35
Moments later, Special Agent Tan drives away.
I wait until his car vanishes around the corner back onto Davidson, then stomp back to where Deke and Will wait. The switchyard’s greasy gravel and oil-steamy heat might as well be on a movie screen. The only thing that feels real is the flash drive clenched in my right fist.
Will is in the back seat. I can imagine the pissing contest over that.
The SUV’s air conditioning hits me like a wall of ice, shattering my daze. Suddenly I realize how sweat has soaked through my cheap funeral clothes. My feet are dumplings steamed in shoddy leather, the small of my back a swamp as I sag into the seat. The stink of oil and grease still clog my sinuses and lungs. I didn’t touch anything, but I’m going to need a long hot shower to clear them, then a
