As we exited the office, I handed my left earbud to Luanda. Thankfully, the hallway was empty and we made it quickly to the back stairway. I inserted the right earbud and, as we descended the bare metal stairs in the unpainted concrete fire stairwell, I slowed to activate the SIP phone and connect to the shared voice call.

  There was a beep as we joined the conference, and Luanda immediately announced us onto the channel. “All stations, this is Minnow joining voice comms with Sabot, over.”

  “All stations, this is Griss, I’m designating Whisper as control. Whisper, since you are the only one not actively engaged, please manage communications. Keep clear comms as much as possible; We are on plan Bravo, over.”

  Whisper reported back cheekily, “Aye aye, Captain.” I could hear Griss fuming in the brief silence.

  Then Whisper’s tone grew more measured. “Sorry, I’m on it. All stations, this is Whisper. I am now Control. Report positions, over.”

  “Whisper, this is Minnow. We are in the back stairwell, fifteen seconds to the fire exit, over.”

  Whisper’s shift from joking Australian to using formal prowords felt odd, and I wondered if he was faking it like me.

  Koko was still five minutes away from the rendezvous site, which was near the area where the police were setting up the perimeter with the new cordon. She was going to stay there and be ready to assist if needed.

  Griss was already on his way to us. We had about three minutes before he would pull up to the back side of the building.

  The next hurdle was the fire exit. Some of these were easy to bypass with what we had; others would require picking a lock, and still others would be nearly impossible.

  As we approached the base of the stairwell, we slowed down and pushed against the right-hand wall to decrease our visibility on the security camera. The cold concrete against my back, the bare steel railings, and the faint smell of cigarettes all had an institutional feel, unpleasantly familiar—the kinds of places I kept leaving Mom in.

  Sliding along the wall, I just hoped the low-rent office building hadn’t sprung for live video monitoring. It was a roll of the dice. If security monitored these cameras, they would be getting extra attention during the police alert. The best we could do was to minimize our visibility, so we flattened ourselves to the wall as we shuffled directly under the camera and to the edge of the door.

  We had brought tape for a plunger-based alarm, but this was just a push bar with a wafer lock that a six-year-old with a screwdriver could easily pick. Luanda slid a tension wrench into the wafer lock and raked it open in seconds, turning the switch to “OFF” before I could even communicate with the team.

  I went on comms, “We’re at the exit. The alarm is bypassed, so we’re sticking with plan Bravo.”

  “At Fourth and Whitcomb, one minute out,” Griss updated.

  We hovered outside of the camera’s view, and when Griss announced he was about to pull up, Luanda started removing her clothes. I hadn’t expected it, but it was smart—every second counted. Getting dressed the moment Griss arrived would save time and limit our exposure to the cameras. I stripped down quickly, bracing myself for whatever came next.

  We listened, hearts in our throats, as the other team members called out their positions. When Griss pulled up, we stepped into view of the camera and pushed the fire door open.

  Griss was worn but in a good way: a six-foot-two, slightly greying mass of lean muscle with tanned skin, who looked like he was the body model for making GI Joe toys. In his hands were two large brown paper bags, each with a sweeping logo I didn’t recognize. We each got one.

  “Shoes and accessories are in the car, get the basics on and let's move.” His voice echoed weirdly, first in person and then a moment later in our headsets. He scanned me standing there in my underwear next to Luanda, and the look on his face made me feel small, like a kid getting scolded.

  The high-end gray wool suit pants fit surprisingly well. I hastily buttoned them and tugged on the undershirt and then the first arm of the white silk dress shirt before heading out the fire door.

  The pushbar made a metallic thud as it opened. The smell of the light rain was a blessing to my nose after the uncomfortable cigarette smells of the stairwell. The feeling of concrete and then asphalt under my feet as I ran felt like freedom.

  Luanda was out right after me. I heard Griss encouraging, “Move it, Minnow,” as I climbed into the far side of the large black SUV. Luanda piled in on the other side a second later, her white sleeveless blouse mostly unbuttoned, revealing that she had somehow changed her bra unnoticed. Last came Griss, his grim expression not at all comforting.

  The SUV was already running, and rather than backing out, he drove it up onto the sidewalk and around a tree, exiting down into an adjacent but unconnected parking lot.

  Luanda and I finished dressing quietly as Griss drove. I had a gray suit coat with a green and black flag pin, along with a silk tie in matching colors. Thankfully, it was already tied and ready to go around my neck because I had no idea how to tie one. The brown and black dress shoes were a bit uncomfortable, but overall, it was the nicest set of clothing I had ever worn or seen in person.

  I heard Luanda say, “How the hell do you even get this thing on?” She had already donned a flowing, green and black kaftan with a distinctly African pattern and was struggling to get her hair into a matching green headwrap. She kept working at it, and after a minute, she managed to get it looking surprisingly elegant.

  Just as we started to pull out of the parking lot, I had a painful stab of warning and called out loudly, “Stop!”

  The brakes hit hard, activating the antilocks for a single clunk before we slammed to a halt. Just as we did, a teenage boy in a blue raincoat flew through the intersection on his bike, not more than a foot from where we were about to exit at twenty-five miles an hour. I let out a shaky exhale at the close call.

  The near miss drew a scowl from Griss and wide eyes from Luanda, who reached over and tapped me on the temple. “Good eyes, psychic boy,” she said.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  This stupid hack put so many people at risk: Luanda, Griss, Koko, and even that kid on his bike. I shelved it with all the other emotional baggage filed away in my now throbbing head.

  As we turned onto Sixth, traffic was almost at a standstill. Police were setting up barricades on side streets ahead of us, with a car pulling into each intersection.

  Griss alerted the team, “All stations, this is Griss. The cordon has already formed, and we are inside. Repeat inside the cordon. We’re on Sixth now, two blocks from the edge. I see two police cars searching vehicles and pedestrians. Koko, are you available for Maximum Distraction, like in Boston?”

  Koko responded, “I’m parked on Elm. They are routing all traffic right onto Sixth at that intersection. Four uniforms present. I’m a go for Maximum Distraction. I need exact timings. I estimate ten to fifteen seconds for the full execution. Call out my go. “

  I was confused and just asked, “What the fuck is Maximum Distraction?”

  Griss answered, “It’s something she and I used in another operation. She will be deliberately rolling her car. Koko, keep it safe. Don’t overdo it, ok?”

  Koko answered, “Aww, I love you too. Trust me, babe. Rolling cars is second nature to me.”

  Griss growled back, “Keep everyone else safe, too. I don’t want a dead innocent passerby.”

  “Copy that, big boy. Mama needed a new car anyway!” Koko’s excited voice replied.

  Luanda whispered, “She’s totally insane.”

  Griss cut her off. “Here’s the plan, Minnow. You two are just my innocent Uber passengers. I’ll let you out on the left, then you walk directly toward the police line. We will time it so Koko crashes a bit before you arrive. Then I’ll play my part. You two keep walking. You’ll be on your own after that. Go to Safe House Charlie. The entry code is in your purse. It’s about a click almost straight ahead. With any luck, you will be able to walk right through. If not… well, let’s just hope you make it through.”

  My heart pounded like a drum as we approached. I looked over at Luanda, and she seemed almost regal. I wondered if I was supposed to be her friend, bodyguard, partner, or maybe just her sidekick. I felt like I was out of my element, and she had an expression like it was just another Wednesday.

  We were a block away, and Griss pulled slowly to the side. I grabbed the umbrella Griss had given us, took out my phone, typing on it as if I were paying him, and climbed out. As we exited, he said, “Stay safe, Minnow.”

  I opened the umbrella and kept it over her as she got out. She put a large green and black tote that Griss had provided over her shoulder, took my arm, and we sheltered under the umbrella as we walked directly into certain capture. She whispered, “You’re too damn calm for this. I hope that Psychic shit is for real because we need every edge we can get.”

  As we walked, I panicked when a sharp forehead pain hit me, but as I slowed down, trying to figure out what to do, it disappeared. I took that as a sign to walk slowly. I wondered if going too fast would draw attention or something.

  Our headsets blared with Griss’s most commanding tone. “Go Koko, go now.”

  Ten seconds later, her silver Land Cruiser appeared, moving at moderate speed. The Land Cruiser swerved sharply, tires screeching, then overcorrected and flipped, metal crunching as it rolled once, twice, before slamming back onto its wheels, glass shattering across the asphalt. The sheer spectacle made me stop, but Luanda’s tug made me move again.

  Two seconds after the Land Cruiser crashed, Griss's SUV pulled slightly up onto the curb and accelerated towards the police barricade. A female uniformed officer got in the middle of the open lane, holding up a hand while drawing her gun from its holster. Griss slammed on the brakes and rushed out of the car, leaving the door open, obscuring the angle from the police to us. He shouted in a believably panicked tone, “That’s my girlfriend’s car. I need to get to her.”

  He tried to run around the police, but another officer immediately joined the female officer, corralling him. Griss was too strong and pushed through anyway, forcing them to chase him as he ran towards Koko’s vehicle.

  At that exact moment, we arrived at the corner. Several other pedestrians were watching, and one was even filming it with his phone, but the two of us casually strolled across the street and kept walking.

  Sirens wailed behind us, but we kept walking like it was any other rainy afternoon. At the end of the block, we turned the corner, slipping out of the immediate line of sight, and a two-hundred-pound weight lifted off my chest. Luanda’s grip on my arm eased, the soft thrum of rain on the umbrella growing louder in the quiet. Her face still held worry—and now, a trace of weariness. So much had happened in so little time, and she was feeling it.

  My mind was replaying the actions of the last few minutes when Luanda’s voice surprised me. “Whisper, this is Minnow. Any information would be great. We’re just off Sixth heading down Chestnut, over.” The cadence reminded me we were not out of the woods yet. We had a kilometer to go on foot to reach the safe house, and who knew how safe that would be?

  “Minnow, this is Whisper. Seems like it’s just the three of us again. Glad to hear you made it. I almost blew a gasket waiting. Did she really just roll a car on purpose?” Whisper’s voice was a bright star in the gloom.

  I answered, “She rolled it completely over. It was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen. I definitely owe her, who does that for someone?” I wasn’t even sure if she was okay—there was no way to check.

  Luanda shrugged noncommittally. “She’s a good driver. That’s for sure.” I could feel her hand shaking slightly on my arm.

  The pause lingered, then she said softly, “I hope she’s ok.”

  “The crash has the whole dispatch board lit up. A bunch of units are on the way, ambulance too. Seems like Maximum Distraction was a banger. Right. A Banger? Ahh, too soon.” Whisper seemed to be deliberately trying to lighten the mood.

  I pulled the umbrella close over our heads, and we kept to smaller streets. We stayed in character, never speeding up unnecessarily, and the short hike was uneventful despite Whisper’s continuous updates on the chaos unfolding behind us.

  “Safe House Charlie” was a modest townhome with a lockbox that we actually had the number for. The entry smelled of lavender, and there was a basket with rolls, tiny jam jars, and a bag of microwave popcorn. It had the word “Welcome” written in flowing script on a little sign stuck in the basket. The room felt like the kind of warm and inviting home I had never known.

  Who needed secret spy hideouts when you could just rent an instant book on Airbnb? Griss and Koko had done a fantastic job with so little time to spare.

  Luanda sank into a chair, her hands clenching briefly before relaxing. “Griss better be okay,” she muttered, her voice softer than I’d heard, eyes flicking to the door like she expected trouble.

  Life was never fair, but that didn’t excuse me for dragging so many into my mess. Koko could be injured, and Griss would likely spend the rest of the day, at least, in police custody. For all I knew, the police would kick down the door and all four of us would pay for other people’s crimes. Too many people were paying too much for my mistakes.

  I felt like I had thrown a rock into a pond, but instead of a ripple coming back, I got a tidal wave. There was no world where this was about the cash I swiped. Bertrand, Levin, and Hoyle must have dropped several times my take on Meridian for hackers and muscle. Nick and Jacob weren’t private detectives doing a job or mercenaries with a code like Griss and Sophia. They were trained monsters, hired because the law firm wanted monsters.

  I took Lisa’s friendship bracelet out of my wallet and carefully put it back on. The thread that held it closed had broken years ago, but I had repaired it. However odd it looked next to my white silk sleeve, it grounded me.

  My visions from earlier left a lingering throb, a nagging reminder my ‘psychic shit’ was no sure thing. It had saved that kid, but it couldn’t map the full storm ahead. All I could do was shield the people caught in its immediate path.

  The shit tornado I’d stirred up—whatever dirty deals Bertrand, Levin, and Hoyle were hiding—was going to keep spinning, and if I didn’t stop it, more innocents would get sucked in. Luanda, Griss, Sophia, and I all had people we cared about, and to monsters, these people just looked like leverage.

  I had to stop them, and I had to do it soon.