Windstone didn't alter his pace. The soft click of his polished shoes on pavement became his metronome as he moved through the capital's business district. Morning traffic hummed around him; scooters buzzed past, delivery vans idled at red lights, and the smell of espresso drifted from narrow cafés already full of office workers. But under it all, he could still pick out the second set of footsteps.
Whoever was following him was either new to the field or as stupid as a brick, having never done his homework on Windstone.
He turned casually into a quieter side street lined with boutique offices and shuttered shopfronts. The sound of cars dulled to a hum behind him. Glass towers rose above on either side, their mirrored panes catching slices of pale sunlight. Windstone adjusted his cufflinks, a small, neat movement, and kept walking.
