"The numbers did not match from the last file you have sent me. Are you sure this was what she had planned?" Harold frowned as he read the file in detail.
He was sitting in a cheap tavern where he would have never stepped if not for secrecy. He did not care how clandestine it looked to meet a young woman in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere.
Hazel was no better. She had covered her face with an oversized cloak that hid half of her face with only her lips and her chin visible. As long as a person did not bend in front of her, they would not be able to see her face. Yet, she felt a strange itch on her skin every time she inhaled. The strong stench of alcohol was making her nauseated.
"I am sure. I have seen her writing the numbers myself. You would have to make sure that it belongs to the same project." her voice was cold and full of resentment that his eyes narrowed and he flipped the parchment again.