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End game.


Mick scowled at the drive that Graham had left him, and at the post that Graham had made to his blog, just before arriving at Mick's place.  The fucker hadn't even given him a heads up that he was posting about his visit, let alone anything else!  Mick would be very surprised if Graham was not arrested the moment that he set foot in the hospital again.

Hastily, Mick started shoving clothes and supplies into a duffel bag as he continued to curse Graham's name.  If he hadn't been paranoid enough to check up on Graham's online activities the moment that he left, Mick knew that he would have been picked up himself in very short order.

As it was, he closed his bag and, as soon as the copy he'd started of the drive had finished, he shoved it into one pocket, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the house.  He would drop the drive into the fountain in the city park as he went through.  That would give whoever was tracking the thing a bit of trouble, at least.  As long as he got there in one piece, of course.
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