the smuggler’s bible

Lowen

Pale’s operation, tight as it is, shares the vulnerability inherent in every “bricks and bodyguards” setup. You can’t take it with you.

Malkin slides a piece of paper across the desk. “That’s where we get him,” he says, jabbing with a finger under the lamp. “It’s dirty, but it’s the only way.”

Lowen leans forward into the light and pulls the paper closer. There’s a map sketched across the top and underneath several columns of small, neat figures.

“Every Sunday?” he asks, looking up.

“Hardly. He’s too smart for that.” Malkin shrugs. “But this Sunday, yes. This Sunday for sure.”