Cleaned. Cleaner than it needs to be, which is what draws my attention. There’s no impulsive transfer, sloppy direct deposit, or obvious benefactor careless enough to leave their name attached to the movement.
“This confirms structure,” I note.
Mikel inclines his head slightly. He studies the payment chain with the same expression he wears before violence. Focused and unmoved.
“They expected us to stop at him,” Mikel observes.
“Yes.”
We don’t.
Polina leans back in her chair, finally, rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “He believes he’s meeting for a secondary payout at 6:45 P.M.,” she informs us. “Location confirmed. He’s alone.”
“Does he suspect anything?” I ask.
“No.” A faint, humorless smile touches her mouth. “He checked his phone twice for confirmation and deleted the thread.”
That tells me he believes he covered his tracks. He didn’t account for us.
I straighten slowly, adjusting the line of my jacket. The scar along my ribs tingles when I twist too quickly. The sensationreminds me of the alley. Of the blood. And of Rowan’s hands pressing her scarf into my torn flesh while her voice refused to let me leave. I let the memory run its course and then push it aside.
“Prepare the yard,” I instruct.
Mikel nods once. Karp and Leo are already in motion.
The sky is dark when we arrive at the industrial strip. A thin fog hangs low over the asphalt, clinging to the ground in shallow swirls that drift apart when headlights cut through them. The air smells like diesel and damp metal, lingering on clothing long after you leave.
The yard itself is framed by a chain-link fence topped with coiled wire. Cargo containers sit stacked in uneven towers, their surfaces streaked with rust and old paint. Sodium lights spill a yellow glow across the yard, leaving long shadows stretching between the stacks.
We cleared the area fifteen minutes earlier under the guise of a hazardous materials inspection. Two unmarked trucks blocked access roads. Anyone curious enough to approach was redirected.
Daniel arrives in a gray pickup truck that rattles faintly when it idles. The engine ticks after he turns it off. He steps out, scanning the perimeter with casual suspicion rather than fear. He’s wearing a dark jacket and jeans, practical andunremarkable enough to blend into any parking lot or loading dock without drawing a second glance.
His right hand hovers near his waistband as he walks toward the designated container. He pauses once to light a cigarette. The lighter's flame briefly illuminates his face. There’s no anxiety there. Only impatience.
He checks his watch, then his phone, and exhales a slow stream of smoke into the cold air. He believes this is just another routine transaction.
Karp moves first. He slowly emerges from between two containers. His massive shoulders are framed by the muted glow of the yard lights. His boots strike the asphalt with a heavy, grounded rhythm. His shaved head gleams faintly under the sodium lamps. His hands hang loose at his sides, relaxed.
Daniel notices him immediately. His posture changes subtly. The cigarette slips from his mouth, his spine straightens, and his right hand moves half an inch closer to the weapon at his waistband.
“What’s this?” Daniel calls out, attempting a confident tone.
Karp doesn’t respond. He closes the distance at the same calm pace.
Daniel adjusts his weight, angling his body to create space. He attempts to step backward toward the truck.
Leo appears at the driver’s side before Daniel notices. The door opens, and Leo’s hand grips Daniel’s forearm, pulling him off balance in one smooth motion. Daniel reacts with trainedinstinct, pivoting his shoulder and attempting to drive his elbow backward into Leo’s ribs.
Karp intercepts. His hand closes around Daniel’s wrist mid-strike. The force stops completely. For a fraction of a second, Daniel attempts to overpower him. His muscles flex, and teeth clench. The yard remains silent except for the faint hum of distant highway traffic.
Then Karp twists, and bone gives under the pressure with a clean, unmistakable crack that runs up Daniel’s arm and straight through his nervous system. He drops to one knee with a guttural sound torn from his throat.
He reaches again with his left hand. Mikel steps in from the blind side, sweeping Daniel’s legs out from under him. The asphalt meets his cheek with a dull impact.
Daniel fights. He rolls his shoulder and attempts to reach his weapon again. Karp’s knee drives into his lower back with brutal force. The air leaves Daniel’s lungs in a violent exhale. Leo secures his arms behind him, locking reinforced restraints around his wrists.
Daniel spits blood onto the asphalt. He isn’t afraid yet. He’s angry. Anger is useful. It keeps him upright long enough to extract information.
