Page 64 of Zalis
Gemma leaned heavily on the cane, trying to look relaxed and not suspicious, but again, she wasn’t an actress. Frankly, it was rude how often her faults made themselves known.
Zalis focused on his comm unit, entered commands, and frowned. “It is a robust security system.”
“Maybe this is for the best,” she said. “We could wait and come back better prepared. Get a warrant. Not, you know, be criminals.”
“Technically, we are engaging in vigilante behavior,” he replied, not lifting his eyes as he spoke. “There. Security is offline. Video footage has been deleted for the last ten minutes.”
Gemma couldn’t help it. She looked up at the neighboring building, searching for signs of cameras. “What about next door? It won’t take much to get our image.”
“For the entire street.”
“What about the car? You paid for it with your chip,” she said, referring to the identity chip commonly buried in a person’s thumb. She had one. Everyone had one.
“Disposable chip. It is necessary with my work to have untraceable funds.”
“Well, good job then,” she said. Her man was an overachiever and always prepared like a star-faring scout.
Zalis moved to the door. It opened quietly. He drew a small knife from his boot—seriously, was that thing made of folded space? How many gadgets did he have hidden on him?
“You do not have to come inside. I will handle this on my own,” he said.
Sweet of him to give her an out.
“No. You’re committing assault for me. I should watch.”
“It will not be pleasant.”
“Ineedto watch,” she clarified.
He regarded her with a solemn expression, as if reevaluating his opinion of her. “Very well. Stay back. Do not get involved.”
Once she agreed, he pressed a finger to his lips, the universal sign to be quiet, and entered.
GEMMA
Despite the sunlight filtering in through the metal shutters, Gemma needed a moment to adjust to the gloom.
The space was depressing. An abandoned shop: dust coated the glass counters that ran along both walls. A jewelry store, maybe? Sun-faded velvet lined the cases.
Crime didn’t pay, apparently.
Zalis headed to the light at the back of the store.
No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a gun was pressed to the side of his head.
“Drop the knife,” Niklas ordered.
Zalis complied, holding up his empty hands. Gemma crouched down behind a display case, for all the good it would do her. The cane clattered to the floor.
“You’re not as stealthy as you think,” Niklas said, turning toward Gemma’s noise.
Good job, Gemmy-bean.
“Tell me, when did you notice me?” Zalis asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“You think I wouldn’t notice you hacking into my security system? Big mistake.”
“Ah, then you did not notice me at all.”
