Her workstation was tucked into a quiet corner, exactly where an underling belonged. She was assigned basic accounting work—budget tracking for minor programs and expense reports no one else wanted to handle.
She had to hand it to Dante and Elin. It was the perfect cover. She had no authority but plenty of access.
Opal worked steadily through the morning because no one talked to new hires, so she was left out of the watercooler chitchat.
At lunch, she took her brown paper bag outside and found a bench where she could watch the street without looking like she was watching.
The sandwich inside was plain—turkey, bread, nothing else. But she ate it slowly, remembering a time when a meal like this would have been a feast.
As she ate, she took in her surroundings. People coming and going, mothers holding the hands of small children.
Then she noticed the same guy two times…three times. Lingering near the corner. Once in a while, a passerby would stop. Their interaction was casual, their pauses too brief. Hands met very briefly in what looked like greetings before they walked away as if nothing happened.
The man on the corner didn’t stand out—average build, forgettable face. But even from this distance, she saw how he scanned the street.
Get in there. Don’t think.
Smith’s voice echoed in the recesses of her mind. Instantly, she was moving. She stuffed the sandwich back into the bag and stood.
She slipped into the flow of pedestrians headed back to work after their break. As she approached the guy, she flicked her gaze to his face and didn’t look away as she slowed her steps.
He cocked a brow at her.
She paused. “I don’t suppose you have oxy,” she said quietly. “My husband hurt his back at work.”
The man studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Not on me.”
She tightened her lips in a line of disappointment. “Might you later?”
The guy glanced up and down the street. Without looking at her, he asked for her number.
Her stomach gripped, but she recited the new number of the burner phone she’d memorized from the file.
He leaned casually on a signpost as if waiting for the bus. “I’ll be in touch.”
She squared up next to him like she was waiting for public transportation too. “When?”
“When you get out of work.”
Without a word, she turned and tossed the lunch bag in the nearby trashcan before walking back to the office building without a backward glance.
Inside, she took a detour into the restroom and locked herself in a stall to text her partner.
Got something.
Sinner’s response was instant.When?
After work.
Three dots appeared on the screen for a long time, as if he couldn’t choose his words.
She mentally urged him to reply but she didn’t have time to wait. She pocketed the phone and flushed the toilet in pretense before washing her hands and returning to her cubicle. The afternoon passed in a blur of numbers.
When her phone finally buzzed, the message was short. A time and place with no explanation.
Game on. A familiar calm settled over her.
She entered the address into her GPS. The deal wouldn’t take long. A few minutes, maybe less. Her role was to make herself visible without getting busted buying street drugs. The entire point was to be noticed and start the trickle of rumors that a woman who worked for the government was desperate.
