the smuggler’s bible

Cotillion

“Are we going in order, do you think?”

“That or it’s some kind of coincidence. I figure it’s just a quirk. Extreme wealth manifesting as eccentricity.”

“But what if we skipped the beginning? What if we got lucky before and hit 17 instead of 230?”

“More reason to get moving.”

Sous-vide’s face is bathed in blue light from his console. Security barriers flicker and disappear down the long expanse of carpeted hallway. “You have to admit, this place is weird.”

“I admit nothing,” Cotillion, the elite assassin, says, standing. He stretches and sighs. “That’s a crucial part of my method.”