smile back at the man when they shook hands. Facing a broker instead of a lawyer made things easier. So he flashed his badge once more and kept his voice low and serious as a heart attack.

"I'm here to deliver due notification that if Mr. Ritmann doesn't get in touch within forty-eight hours, his deal with the FBI is off. Which means that whoever receives this document will be considered Mr. Ritmann's direct associate, therefore of interest in our case."

It worked. Another five minutes and Harry was back on the street with a name and an address. And considering the suit's fright, it might not turn out a dead end.

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