9
He was slow in answering. I found that odd, given his apparent state of financial disrepair. If feet could grumble, Brackin’s would have as they approached the door. The latch moved aside. He barely opened up wide enough to let the alley’s aroma in.
“Yes? Oh….” Brackin saw the robe and lost the stubbed-toe annoyance from his voice. I guess we all put on a holy face when we deal with someone we think has God’s ear. “What can I do for you—”
“You can let me in from this assassin’s dream of an alleyway for starters.” I raised my head inside the hood, and his flickering candle found my face.
“Fischer? Stacks Fischer?”
“Hang on a sec. Let me dial in to Darknet and you can let everyone know.”
He tried to close the door, and in went my toe. He pushed. I wedged.
“Get out of here, Fischer,”
