Page 62 of The Study of Poisons
“No. You’re not trained.”
Trevar opened his mouth. “But I’m the one who—”
“No. Any questions?” Valek asked the rest of them. Aside from Ari, Janco, and Maren, the other three were members of his corps and all professionals. No one responded, so he continued, “All right, go brief your squads.”
They filed out.
“What about me?” Trevar asked Valek.
“Follow me.”
They went outside. Valek approached Kenda, who had been organizing the soldiers and the members of the watch patrol who would be assisting.
“Seven teams?” she asked.
“Yes, our intel on the number of dealers was correct.”
“I’ll update the stand-bys.” She eyed Trevar. “Are you ready to start your training?”
“I…think so,” he said.
“It’s either yes or no, boy.” She snapped.
Trevar straightened. “Yes.”
“Good. Just one bag?”
“Everything I own.”
“Good. In our business, we travel light. We don’t get attached to stuff.” She shot Valek a look. She didn’t approve of the clutter in his office and took every opportunity to let him know. “If you’re on an undercover mission and have to leave everything behind, then it’s not a big deal.”
Before she could go on, Valek cut in. “You’ll learn many more survival skills, Trevar. Go with Kenda. She’ll oversee your training.” He clasped the young man on the shoulder. “Thank you for your help.”
Trevar nodded and Valek joined his squad. They had half an hour to get into position. The deep black of the sky had lightened a hue. Valek briefed them on their mission and assigned tasks before they headed out the west gate.
* * *
Valek’s squadwaited in the shadows around Bunton’s warehouse. According to Trevar, the black market dealer and his staff lived on the second floor. Normally, Valek would case the building, mark all the exits, and find out exactly how many people he’d encounter inside. He’d go in silently with his corps and the neighbors wouldn’t see or hear a thing.
But a smash and grab was a noisy, public affair.
At dawn, they busted in the front doors, startling the two guards in the main bay where Bunton’s legitimate business operated. Rolls of fabric filled oversized shelves, and clothing in various stages of completion hung from hangers. Sewing tables with spools of colorful thread lined the open space.
“Drop your weapons!” his team yelled at the guards.
“Hands up!”
“Down on the ground!”
Valek sprinted up the steps with four soldiers behind him. At the top, a man still in his pajamas brandished a short sword. Valek ducked under the blade and tackled the guy. As they hit the floor, Valek yanked the weapon from his hands. Then he rolled to his feet and kept on going, leaving the now unarmed man for his team to secure.
He raced through the various rooms. The key to a successful attack were surprise, speed, and intensity. Disoriented after being rudely woken, most of the people he encountered offered no resistance. However, the element of surprise had faded by the time he reached a large opulent office. A man in a merchant uniform stood on the far side. His right hand grasped the knob of another door—probably an exit. Four guards armed with long daggers made a wall between Valek and the man.
“Are you Bunton?” Valek asked the man.
“And if I am?” the man asked.
“Then you’re under arrest,” Valek said.
