Enter: Jake Whittaker.

I had a headache.

For last 2 days I've been following an absolute bastard. From following him to work, to home, to his girlfriend, to his other girlfriend, taking fucking laundry to his mother, for goodness' sake, to the gym and, wait for it, to a tanning salon.

What the fuck? Why would there be a tanning salon in Colorado, I don't know. And who even goes to tanning salons in a land locked state?

Absolute bastards, that's who.

Said bastard being a disgruntled employee from a local pharmaceutical company, Healsy. There were many layoffs and salary cuts last year. The competition was tough, company was barely out of startup phase. Though the founder was old money, Hal Jameson. Jamesons, family of ranchers, animal feed suppliers and agricultural tools.

POI Name: Chad Bronski, 26. 5 foot 9 in., Caucasian male, blonde dyed hair, brown eyes and below average IQ.

Then again, he managed to steal company secrets. Maybe not so dumb.

I was in my work car, a grey, bland Honda Civic, following him from a distance. First time in 2 days he had broken his routine, and I had hopes that he would be meeting his contact to personally hand over whatever info he had stolen. He was heading out of town, following Left Pike road to Riveron town. Traffic was moderate considering this was tourist season. This road branched to highway 64.

It was smart, out of town meeting so no one will recognise him and minimal interruptions. Not likely his idea then.

The man who hired me was definitely a middleman. Couldn't really have espionage and illegal search on company name. He had come with a company dossier on Chad. It contained his personal info privy to Healsy, data from his work PC and phone. Which was alarming, privacy violation and what not. But I simply filed away that tidbit and focused on the job offer.

It was to track Chad's movements, profile and photograph the people he meets with. Possibly gain info of the contact. Report. Rest they would handle it.

How? I didn't ask.

Some might think it was a legally grey area to tread on and I agreed. I had enough contingencies in place to not get involved in truly unsavory business.

Taking a turn, we entered Riveron town. A sleepy town compared to Aspen Ridge, my hometown. Few commercial shops, diners, playgrounds and finally his car slowed a local cafe. He parked his car, got out and took a furitive look around. Then hurriedly entered the cafe.

I circled around the block, parked my car and then walked to the cafe. Entering, I casually looked around and focused on the counter. They had scones, biscuits, crossaints and donuts. I was suddenly hungry. I took a deep breath, it was warmer inside. Fresh smell of coffee and baked goods itself gave me a refresher.

Two potential exit points, stenciled window looking out to the street, low-E glass. 21 occupants including the barista and possibly 2 more in the back leading to one exit to the back side.

I casually walked to the barista, ordered a sweet capucciono and 3 scones. She smiled and readied my order. As my eyes swept towards the tables I found my guy. Along with another. Discussing in hushed whispers between the noisy din of the cafe.

The contact, a man, was sitting opposite to him. Both had cups of coffee in front of them.

Possibly in his late forties. Caucasian, brown hair, stubble on his face along with handlebar moustache. Not a groomer, this one. Wearing black slacks and white shirt, and a long overcoat on top. Strange, one would hang it on their chairs or remove it. It was warmer inside. Armed? Possibly.

"Order for one Jacob! Jacob?" Ah, the alias. I turned and thanked her. Went to a nearby table, leaned back in my seat. Removed the lid of cup and held it in my hands. The warmth a much needed comfort since 2 days of cold meals.

Chad was frantic in his behavior now. Brows furrowed, posture hunched and curled on himself. Feeling protective? Something valuable on his person maybe.

I sipped my coffee. It was pleasant, sweet as I ordered.

His contact made placating gesture. Leaned forward on the table and pointed at Chad's pockets. Said something in low voice to Chad.

I held my scone.

Chad frowned but nodded at the man then carefully and slowly placed a brown paperbag on the table. What?

The man tensed and quickly laughed. ****. And oh so casually shook his head and pocketed the bag in to his overcoat. Nothing suspicious here folks!

Is it? Could it be?

My gut clenched. I took a bite and smirked. Score.