Poison emerged from the subway station into bright noon sunshine. At least as bright as it was going to get in the middle of October. The sky-scrapers blocked any direct view of the sun. Instead, the light reflected and zigzagged between walls and window fronts and scattered to reach street level in a marginally paler version of itself.

Considering it was October, Poison decided to dub this a sunny day, and went on her way. She wanted to try and check a few old sources. Maybe confirm a suspicion that had been nagging her.

Whoever had taken Yoshua might have outsourced their transportation. There were enough people and even companies offering according services. They brought their own equipment and strategies and carried the immediate risk of failure. The client only spent money and took over when their package was delivered.

Hiring outside help added a kind of uncertainty, weighing the reputation of a group for hire against their probable skill. But splitting the process also made it harder to trace the operation back to the customer if anything went awry.

Poison considered what she knew about their target; the way they had handled the traffic cameras, the way Yoshua had disappeared from a crowded bar without any fuss. Whoever was behind this, hiring contractors to avoid the dirty work fit their style.

Information flowed through a few select places in this city. Poison knew a lot of them, had to. For most things, the Stove provided an excellent meeting spot for a certain kind of people. Those who sought to buy or sell information or meet contacts. Arranging hits or trafficking deals was a whole other kind of business, and it usually took place somewhere else.

Poison doubted she would get anywhere by asking around. She would have to go looking for the transportation contractors themselves, and that was best done in another place. Besides, the Stove was closed down. Even if it weren’t, Poison doubted anyone would be stupid enough to frequent the bar of their latest victim. You don’t shit where you eat, and all that.

Come to think of it, the sentiment wasn’t all that unique to traffickers. Thieves behaved much the same way, as did anyone in the business. That was another story, though, and another philosophical debate to annoy Orion with.

Poison knew of a few places, the kind where you could arrange for a hit, if you wanted to. A hint of shame burned up in her to admit it. She knew those spots, and she had frequented them before joining Hounds. She’d never made use of a hit-man, never had the money anyway, but she had had drinks with one or two. A few were asses, but a few were actually nice people, if you didn’t think on it too hard.

This was the first time in a while that Poison sought out one of the shadier meeting spots. No neutrality agreement or anything, so it was all very hush-hush.

The bowling centre was a run-down little place, one of the less strictly-business spots that relied on patron discretion. The front had never seen many customers to start with, and the back of the building had restricted access. The place had been transformed into a meet-up space for burglars, kidnappers, forgers, smugglers, some thieves, and the occasional dealer. A few, infrequent assassins. Anyone working on commission, or looking to put out a job.

The organization types kept to themselves and neither liked outside help nor freely lent their members. Poison ran little risk of coming across Max Rivers’ people here. As long as she didn’t piss anyone off, she would be fine, even without Yoshua to keep the peace.

Forcing down her anxiety, Poison entered the building and asked for the VIP lounge. The woman behind the counter regarded her sceptically. ‘What’s the occasion?’

Poison grinned. ‘One of the mutts come running.’

The woman looked her up and down again, then typed something into her computer. She shrugged and waved Poison through behind the counter and towards a door labelled “employees only”.

One big minus in a place like this was that you had to establish yourself to be allowed in. Each person or affiliated group claimed a pass-phrase. Plus, you couldn’t get in unless someone already in the right circles vouched for you.

The precautions made it harder for bystanders to wander in, and therefore safer for those working in more dangerous climates. It also made it harder for new people to join in, unless they had local connections already.

Poison had been established here for almost ten years, brought in by one of the other street kids she’d met. They had shared a catch-all phrase back then, and once Poison went off on her own and eventually joined Hounds, she had chosen a new one. She had vouched for the guys, in case they ever wanted to come calling here. They hadn’t up till now, and she doubted they would, but it couldn’t hurt.

Hounds mostly relied on Lilly and Orion’s contacts, widespread as they were. The people Poison knew were a loose scattering of thieves and smugglers that only worked with her out of courtesy. She didn’t make much use of them any more, and therefore hadn’t visited this meet-up in what felt like ages. It might do her good now, though.

The whole exclusiveness thing was no particular problem, since Poison wasn’t looking for new players. She was looking for the established, comfy groups, the go-to guys, if you asked around a bit. Competent enough, and cheap enough. New players would be harder to find and easier to get rid of, but they were also less reliable on important jobs. Poison had a feeling that Yoshua’s abductors preferred things to go smoothly and discreetly.

Just the services offered by a certain someone Poison knew to frequent this lounge.

The door behind the counter led to a series of back rooms, with a cocktail bar, old couches, and cheap flooring. The smoke of too many cigarettes and cigars hung heavily in the air. Poison had to hold back a cough as she crossed the first room, the one with the bar.

She was glad that the smoke alone had always discouraged her and she’d never had money for drugs. Her methods for coping with the stress of living on the streets – the occasional treat of blackberries and green tea – had been cheaper and easier to steal.

Poison somehow doubted she’d get either in here.

All kinds of people were lounging on couches or standing in groups, talking. The general attire seemed to be a spectrum from rags all the way to fancy suits, and certain ranges didn’t mingle much with others. Contracts could be arranged by middlemen, no need for the suits to meet the rags in person.

It was the kind of place Poison had always despised, and at the same time always believed she belonged.

The crowd seemed to be at about a third of the rooms’ capacity, quite busy for the time of day. Then again, October wasn’t the best month for meeting in parks and alleys or standing around outside. And there had just been a break-in at one of Max Rivers’ facilities, and some funky business at the Stove not everyone had heard of yet. Maybe the activity wasn’t completely unwarranted.

Some of those who would have gone to the Stove to fish for information were here instead, happily chatting away about the little they knew. This was one of the more civilized institutions, more a private lounge than a dingy back room, less people dealing in girls, more people dealing in secrets. It was less discrete, less hands-on, and therefore more comfortable for a lot of people. Easier to keep up a pretence of morals to yourself.

Poison felt herself slowly slip back into her old, familiar skittishness. She was a slightly bigger player now, compared to when she had first been here. Slightly more important, slightly more influential, vastly more dangerous and resourceful.

And still she felt like back then. She was one of the rags again, trying to avoid bumping into anyone, taking wide berths, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Her teeth clenched on their own accord, her muscles tensed in anticipation. She hadn’t liked her life before Hounds back when she was still living it, and she didn’t like it now. These kinds of people, these kinds of places. Always jumpy, always sizing up.

She realised with a start that she was one of those people who liked things to be very much strictly business. She didn’t want to be here, talking to these people. Was she trying to keep up a pretend moral standard, or was it just her way of getting work done?

Regardless, she was here now, and this was part of that same work, whether she liked it or not. Such was life. With a deep breath, she pushed on, trying to spot who she was looking for, when someone touched her arm.

Poison whirled with a snarl, snatching her arm back.

The girl jumped and quickly put up a hand, palm open. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.’

Fighting to calm her racing heart, Poison nodded, waving the apology away. She was about to turn away when the soft, warm voice registered and she recognized the girl. The girl who had sat down at her table in the café, just yesterday.

‘Um.’

The girl gave her an unsure smile. Her voice was not as quiet as yesterday, raised to be heard over the background hum of the lounge, and it was not quite as soft. Less gentleness, more mischief. ‘I saw you go by, and you looked kind of tense. Didn’t expect you to react like that, though. Do you, uh, have a problem with touching in general, or …?’

‘Um. No. No! You just surprised me, I guess. Sorry. Strange day. Hi. How are you?’

Poison blinked at her own rush of words. What in the hells was she doing?

The girl laughed. ‘Yeah, I see that. Come on.’

She took Poison’s arm and led her back to the first room, towards the bar. Poison followed dumbly. Something very surreal was happening, and she had no idea how to respond.

When they had settled down with two glasses of water, the girl turned back to her. Less insecure now, and even more mischievous. There was a sparkle in her eyes. ‘So, what’s your part in the business?’

Poison took a drink of water to give herself time to think. Business? What business?

Oh. That.

Well, if Café Girl was in here, she was part of that same business. Shouldn’t hurt to tell, then.

‘Thief for hire,’ Poison said, trying to make it sound nonchalant. ‘I work in a group. You?’

The girl shrugged and glanced lazily around the room. ‘I guess you could say I’m an aspiring forger. I haven’t done any contract work yet, but I’ve got the practice. Just need someone to take me on, now. Build a rep.’ She flashed a grin.

‘An artist, then,’ Poison grinned back. ‘Kudos.’

‘You haven’t seen any of my work.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ The tension was slowly, steadily easing out of her, making room for that confident ease she had always envied Orion for.

‘I’m Poison, by the way.’

The girl’s grin widened. She opened her mouth to answer, then paused for a second, as if she had forgotten what to say.

‘I’m Anna.’

She held out a hand and Poison took it.

‘Pleased to meet you, Poison. So, what are you looking for?’

‘Not a forger, sorry,’ Poison laughed. ‘Just checking up on an old contact. You wouldn’t know them, seeing as you just moved here?’

‘Not bad. That obvious, huh? I’ve been in the city for two weeks.’

‘Welcome then!’ Poison grinned and finished her water. ‘Don’t worry, the locals always all know each other. It’s hard to stay around here for long and not get noticed by the community. You’ll get there with time.’

Poison stood, hoping it didn’t seem like the escape attempt it was. If she stayed any longer, she would never stop talking, answering, telling. Best to go now, while she was feeling suave.

‘It was really nice talking to you, but I have to get going. I hope you get that job.’

‘Likewise. I hope you find your contact. Maybe I’ll see you around.’

Poison inclined her head and turned back to her tour of the rooms. Half of her mind focused on the task at hand. The other was … thinking.

> ACCESS CLASSIFIED

Sarah’s groan quickly turned into a yawn. She went with it, stretching her arms, and let her head loll over the chair’s back.

‘No luck?’

She shook her head. Silas sighed and moved off to somewhere else in the room.

They were in Daniel’s temporary office, the one Silas had assigned him when Hounds had stolen that flash drive. It seemed like it had been ages ago.

The room was small and cramped. They had squeezed another desk into it, allowing the three of them to work together in private. If you could call the thing a desk at all. It was a small, cheap thing with folding legs that Silas had dug up somewhere. Something bigger probably wouldn’t have fit anyway. They’d gotten a few curious looks while moving, but nobody had asked any questions. Thankfully.

Silas had also withdrawn his threat that she keep away from Hounds. Good. She didn’t have to worry about him finding out she had talked to “Lilly” Rivers any more.

Sarah looked at her watch and wondered if she’d get to go home before sunrise. It was two in the morning, and they were nowhere near done for the day.

Between the three of them, they were working on the search for Yoshua Stone, clues about something the other two wouldn’t tell her, and what she suspected was an evacuation plan for Daniel. Maybe witness protection, but she suspected it was something more unorthodox. She thought she’d heard the word “Alaska” in their whispers.

Whatever it was, Silas was sure expending a lot of effort on a consultant. She wondered what he was getting out of it.

One thing was obvious, thought; Daniel was getting out of here. What about his family? Did he have any? Would he have to protect them?

Exactly what kind of hold did Hounds have over him? He wouldn’t tell, and the threat hadn’t specified. A threat? Blackmail? Coercion?

Considering her own position, she was mostly all right with not knowing Daniel’s personal issues, as long as they didn’t interfere with her own work. She was curious, and whatever was going on looked like it could affect her. But seeing as how much the confrontation rattled Daniel, she wouldn’t pry further. For now. She would simply help out and see if anything useful shook loose.

To cover all bases, Sarah had offered to see what the Agency had on Yoshua Stone.

Funnily enough, Sarah actually found records of both him and his sister Eliah. Orphaned twins, twenty-four years of age, in regular contact with their foster parents.

The Stove existed in a legal grey zone, and law enforcement was content to leave it at that. Not sanctioning, but not intervening either. The Agency agreed, but insisted on keeping records on the owners. Sensible enough.

If not for their ownership of the Stove, Sarah would have been surprised to find anything at all about the Stone twins. They didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary in the eyes of intelligence work. The Agency’s attention didn’t stray much from that which was imminently useful. It was a miracle there were files at all, seeing as the Stove was a minor establishment; no immediate threat, no immediate use.

So far, Sarah had gotten nowhere with her search, at least nowhere that could help. The Stone’s files referenced tons of others. Relations were popping up all over the place, but they were either redacted or straight out unavailable to her, or completely useless.

She tried another one of the files she had selected for closer inspection.

> ACCESS CLASSIFIED

It seemed she lacked clearance here, too. Why? How was the Agency not only interested in Yoshua Stone, but also protective of what they knew about him? There had to be more. Maybe the Stove ran another side business the police hadn’t found out about? Maybe a smuggling or trafficking ring. Unlikely, but possible.

It shouldn’t be relevant to her work on Runner, or she would have been read in. Though Sarah wasn’t so sure any more about how much the Agency deliberately kept from her.

Sarah thought about pulling favours. After two quick calls, it became clear that none of the people she knew closely enough had the right kind of authorisation. Hells, aside from two or three colleagues very far up the ladder, she didn’t know anyone at that level or clearance, personally or otherwise. And she was not willing to use up those kinds of favours or anger her superiors just to help out a loose colleague from another department.

No way to find out what those redacted files said. She’d tried cross-referencing them, but there were so many of them, and she couldn’t exactly match blanks. It wasn’t like someone judged information to be sensitive and cut it out only to put the general topic into the file header.

The Agency liked to keep things close to the chest, even when faced with their own, but this was something else entirely. Sarah was used to getting exactly what she needed for an operation, no more, no less. For this mission, she had far less than needed.

Whatever was happening in this city right now, her people did not like telling. How did they expect her to do her job with every other document unavailable? She couldn’t even orient herself along the criminal layers. Again, she wondered whether she was even supposed to accomplish anything.

‘I got something,’ Silas interrupted her brooding.

Finally. They gathered around where he’d set up.

‘Two of my sources confirm that a white van stopped on a street corner close to the Stove and drove off five minutes later. Another saw a group of men enter a similar van around that five-minute mark, including a tall blonde guy. It’s a bit of a leap, but it could get us somewhere.’

‘Including the fact that Stone apparently went with them without a hustle. Well, they didn’t have to drag him, at least,’ Daniel mused. He nodded to himself and went back to his desk.

‘License plates?’, Sarah asked.

Silas shook his head. ‘That’s all.’

‘Right, would have been too much to wish for. I’ll see what I can find out.’

‘OK. I’m gonna get us more coffee. Snacks anyone?’

Daniel grunted his assent, not bothering to glance up from his work. Sarah smiled at Silas and nodded. She could use some sugar.

Something about the description of Silas’ sources rang a bell. White van … quiet exit …

She started typing. It was almost familiar, like a déjà-vu, but more substantial. A hunch.

It took her ten minutes and the chocolate bar Silas brought back to find what she needed. And it was far too close to home for her liking. She was starting to think her own people were behind this all, and her chuckle was only half humour.

On a level of “one” to “conspiracy theories about your job”, how long have you been awake?

But the timing matched, and there was activity from her suspect in the right time frame.

Another fifteen minutes and a call got her a location. Yet five more secured a meeting spot at a sufficiently inconspicuous distance.

‘I think I got something,’ she called out.

Silas and Daniel looked up sharply. She grinned and gave them a quick summary. It was plausible enough to check out.

‘Let’s go.’

Silas threw Daniel a quick glance and made a gesture. Daniel nodded and stayed behind at his desk.

Well, whatever that had been, Sarah guessed Daniel wasn’t coming along. Silas gestured her out of the office and closed the door after following her.

Orion shut the door and stood for a moment, shivering at the suddenly, wonderfully warm air. He drew his scarf down, his gloves and hat off and threw them to one side. His jacket followed suit. It was getting seriously cold outside, especially now in the middle of the night. Made his side ache unpleasantly.

‘Honey, I’m home,’ he called out, mocking.

‘In here, darling,’ Poison called back from where she sat on the couch, no three steps away. She looked up briefly to stick her tongue out at him. ‘I think I found a thing.’

‘Ooh.’ Orion kicked off his boots and trotted off to the kitchen to put on some water for tea. ‘You know how I love stuff! Fire away.’

‘I talked to some old friends and managed to trace the whole kidnapping crap back to Sam. You know, that guy, with the ...’ She waved her hand.

‘Oh, the guy with the thing? Who does the stuff?’

She scoffed. ‘The guy with the transport company. So, the smuggler-slash-trafficker.’

Orion poured two mugs for them. ‘Hey, alleged smuggler-slash-trafficker. Officially, nobody caught him doing any illegal business – yet.’

‘So by that logic, I only allegedly have to pee? ‘Cause, you know, no reliable witness has ever seen me actually do it.’

Orion laughed at that, dropping bags of tea into the hot water. ‘I get your point. Just saying. Sam might be a bit of a prick about cooperating with us.’

Poison shrugged. ‘I’m not planning on talking to him. I already looked at the drop-off point.’

‘How’d you get that info?’

She smiled smugly. ‘Somebody owed me a favour or two.’

Orion carried the mugs over and sat on the couch, cross-legged, facing Poison. ‘Let’s wait for your findings report till Lilly’s here. He got nowhere with his leads, so he’s on his way back here.’

The front door opened to let in another rush of cold air.

‘Or we could just go ahead right now,’ Orion grinned.

Lilly threw off his coat, teeth chattering loudly. ‘Fuck it’s cold out!’

He rummaged around the kitchen for something hot to drink.

Orion sipped his tea, hiding a smile. He had been slinking around the police station for the last few hours, hooking into the communications feed of every walkie-talkie and anything else he could pick up on. It had taken him a while to sort out the right frequencies, and then the right conversations, but in the end, a call for a team had gone out. He had a location.

But first, let Poison have her moment of smugness. The last few weeks, and the last few days in particular, had been hard on them all. And with Poison so obviously relaxed yesterday, he had been harsher than perhaps necessary. Sure, it had served to make a point and get her on track. But if he held on to his good excuses, he couldn’t really find a better dynamic, could he? And he did not want to lead by aggression and intimidation.

So desperate to separate myself from Jordan, eh?

He shoved the thought aside.

Lilly sat in his armchair, hands wrapped around a cup. He took a sip and sighed in content.

‘What’s that?’ Poison leaned forward to catch a whiff.

‘Hot milk, cinnamon, freshly ground pepper.’

‘Ew.’

‘Delicious.’

Orion chuckled. ‘What did you find, Lilly? Besides a debatably tasty drink.’

Another sip, another quiet sigh. ‘Not much. I talked to some of my contacts from way back, and nothing. I talked to Eliah-’

Poison found this to be an appropriate moment to wolf-whistle.

‘- and the only thing she could think of was that one of the regulars at the Stove could have been watching them. But she’s not out front that often, and there’s always quite a crowd. She really couldn’t say if anyone behaved strangely. So still, we’re not even close to finding out who took Yoshua, or where.’

Poison grinned widely. ‘I think I am, on both counts.’

Oh? She had as much or nearly as much as Orion did? This should be interesting. If independent methods led to the same result, that was a pretty strong indicator that they were on the right track.

‘I talked to some people. Seems Yoshua was taken by one of Sam’s transport crews.’

Lilly’s eyes lit up. ‘Eliah said someone talked to Yoshua and he just left with them. He gave her a signal, though, so she knew it was serious and he wouldn’t be coming right back. Maybe they leveraged her against him. Sam likes to work on threats and intimidation.’

Poison shrugged. ‘Sam’s crew did cart someone over to the river in the right time-frame. Loaded him off at a bridge. He was picked up by a team on foot. I checked some property around there and found a fitting building.’

She waved a piece of paper in front of them. Orion plucked it out of her hand.

The address was only a block or so away from the meeting spot he had snatched from the cops. And he had heard Sam’s name mentioned, too.

‘I didn’t have a chance to look inside on my own yet,’ Poison continued, ‘but I’m fairly sure.’

‘I agree,’ Orion nodded. ‘Good work.’

Poison regarded him suspiciously. ‘Um … thanks for the vote of confidence? Where’s that coming from, though? I thought you’d want to double-check.’

‘Eh, already did. Remember, I went down to the station. The cops are gathering near that address half an hour from now.’ Orion grinned.

Poison scowled. ‘So much for making an amazing discovery.’

‘At least you got to confirm and compare notes.’ Lilly made a sour face and sipped more of his spiced milk. ‘Wow. I feel useless.’

‘You’re going to be useful enough on this one,’ Orion reassured him. ‘If we’re lucky, we might even find a connection to Michael. Maybe it’ll help us down the road. You consolidated the theory that Sam’s methods were involved. Plus, Eliah needed someone to keep her sane. You did a nice job of that, I’m sure.’

After that much obnoxiously direct praise, Orion couldn’t resist the jab, though he put only a slight hint of cynicism and more good-natured humour into his tone. He had decided to be nice, after all. Lilly, too, had gotten a dressing-down yesterday. Time to appease.

‘OK,’ Lilly answered, lightening up a bit. He didn’t seem too touched by Orion’s last comment. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s gear up and get going.’