74
Yes, I can’t stand wealthy people.
But right now, I especially hate people rich enough to afford a penthouse in the tallest skyscraper in Europe. We have plan to get around them, but it’s a lot riskier.
I grow heavy, and the elevator cab swooshes up into the hot stinking darkness.
“How many stops?” Deke says. My night vision goggles show him already grabbing at his utility belt.
“Six,” Sister Silence says.
My hands are fumbling at my own utility belt, automatically unclipping a traction pad. Traction pads are electronic suction cups, used by all sorts of specialized government agents who need to get into places they shouldn’t be through routes most people can’t manage. I’ve practiced putting them on and off so many times that I really can cinch them in place by touch.
I get my kn
