“Circumstantial,” Slater said, shouldering his bag. “I was in Lerwick for a conference. I have twenty witnesses.”

Perez looked out at the dark water. “Slater was a cleaner. A fixer. The men who hired him are still out there. They’re on a boat right now, probably, watching us through a scope.”

Perez left the farmhouse with a name: Helen Vik, née Cairns, now living in Bergen. And a single photo Connor had kept in his wallet—a Polaroid of his mother standing next to a man in a Solus Marine jacket.