Abelardo stopped in the hallway. "Good morning," Chia turned, dropping the lanyard onto the table. Her expression was unreadable. You work in logistics sector 4. Abelardo frowned.
Most people didn't know how Kinsley Bates was divided. Yeah, data rooting. How did you know that? I know the color coding on the badges, she said smoothly. Orange stripe is sector 4.
You process the Midwest shipping routes. Right, Abalardo said, walking toward the coffee maker. He grabbed the canister of cheap grounds. You want coffee? It's bad, but it's hot.
No, Chia said. She looked around the apartment, her eyes lingering on the water damage on the ceiling, the frayed rug, and then back to the stack of past due bills on the counter. How long have you worked there, Abalardo? He paused, a scoop of coffee hovering over the filter. He was getting slightly irritated.
5 years. Look, I'm glad you got some sleep, but I have a lot to do today. Chia didn't move toward the door. She moved toward her coat still draped over the radiator. It was dry now, though hopelessly stained.
She slipped her arms into it, letting it hang open over the sweatpants. 5 years, she repeated. Have they increased your hazard pay for the warehouse proximity? Abalardo turned to look at her. Really look at her.
No, they cut that 2 years ago. Who are you? Before she could answer, a sound shattered the quiet morning. Footsteps, heavy, fast, echoing in the narrow hallway outside, not the shuffling step of his elderly neighbor. These were dress shoes, hard leather on cheap tile, several pairs.
Abalardo tensed. His first instinct was the landlord. He was 3 weeks behind on rent. His second instinct was trouble. The kind of trouble a stranger brings into your home.
Then came the knock. It wasn't a polite tap. It was three sharp concussive blows that made the door rattle in its frame. Avalardo web. A voice barked from the hallway.
It was loud, authoritative, and distinctly familiar. Abalardo's blood ran cold. He knew that voice. He had heard it over crackling intercoms and from the back of vast warehouse floors. It was David Vance.