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I’m going to see a man named North on a decrepit floating casino. He knows who I am by reputation but not by face. If he suspects why I’m here, I won’t ever make it onto the boat—another corpse bobbing against the hull until the fish pick me to bones. Not that I intend to leave here alive. Before I approach the gangway, I press my hand to my stomach, checking for the tiny device Sutter gave me that’s now jammed into my navel. It’s still there, only visible if I pull my shirt taut. “This is my favorite spot,”