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around at this hour? And why? Even more curious, Hahn’s SUV had stopped short of the gas pump island. Dressed in black tactical clothing, Hahn got out of the vehicle.
    Why didn’t he pull up to the pump? Toby wondered.
    Rather than reach for his wallet, Hahn pulled a small item from his coat pocket and approached the island. He pointed the object at the top of the pump for a few seconds, then tucked it back into his pocket. Toby quickly looked away and shrank back into the shadow of his gas pump. He was pretty sure he knew what Hahn had just done. The question was why.
    Toby leaned to the side to reacquire Hahn. At the same moment, as if sensing he was being watched, Hahn froze. Even though Toby stood more than a hundred yards distant behind a gas pump, he felt the man’s eyes penetrate the mist. A shiver raked his body. Was he blown? Had Hahn seen him?
    In desperation, Toby actually considered stepping out and offering a friendly wave, but Hahn got back into the SUV and pulled forward to the pump.
    Toby circled to the driver’s side of his white Sentra and got in.
    He grabbed a compact pair of field glasses from the glove box and sought out the object that Hahn had reached for earlier. As he’d suspected, a wad of shaving cream was plastered over the orb-shaped security camera overlooking the gas pump area. Given the secretive nature of the corporation Toby worked for, the shaving-cream gambit wasn’t totally out of character, but the circumstances didn’t seem to warrant such discretion. Something important was going down.
    Just drive to work and forget you ever saw this.
    But he knew he couldn’t. He had to know why Hahn impaired the security camera. Toby bargained with himself: He’d keep the surveillance going as long as it didn’t put him at risk of being late to work. He couldn’t afford any black marks on his employment record. Getting the BSI job had been a big accomplishment, but these days Toby had his sights set on the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department.
    Hahn finished pumping the gas and drove the SUV out of the gas station. In world-record time, Toby climbed out and returned the nozzle into its slot. Determined to learn more despite the risk, he turned his headlights off and followed the SUV. Since no one was around, he ran the red light and blew across Clairemont Mesa. Three hundred yards ahead, he saw the SUV make a left.
    Not toward BSI .
    Toby stomped on the gas, then braked hard at the corner where Hahn had disappeared. Farther ahead, he saw the taillights of the SUV just finishing a right turn. Toby left his headlights off and sped down the street. When he neared the spot where Hahn had turned, he clicked on his headlights. It was a driveway. Cruising past, Toby stole a quick look to the right. The SUV had stopped at the far end of a linear parking lot between two industrial buildings. Its brake lights were on, but as far as Toby could tell, its headlights were dark. Just before he lost sight of it, the driver’s door opened and Hahn stepped out. Toby kept going down the block until he found a parking spot at the curb behind a delivery van.
    He grabbed his field glasses and night-vision scope—items he used during his nightly BSI beat—and locked his car. If there were any security cameras mounted on the building to his left, he didn’t see them, and no lights were on inside. Cautiously, he approached the driveway, then stopped and took a quick look.
    The SUV was still there. As was Hahn.
    Is that a gun?
    He brought his field glasses up and focused on Hahn.
    Yes, it was definitely some kind of pistol, and it had a suppressor.
    Standing in front of the SUV, Hahn pointed the weapon at the parapet of the roof. Toby followed the man’s aim and saw a red laser dot sweep onto a security camera. A second later, the device shuddered and pieces of glass and plastic rained down. There was no sound at all. Not even a faint pop. He estimated the distance at just under one hundred yards. He