Mark and Eric sat in a wooden booth with corners that had already begun to peel. They disguised themselves as ordinary customers behind the aroma of cheap coffee and toasted bread. This was the place, the exact coordinates from the recording he had found in Jackson's mouth.
On the table, two plates of steaming American breakfast had just been served, but Mark's focus was not on the food.
A waitress with an apron slightly stained by sauce was about to turn away when Mark reached into his jacket pocket.
"Sorry, may I ask you something?" Mark's voice was low.
The waitress stopped, turning her body with one hand holding a plastic tray against her hip.
"Yes, sir? Is there something I can help you with?" she replied with the friendly tone typical of a worker always ready to serve.
Mark turned on his phone screen, showing a photo he had studied a thousand times. "Do you recognize this girl? She is a customer at this restaurant."
The waitress's eyes narrowed as she leaned in slightly to observe the screen. Mark held his breath. He watched every movement of her pupils, looking for signs of fear or forced recognition.
"Oh." The waitress let out a long breath, tilting her head to the side. "I am sorry, sir. I only recognize the face. Yes, she eats here quite often, but we have so many customers that we do not really know them personally."
There was a brief silence where Mark tried to find a gap of deception behind the woman's tired eyes, but he found only sincere honesty. A pulse of disappointment throbbed in Mark's chest, but he quickly withdrew his phone.
"Oh, okay. I understand," Mark said. He forced a friendly smile, the kind of smile that did not reach his eyes but was enough to make a stranger feel safe. "Thank you very much."
"You are welcome, sir. If there is nothing else you need, I will excuse myself," the waitress said with a brief, polite nod before turning away. Her footsteps faded behind the swinging door leading to the kitchen.
As soon as she disappeared, the fake friendliness on Mark's face vanished instantly. His sharp gaze began to scan every inch of the room. His eyes moved methodically, checking the yellowing ceiling, the CCTV cameras, and the tightly closed back door. He was looking for anything unusual that he could use as a clue.
Mark leaned toward the table, lowering his voice, but every word was heavy with undeniable authority.
"Eric," he called out without shifting his gaze from the corner of the room.
"Order your men to check this place. I want every document regarding this restaurant on my desk. I want to know who the real owner is, the legality of the business, even trivial records like their grocery lists."
Mark paused for a moment, his fingers tapping the surface of the table in a demanding rhythm. "Do not miss a single employee who works here. I want to know who they meet when their shift ends."
Eric, who had been observing Mark's reaction closely, gave a single nod with a serious expression. He immediately reached for his communication device under the table.
"Understood," Eric replied shortly, his voice steady. "My team will move immediately."
***
Inside a dim office, Fabio sat upright behind his large desk. His fingers, adorned with a silver signet ring, flipped through the pile of files he had looted from Jackson's room.
Every sheet of paper was a threat. He needed to confirm how much Jackson Sterling had uncovered about his secret organization before death claimed the old man.
"The old man was apparently much cleverer than I suspected," Fabio muttered. His voice was low, vibrating with a suppressed tone of hatred. He threw a document onto the desk, causing its contents to scatter.
"He already knew that Arnold Hein, the restaurant owner and his daughter's boyfriend, was me. That was the reason Jackson suddenly pressured Leah to arrange a meeting between us."
Fabio leaned back, imagining the face of the unfortunate Jackson Sterling, Leah's father, who had met his end at Fabio's own hands.
Martin, who stood stiffly in the corner of the room like a shadow, immediately chimed in.
"The latest report from Nick, sir. It is confirmed that the two visitors disguised at the restaurant have not yet sniffed out your true identity as Fabio Casso. However," Martin paused his sentence, giving a warning look. "Regarding Arnold Hein as the restaurant owner and Leah's lover, it is only a matter of time. Within hours, their team will find that name on every legal document."
Hearing this, Fabio did not look panicked. Instead, his rigid facial muscles began to relax, replaced by a much more terrifying expression. He leaned his body toward the desk lamp, letting the yellow light highlight half of his cold face.
"I understand," Fabio said. His voice had now turned soft, almost like a soothing whisper.
"And I will give them a magnificent show. I will convince them that Arnold Hein is merely an innocent man who is anxious because he is searching for his girlfriend who suddenly disappeared." A cunning smile curled at the corner of Fabio's lips.
"Boss! Boss!"
The sound of the door slamming hard broke the silence of the office. One of Fabio's men fell face-first at the doorway, his breath coming in short gasps and his face as pale as a corpse. Cold sweat poured down his temples.
"Big Boss. Mr. Armando." The man tried to speak while his chest heaved for air. "He is on his way to the room. He is going to finish off Miss Leah right now!"
At that exact second, the composure on Fabio's face crumbled. His eyes widened in shock. The pen in his hand slipped away, falling to the floor without him noticing.
Without a single word, Fabio lunged from his seat so forcefully that the heavy chair was pushed back and fell with a thud.
Fabio charged forward, knocking past his subordinate who was still kneeling on the floor, and ran like lightning through the hallway toward Leah's room.