Leading Edge
Archie raised his eyebrows—this was Timothy’s contact, his call. “Fellas?” the woman asked, hands back on her hips. Archie calculated how quickly he could go for the Beretta tucked into his waistband, how to get behind his car for cover. Timothy opened the trunk and hefted out the gym bag. “Grab the suitcase?” “Sure,” the woman replied, transferring the case to the trunk. The exchange complete, she drove off. “Something’s wrong, man,” Timothy said. “I need to call Pious.”
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Archie waited in the driver’s seat, watching the road. In the rearview mirror, Timothy
stood in the shadows behind the convenience store, phone to his ear. Across the street, signs reading “Future Site of Leopold Towers by PureBuild” and “35-Story Luxury Condos—All Solar Power—Deanne Approved!” covered the front doors and vestibules of buildings—buildings that had once been celebrated examples of the city’s architecture before Daniel changed the face of urban planning and design. Movement caught Archie’s eye. Behind him, Timothy dropped his phone and stomped on it, then got in the car. He rolled up his window and waited for Archie to do the same. “Pious wants us at the safe house.” Archie started the car. “That’s not the plan.” “Plan’s changed. Pious said people are getting taken down. Wants to bring you in.” “Into what?” Archie pulled onto the street. “What do you think, man?” Archie went cold. “Why didn’t Pious tell me this?” “Can only use those phones for so long. But you can call him. Even give you the number.” Archie replayed the last few moments—the words, tone of voice, body language. Nothing made him suspect a trap. But that was the problem. Pious and Timothy really wanted him to join their insurgency against Daniel Deanne. Just two more things and he was done. “Did you mention the drop?” “Yeah. Guy who was supposed to be there disappeared. Gone. Pious described the chick he sent. Same one we met. Had little time to memorize the signals.” “Did he mention when I’m getting paid?” So far, Archie had only received a third of what he’d been promised. “Not my job. But go to the house. Talk to Pious.” “Tell Pious I expect to hear from him soon. Where can I drop you?” Timothy’s shoulders drooped. “Anywhere, man.” Two blocks later, Archie pulled over. A large crowd of tattooed young people stood in front of a building with extinguished neon lights announcing it as a dance club. Timothy could easily disappear. Just one more muscle boy. Archie extended his hand. “Good luck, Timothy.” Timothy shook. “God bless you, Saul.”
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