Page 49 of The Orc of Wall Street

He reaches down at his side, and I’m afraid he’s about to reach for a weapon.

My heart jumps. I could rush back into the laborers. Surely, he wouldn’t unload a firearm in the middle of a crowd of laborers.

He raises his other hand openly as though trying to convince me he doesn’t mean harm, but I only relax when I see the white glow of a pristine envelope.

Extending his hand slowly, he dangles the envelope over the threshold.

I stare at it for a full minute before quickly taking it.

“There you go,” Salvatore says. “Maybe some other time, we’ll have words. But for now, have a good day, Siphon.”

I stare slack-jawed as he walks away, holding the envelope with trembling hands. I’m afraid to open it. What if there’s poison inside? What if there’s some incendiary device inside this envelope?

That only happens in movies.

Turning the envelope over in my hand, I realize, with a start, that the envelope is addressed to me. Not Sloane, thankfully, but to the Cyber Thief.

I rip delicately at the corner. When nothing happens, I rip a little more. Eventually, the envelope is fully open and I sigh in relief. The envelope is fairly light. There’s not even a full sheet of paper inside of here.

I can feel the laborer’s eyes on me, but I don’t care that my cover is blown. I turn the envelope upside down, and a thin note card and photo fall out. Picking the note card up, I stare at it.

Two words. The note card has two words scrawled on it.

Nice try.

Breathing deeply and closing my eyes, I reach down for the photo, flipping it over. Bits of dirt and oil residue coat the photo. There in the photo is another shipyard, this one much larger and much more unattended. I run.

Clicking my keys, I unlock my door, and then throw myself inside. I drive. I’m moving twenty miles above the speed limit in residential areas, nearly crashing into other vehicles as I squeeze through red lights.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

I scream. In ten minutes, I’ve traveled nine miles at rush hour. I can hear my phone going off in my pocket, but I don’t dare check it. I park at the most immediately available spot, entirely too far from the open receiving dock. This time, my phone rings. I exhale deeply before seeing Tarek’s name.

I just need to slow down. “Hello?”

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Tarek’s furious voice greets me. “What the hell is going on?”

I step outside the car and begin to walk, the dock far in the distance.

“The shipment was late, Tarek,” I say. “But it was all there.”

Tarek hesitates. “That’s good, right?”

“No, Tarek. It isn’t. Because while I was watching them unload the truck, I was stopped by Salvatore.”

I can feel the anger in his voice building. “You mean you got yourself found?”

“Clearly, he was looking for me, Tarek. He had a letter addressed to the Cyber Thief…” I realize I’m approaching the point where workers might be able to hear me, so I lower my voice. “And they had a photo of this place.”

“That’s… ominous.”

“Yes, it’s ominous,” I hiss. “And so was the little attached note that said ‘nice try.’”

The whir of everyday operations is within earshot. I need to go inside and check the damage.

“Sloane, where are you?”

“I’m at the other receiving dock.”

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