I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“He sounded strange,” Derek observed, looking out the passenger window.

“He didn’t sound angry, just cautious.”

“Marcus is never cautious unless there is money at risk,” I said.

We drove in silence for the next thirty minutes.

The afternoon sun began to sink, casting long shadows across the bay.

We pulled up to the restaurant, a small seafood spot near the Embarcadero.

It was a favorite of our engineering team, loud and unpretentious.

The smell of garlic and fried calamari drifted out of the open doors.

I parked the car in a metered space two blocks away.

The cool bay breeze hit us as we stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Ready?” Derek asked.

“Ready,” I said.

We walked into the restaurant.

The noise of clinking glasses and laughter washed over us.

Near the back, I saw our team from Solar Reach.

Sam, our head of engineering, was raising a pint of beer, laughing at something another engineer had said.

But Marcus was sitting at a small table near the window, away from the main group.