The penthouse conference room on the second floor of Hotel Sirintra had been swept for bugs three times in an hour. The entire floor was cleared. There was no staff, and the CCTV cameras had all been deactivated. The entire environment was quiet, and there was the unspoken understanding that the most dangerous men in the north were about to sit down face-to-face.

The kind of meeting that only happened once every few years. If ever.

Mr. Charlie arrived first, wearing a sharp suit, a slick cane, ...