Day 1, Wednesday
Broderick, California: the streets were just a little rougher than he’d expected, and the houses just a touch too small; the bushes weren’t quite manicured and the cars not so flashy. Still, it was the eastern side of California and for that very reason alone it could not have been a more perfect place for the car to sit in Boyd’s opinion.
He’d left the map on the wall of his bedroom and bought himself a smaller, foldable version of similar design. With a red Sharpie, he’d carefully marked the pinned spots. It had been the last thing he tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket before he left the house.
The flight had been paid for, the taxes and transfers pre-arranged, and the money wired to the corresponding parties and ministries. There hadn’t been much left over,
