“Yeah,” he concedes. “It’s bad.”
Hannah stares at him, shaking her head in disgust. “I can’t believe I almost went out with you.” She shudders.
“Marco,” the voice calls again.
“Polo,” the men answer in unison. They laugh, maniacal. There’s the sound of chairs being pushed aside. Of tables being turned over. They’re searching for Marco. Not in a random, chaotic way. No, this is organized, systematic. It’s only a matter of time before they get to us, in the very back of the room.
My fingers fly, but my mind is already leaps and bounds ahead.
Marco watches my hands move. “What’re you doing?” He leans in, trying to see my screen.
I tilt it away instinctively.
“This is not the time to check Instagram,” he mutters.
Hannah leans in too, but I don’t hide it from her.
“What is that?” she whispers. “I’ve never seen that app before.”
“I’m working.”
She blinks. “You’reworking? During a Mafia shootout?”
Something crashes nearby. All three of us flinch.
“It’s a program I built,” I say quietly. “I can access public utilities. At least…I think I can.”
“Youthink?” she whispers.
“I’m a programmer,” I say. Then, more quietly, “And a hacker.”
She stares at me.
“Banks hire me to protect their systems,” I add quickly. “But I do other things too. Fix problems.”
“You mean like—”
“Mrs. Sewart downstairs,” I say.
Hannah blinks. “The one who smells like mothballs?”
“She keeps forgetting to pay her bills,” I mutter. “I was trying to permanently turn her heat and electricity on.”
“Trying?” Hannah echoes.
“I hadn’t cracked it yet,” I admit. “Every test failed.”
A table tips over nearby.
Marco squeaks. “Buddy, if you’ve got a plan—”
“Marco!” the men shout. “Polo!”
They’re close now.
“But earlier,” I say, fingers flying, “in the car with you, I realized the problem. Manhattan isn’t one system. It’s millions. I need a wider net.”
“Damian—” Hannah warns.
