the smuggler’s bible


There’s coffee on the table, getting cold. He tries to keep his hands flat in his lap, but they keep balling up into fists.

“I’m not going to lie to you, but you know what they say. If you get too curious, maybe it’s you that has to pick up the pieces when they tumble.”

“You went down the coast,” he says, not asking.

Murmurs in the dark. Heads nodding. “A special trip.”

“Who asked you to go?”

Malkin sighs, but Lowen can see his eyes sparkling by the window. “We thought you knew already. It was Roger, of course.”