Chapter 11 Nex
“You’re in all of their ears, yes?” Royce said without preamble, upon entering the conference room.
“Of course,” I told him, projecting video of each agent onto its own screen, along with a map pinpointing each of their respective locations.
I was even in the ear of the agent who didn’t want to hear from me anymore.
“And our alibi is solid?” he asked.
I was tempted not to dignify that with a response. “Of course.”
Royce’s mouth twitched like a man choosing which worry to feed. “Legal?”
“Pre-briefed. They’ve asked that if we open anything, it’s in good-faith exigency with the shipper present.”
“And cameras?”
“Borrowed, not edited. If we win, it should be reviewable.”
He grunted. “Anything else I should know before my heart rate gets interesting?”
I knew that Lung had missed his usual feeding window by forty-seven minutes and had compensated with two thermoses of indeterminate biologicals.
I knew that Ellum’s daughter had a piano recital at seven and that his calendar reminder kept nudging the corner of his vision.
I knew that Aceon had painted his hooves with a sound-damping gel the night before; the lingering volatiles had left a faint chemical hush in his wake.
And I knew that Royce’s pulse had climbed nine beats per minute the moment he said “Legal,” and hadn’t dropped since.
But none of that rose to the level of sharing with him.
“Nothing currently,” I said. All we could do now was bide our time.
I pinned the clock on the wall beneath the map: 11:42.