The heavy wooden door of the dockyard warehouse rumbled open, allowing a narrow rectangle of moonlight to enter. Mac’s deliberate footsteps crossed the dirty cement floor to the arranged meeting place where Simone waited. Despite the solitude of the warehouse, neither one dared strike a light to see each other.

“You take care of him?” Simone asked.

“Just like you wanted.” Mac shoved a sack towards Simon’s waiting hands. “Proof’s in the bag. What you want it for, anyway?”

“That’s my business.” Simone slipped a fat envelope out of an inner pocket of her coat, exchanging the smooth paper of the envelope for the coarse canvas of the sack.

“Right. Still, I’d chuck that bag off the pier if I were you.” Mac turned to leave, his footsteps more hurried than before. “You know how to reach me if you need my services again.”

Simone smiled in the darkness, a sinful smile only she and God would ever know about. Yes, she knew how to contact Mac again, just as she knew Mac would come to wish that she didn’t.