The inspector’s sedan disappears behind stacked cargo shells in an unregistered freight clinic below the exchange. Its stolen evidence credential fades from the tunnel grid as alarms recede overhead.
An automated surgical rig unfolds over the wounded courier, sealing her reopened dressing and feeding stabilizers through a narrow injector. The disavowed operative remains by the entrance, weapon ready.
the wounded courier
Vey can still take the shard. The exchange is compromised, not necessarily the broker. We deliver, then disappear before anyone follows the signal.
the disavowed operative
You heard the warning. The Lattice route was bait, and Vey is the only person who could have known we were coming.
The disavowed operative lifts the blackglass shard toward the clinic’s dead inspection lamp. Routing glyphs crawl across its surface, briefly forming a second encrypted path.
the wounded courier
That path was not there before. Someone is rewriting the shard while it is active. If Vey is dirty, we need another handoff now.
the disavowed operative
And if we leave, every protected account named inside it stays exposed. Your fixer got us this far. Ask her whether she knows a safer door.
Secure the fugitives' cooperation