When I returned to the hotel, I looked closer at what Park had set me up with. The gun was exactly what I expected; it had “Glock” written on the handle. I went online and discovered that it was a fifth-generation Glock 19. It was also a right-handed gun, which was an oversight on my part. Still, after watching some YouTube videos, I got pretty proficient with the basics, or at least as much as I could without actually firing it.

  The shoulder holster he had thrown in was useless for the same reason, so I decided to keep the Glock in the driver's side door instead.

  The bulletproof vest was bulkier than I had imagined. It was completely adjustable, but it was obvious I had it on. Fortunately, I had an oversized hoodie I used when I wanted to keep my face out of cameras, which helped cover the vest pretty well.

  I spent some time reviewing everything BlueWhisper sent that evening. It matched what he had said previously. They kept her in interrogation until it was too te for a bail hearing and then took her to King County Correctional Facility for the night. She made her first phone call right after she arrived at KCCF to an unknown cell number. I told him not to waste time gathering information about her and instead to focus on Nick and his group.

  BlueWhisper was a genius at accessing police internal communications; this was his primary focus as a hacker. Despite his skills, he couldn’t access all the police departments. For instance, in the greater Seattle area, he had deep hooks inside the Seattle Police Department (SPD) and King County but had almost nothing on the state police. It varied a lot. It likely depended on the specific systems each department purchased to manage their work. This was common for some hackers. They would specialize in vulnerabilities in specific software packages or even the supply chains that deliver software or hardware.

  For what I needed this time, he was ideal. The Seattle Police Department (SPD) was the responding department for the shooting and covered the Queen Anne area. With access to those systems, he could monitor when Luanda was picked up and track any police presence at the locations they might take her. If I was lucky, BlueWhisper could track the police car used to pick her up. For now, I had him watching for any transfer orders.

  I struggled to fall asleep. The gun stirred memories I’d buried, and my racing mind dreaded what tomorrow held—or another precognitive fsh in my sleep. Nonetheless, I eventually drifted off, and my sleep was deep and dreamless.

  I got up early and visited multiple ATMs to withdraw cash. I needed another 10,000, so it took me a few attempts. Fortunately, I had several accounts with small amounts of money, which made it possible to get what I needed. Eventually, I bundled the 30,000 into three stacks of 10,000 each, secured them with rubber bands, and pced them in the console between the seats.

  I opened one of my burner phones and loaded my standard apps, including Session. I discussed my pns with BlueWhisper and ensured he was ready to communicate via the new account. He had an update for me almost immediately: Luanda was scheduled for a bail hearing at 3:00 PM that afternoon. The fact that she had a privately hired wyer suggested that her parents had some money. If my premonition about the transfer were accurate, the transfer would need to happen before then.

  My next task, which I was most worried about, was to pick up my protection. It was just after ten, and I was starting to feel nervous when Park contacted me with the location to meet my crew.

  David Park: Your three heavies will arrive at the SODO station in fifteen minutes. A tire store on Sixth is right near the station, and they’ll hang out for you there. The head man is Rook, but I don’t know the other two. Just work through him. Have the upfront ready. They’re Norte?os from out of the city.

  Me: I thought you had guys from a local crew.

  David Park: If it's gonna go down, I wanted an outside crew. So locals can’t recognize them. The Mercer Crew didn’t have the weight anyway.

  Me: Isn’t most of Seattle Surenos territory?

  David Park: Plenty is, sure, but they aint got shit around Queene Anne, mostly Vietnamese crews and some isnder crips in that area. I warned off a couple of locals to find other pces to be. Better for it to be outside guys, if it’s gonna go hot.

  I wasn’t sure about his logic, but I was out of my depth and had no other options. In a moment of introspection, I decided to take off Lisa’s bracelet, so I tucked it into my wallet. The kid who got that bracelet wasn’t the hard-ass I needed to be right then, but its absence left a hollow ache.

  When I entered the shop, the sharp smell of weed hit me, mingling with the distinctive smell of new tires. The man behind the counter was smoking a joint and talking to three people who were clearly the ones I was there to meet. None were especially tall; the tallest was about five feet ten, and the shortest was only five feet five. They all appeared Hispanic and were in their te twenties or early thirties. Each wore a hoodie, but none had the hoods up. Their clothes looked new and fit well, and they were sporting retively new Nike sneakers, each with spshes of red.

  The tallest man had heavy tattoos visible on his neck and the left side of his face, including a prominent Roman numeral XIV tattooed on his neck. His hair was short, and he wore a 49ers beanie. The shortest one was Rook. He had a prominent tattoo of a rook on the back of his right hand and sported short hair. His eyes followed me as I walked in, but his posture was rexed. Far more rexed than I felt. The st guy had no visible tattoos and had a goatee with a buzz cut. He kept his hands in his pockets and gazed disinterestedly at me.

  Looking at the shorter man, I nodded and said, “You Rook?”

  He raised his chin, his expression bnk, and replied, “I am, and you are?” The ck of an accent and the almost formal response surprised me a little. When I was younger, I had known plenty of gang members, and he looked the part, but the tone was smooth business.

  “I’m Sabot. Park said to meet you here.”

  He nodded slowly, slightly turning his head with a faint curl of his lips and half-closed eyes. “'Say-bow,” he said, clearly enunciating each sylble of my handle. “Like they use in artillery?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  He smiled, not showing his teeth. “They use those to make sure a round comes out straight.” He nodded to himself contemptively. “Yes, that makes sense. You’re the one who directs the bullet, but not the one who does the killing."

  He gestured over his shoulder at the rger, tattooed guy. "This is Beto, the best foosball pyer you will ever meet and the worst gambler." Then, he pointed to the st of the three. "And that’s Filero, whose girlfriend is the only one who can stand him."

  Filero gave a toothy smile as Rook called him out. He paused and looked at me with a questioning expression. "Do you have something for us?"

  I pointed over my shoulder at the SUV. “It’s in there.”

  After a moment, I realized Rook expected me to get it, so I walked over and grabbed the money from the console inside the SUV. I handed it to him, and he pulled a hundred-dolr bill from one of the bundles. He examined it in the light, ran his fingers across it, and then returned it, apparently satisfied it wasn’t counterfeit. Filero took the cash and started counting it.

  Rook pointed at the SUV. “Is that our ride?” I nodded in response.

  “Pretty nice. Is it yours?”

  “No, it’s a rental. I used a fake ID so we can dump it afterward.”

  Filero finished counting the money and handed it to the guy at the counter, who opened the cash register and slid it under the cash tray.

  Rook shook his head. “A rental’s no good. They hide trackers all over those bitches. If it goes to piss, cops will be on every corner.”

  He gnced at the guy behind the counter. “We’re gonna need something clean.”

  He looked back at me. “Give Mike your keys,” he said, gesturing at the man behind the counter, “he’ll strip it down in exchange for a clean ride.”

  I knew for a fact that people often used rental cars for drive-bys and other serious crimes, so it felt like a bit of bullshit, but I went along with it anyway. I returned to the SUV, grabbed my gun, and slipped it into the broad pocket of my hoodie. Then I returned and tossed my keys to Mike, who snatched them out of the air.

  Mike reached under the counter and handed a set of keys to Beto, who casually swung them around his finger. Mike said, “It’s the blue Accord. The owner won’t be back till the weekend.” His voice took on a mock tone of regret. “It’s a real shame how it got stolen right off the lot. I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

  My phone pinged twice while we talked, so I was anxious to get the updates. It was still early, but I honestly didn’t know when Jacob and Nick would get her out of the lockup.

  Rook gave me a stern look, and his tone hardened a bit. “I’m also gonna need you to give me that vest you’re wearing. I’m gonna be the one up front catching bullets, so it’s best if I wear it.”

  The car was one thing, but now he was straight-up bullying me. My tone got hard too, “Fuck you. Bring your own fucking vest. It’s probably too big for you anyway.” Behind him, Beto’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened. Filero smiled and put his hand to his mouth.

  Rook smiled and nodded, the hardness gone from his eyes, and he picked up a mild accent. “Ok, homes. It’s like that. I needed to see if there was any juice in those cojones. We’re all good, jefe.”

  I started out the door and called back, “Can one of you drive? I need to stay in contact with the guy I have tracking them.” The Accord was right there. It was nearly new and one of the most generic cars on the street, so it was a good choice.

  I heard the locks click open and got into the passenger seat. Beto took the driver’s seat while Filero sat behind me with Rook to his left.

  I told Beto where to go and opened my Session App. The first message I saw made my fists clench.

  BlueWhisper: I got a notice on Luanda. KCCF got a request for transfer from the Staties. Detective Jacob Wellington will be arriving to pick her up and transfer her to State custody for interrogation in an unreted murder investigation.

  BlueWhisper: I looked up this Wellington bloke. I can confirm he exists, but not much more. Everything in the transfer request looks above board.

  I didn’t have a lot of time. Luanda was in this mess because of me, and I couldn’t let her pay for my screw-up.