“You know what I mean.” The stain of a blush heats my face.
“There aren’t many spots for ships to make land around Harrison. We’re watching all the workable areas.” He sounds confident and yet detached. I’m guessing this part of the operation doesn’t fall under his remit.
Still, they’re missing the obvious. “Are you watching the businesses? Like the water company vans that run out of the Vale?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” Just like I thought. They’re too confident. Too clean.
“There’s a lot of activity at the water treatment plant on the southeast side of the Vale. At least twice a month they run trucks out of there.”
“That’s normal activity for…”
“Like forty trucks twice a month. What water company needs forty sixteen-wheeler trucks for a city the size of Harrison? It is a city-operated service at that. It’s obvious what they’re up to. Everyone in the Vale knows, or at least suspects. We also know to keep our eyes and mouths shut about it.”
Aiden looks at me as though I’ve grown a third nostril. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Nope. Then you also have to assume the hydroelectric station, the prison, and whatever else lines the waterfront are also involved or could potentially become involved. They might not get their ships to harbour but they can get speedboats and trawlers to drag in submerged troves. Actually, doesn’t the prison have an old waterwaysystem? They used to bring the prisoners in via boats back when it was first built.”
“How the hell do you know all this?”
“History books?”
“How do you know the comings and goings that even we haven’t considered?”
“The Vale isn’t just a place where we hunker down to rot. There are lots of people willing to do anything to make a living. That kind of work is readily available. If you want to see what is happening in Harrison, you need to tag the kids. The more desperate they are to get out of the shit, the darker the deeds they’re willing to commit,” I tell him. “Ironic really, because the deeper in the shit you are, the less likely you are to get out alive.”
“I need to talk to Rutledge.” Aiden stops walking and pulls out his phone.
“I can head back to the apartment…”
“No, I’ll have him meet us. We’re here for a reason.”
“Which is?”
“The outlet.” Aiden speaks to me but keeps tapping at his phone.
“Outlet?”
A chime echoes. He takes a second to read the message and then types his reply as he explains. “Our guys and girls don’t often get the opportunity to take time off for shopping and ordinary things. So UACT supplies them via the outlet.” He tucks his phone away and laughs at whatever expression I’m making. “There are some really nice items; it’s not all combat pants and camouflage.”
Yep, he pretty much nailed what I was thinking. “Huh.”
“I just figured you might want a wider selection to choose from.”
Actually, if it is more like a department store than a fancy boutique, it’ll be perfect for what I need. “Sounds good. Show me the way.”
He lifts his hand and sweeps it in an arc toward the building we’re standing in front of, and by building, I mean a storage warehouse. No windows. No signage. Nothing indicating what it is or might be.
“Ta da!”
“A warehouse?”
“Think of it like a giant outlet store.” There’s no other way to think of it, when we walk in and are confronted by a huge desk and six serpentine rows of rails and shelves. This place has everything. Clothing, shoes, bags, electronics, home goods, outdoor goods, and that’s just what I can see. The place is so vast that half of it vanishes behind a horizon line of toiletries.
“Morning, Sir,” an eager voice calls out, pulling my attention from the rails and to the desk. A young woman smiles shyly at Aiden. Above the desk hangs the checkout sign, but I only see one till. For a place this big, they have only one till?
Aiden grins. “Lafferty! How long have you been on Target practice?”
“Target Practice?” I whisper.
