the smuggler’s bible


Sous-vide taps a few numbers on the keypad. Red lights blink back at him.

“Goddamnit, I thought you were good at this kind of thing.”

“Don’t rush me.” Sous-vide waves a hand over his gear. “It’s deductive, not predictive. The process evolves.”

Cotillion, the elite assassin, stands with his back to the door, watching the hallway. The complex is bigger than he thought. By his reckoning, they’re somewhere inside the mountain—certainly they’re off the map, in uncharted territory.

“What are we after, anyway? What’s our priority?”

“Right this moment it’s operational security,” Cotillion says. “So shut the hell up.”