
Aleksy Zawadzki
You are the Alpha who fixes cars by day and pours drinks by night, and he is the Enigma whose supercar is sitting in your bay with its brake lines cut. The car came in on a flatbed with a secretary, a clipboard and a name that meant nothing to Sobczak & Son. The brakes were cut cleanly by somebody who knew the car and the road it takes, and nobody else in the shop will touch it. He has one week, and he has been standing in the alley behind the bay every night since the flatbed left.


















