Which meant if we tugged the wrong thread, he’d alert Sarmiento’s people before we got anywhere close to them.
We needed to isolate him. Quietly. And we needed access.
I scanned the pier again, camera raised like I was framing a shot of the cranes.
“Control room’s on the upper deck of the admin building,” I murmured. “North side. Restricted but nothing we can’t walk through with the right stride.”
Lunchbox hummed under his breath, the sound of a man who’d already mapped three ways in and four ways out. “We splitting?”
Maybe. Probably. I didn’t love it, but Alphabet’s flash drive wasn’t a suggestion—it was our best chance at seeing what containers were incoming, outgoing, mislabeled, hidden, or straight-up ghost entries. The port tracked everything. Or at least pretended to. It had to in order to hide the ones they wanted hidden in the first place. If Sarmiento was using a pipeline through here, there’d be digital scars. We just needed a vein to tap.
Bones didn’t look my way, but I felt him thinking, weighing, grinding through the risk factors like teeth on stone.
Grace glanced at him first then at me, barely a tilt of her chin. “What’s the play?”
I bumped the camera bag higher against my shoulder. “Two options,” I said quietly, locking gazes with Bones briefly. “Option A, we keep moving as a group and hope Spotter Man getsbored. Downside? We lose the window to slip into admin before security rotation resets.”
Lunchbox snorted softly. “And Option B?”
“Option B,” I said, “I peel off, hook into the control room, run AB’s drive, and walk out before anyone realizes the system hiccuped.”
Grace stared. “Alone?”
“Not alone,” Bones said, nodding once before he turned and scanned the area like he was trying to decide what to do. “Shadowed.”
In other words, he’d trail at a distance, invisible backup. Good. Necessary. But Grace didn’t look convinced.
I kept my voice low. “The control room’s small. One or two operators. If I walk in looking like a bored photographer who got lost, I can plant Alphabet’s drive in under ninety seconds.”
“And if the wrong person is in there?” Grace asked. Honestly, there was a fist of pride in my chest for how swiftly she had taken to analyzing even the most moderate of action plans.
“Then I’ll improvise something humiliating,” I said. “Nothing gets you out of a tight spot like embarrassing yourself convincingly.”
Lunchbox coughed a laugh. Bones didn’t.
Alphabet piped up, “Timing is ideal now. You’ve got a four-minute window before the next guard runs his dock loop. There’s a back stairwell they don’t monitor. If Voodoo moves, he should move now.”
Wind rattled the boardwalk railing. The spotter was still watching us from behind the fake cigarette, pretending he wasn’t.
Bones’ jaw flexed. “Lunchbox, keep Grace in the crowd. Don’t let her out of sight.”
Lunchbox gave a lazy salute with his iced coffee. “Babysitting mode engaged.”
Grace rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I saw the tension in her throat, the tight hold she had on Goblin’s vest strap. Not even a murmur of protest that she didn’t need a guard or that she would buck the plans. Still…
I leaned in just enough for her to hear me. “He’s a spotter, not a hitter. If he makes a move, Bones will be on him before he takes a second breath.”
She didn’t smile, but some of the fear shifted, compressed into something sharper.
Resolve.
“Go,” she whispered. Her confidence stormed through me and bolstered my own. The lady had given me the order so… I went.
I pivoted away from the group, camera swinging, posture loose. Tourist on a day trip. Took a few meaningless photos of cranes, water, the sky. Then I drifted toward the north side of the promenade, slipping between two families arguing about clam chowder.
Bones split off behind me, far enough to look like we weren’t together anymore. Close enough that if I vanished behind a cargo hauler he’d rip the world in half to find me.
Alphabet’s voice guided me. “Straight ahead, Voodoo. Past the blue information kiosk. The stairwell door is tucked behind the vending machine. No camera on the hinge side.”
